Chapter Text
If you asked someone about the Blood God, perhaps the average player, they would tell you magnificent and horrifying stories of his various escapades. However they would also say he is arrogant, with a massive god complex. (Not that he wouldn’t be able to get away with it.)
Technoblade understands why so many people think that, yet can never fully decide whether or not he’s happy that his well crafted mask had worked so well. The truth is Technoblade's arrogance is a facade that he has attached to himself long ago.
People that actually know him closely would know that he’s actually not arrogant at all. Even when facing opponents that are obviously weaker than him, except when it’s his close friends, his mind is focused and calculating with preparations made in advance. Even though he might have no reason to.
Truthfully, Technoblade had long surpassed godship, not that it had been easy.
His past had been anything but kind, growing up in a time and place where hybrid hunting and poverty were still at large.
At the age of two he found himself stranded in the nether by his biological parents due to him being born an albino.
He was found by hoglins half an hour later, full of sweat and breathing heavily due to the intense heat.
Despite his appearance, his birth parent's misconceptions, and his history in the nether, Technoblade's parents have given birth to a fully human child.
(Not that it mattered when they dragged him away.)
The truth is, when the hoglins found him he had been very lucky. Three baby hoglins had taken a huge liking to him before their parents could make any rash decisions. And then when the parents saw their children all over this tiny strange human, well..
Before he knew it he was being raised by hoglins.
(Despite what many may think, hoglins are actually very intelligent creatures as are most mobs in the nether.)
Of course that also meant he needed a cure for the heat, which gave way to the destruction of multiple small piglin villages until they finally found something to help the child.
AKA fire resistant potions.
(Many more raids were conducted within the next four years.)
When Technoblade was six, having mostly adjusted to the heat due to the constant fire resistant potions he took constantly, he started going to piglin villages by himself.
After the first time he attempted to interact with piglins when he was almost four, (which had ended in disaster), he learned to modify his body using a combination of tools and potions found in the nether along with surface magma.
Technoblade was a very smart and determined child.
For his teeth, he used magma as a base on each of the chosen teeth and sharpened sticks he found to make the shape he desired.
(Both for which he needed to use an extra two fire resistance potions.)
For his ears he managed to stretch them out enough over the years by using some hoglin fur he used to make thread, and attached one end to the top end of both his ears, and the other buried in his hair.
His eyes were already a crimson red, due to his albinism.
He used black stone powder to stain his feet which were already deformed due to a birth defect, and the ash from the nether along with some discolored crimson fungus for his skin and his white hair.
(It ended up being permanent too! Although it showed more prominently in his hair, rather than on his skin.)
Things went well for another year before he happened to get caught by hybrid hunters.
It didn’t help that by then, he knew a ton about both hoglin and piglin culture, along their languages, history, and fighting styles.
It didn’t help that his two sharpened teeth were a dark black compared the the rest,
It didn’t matter how easily his skin broke,
And it never mattered how much he thrashed, struggling, trying to call for help.
It was a long eight years before he finally escaped, with a total of 1,456 forced wins under his belt and a total of 919 unwilling kills, newfound voices and dreams in tow.
After a few months in the pit, Techno learned to act cocky to his opponents. If he didn’t then the crowd wouldn’t like him. If he didn’t then the person he was fighting would underestimate him.
And they would end up with more injuries.
If he didn’t build up the mask everyone would see how mad he was at everyone, at everything, and how much he wanted to stomp everything out.
It was a few years later when Technoblade had and a total of 537 victories and the mask almost came crashing down. They started wanting more. More death.
More blood. More death.
He slaughtered both humans and hybrids.
Criminals, and innocents.
Willing and unwilling.
He tried not to think back to those times at first,
Forced to tear the other ‘contestants’ apart,
the crowds yelling in his ears,
The loud screams of his victims,
The look on the other children’s (because thats what they were, children) faces when they saw him in that dark room-
Soon after he started killing, he made sure that every time he killed someone not to step near the blood of their corpse.
Everyone else probably thought he didn’t want the excess blood on him, when truthfully he refused to defile the limb, cold body anymore.
More time passed, and still in stuck the pit, Technoblade has long passed the point of ever living normally.
He was at his 104th kill when he started having auditory hallucinations. Of the crowd, of his opponents, of his handler manager (if you could even call him that.)
He was somewhere around kill 550 when he started to get seriously suicidal. He began to dream, not of freedom, (not anymore) but of blood and vengeance In order to keep going.
A coping mechanism of sorts.
He dreamt of a powerful creature, impossible to kill, one that would strike down those who did them injustice, that would take down the fighting ring he found himself in.
He dreamt of blood.
He dreamt of some sort of god, a cruel but indifferent being.
After all, how could blood be anything but cruel.
For the next three years, at the age of twelve, Technoblade dreamt of this impossible creature, until he was finally free, covered in the blood of those who tried to stop him.
It was then, in the clean air with no chains wrapped around his neck, when he finally learned all about his own race, AKA players.