Trouvaille | Technoblade x Reader

Chapter 2 - The Escape

You were sprinting through the marketplace, shoving bodies out of your way as you ran, before you came back to yourself. You suddenly became aware of your labored breathing and the way that your legs trembled as you ran. They could give way at any second, so you ignored the stares and pushed forward while you still had control of your body.

Any other morning, you would have been relieved to be outside in the cool morning air instead of inside Lady Nihachu's residence, but now all you could think about were those two words: Butcher Army.

They had come for your mother, and they had come for many more before you. The Butcher Army was ruthless, doing whatever they had to do to eliminate their target. They didn't care if they had to slice through an entirely family to get to one person.

You still saw what they had done to your family whenever you closed your eyes for the night, and now they were coming for you personally. Not many people could say that they had met the Butcher Army twice, and you laughed hysterically at the thought as the wind whipped against your face. You truly were the unluckiest person to ever live.

The stone beneath your feet soon gave way to the dirt roads that led to the outskirts of town. You caught a glimpse of your quaint house - the same one that you had grown up in, although it had been rebuilt after the fire - as tears sprung into your eyes.

You flung open your door and immediately slammed it closed once you were safely inside. Your trembling hands fumbled with the latch before you sank to the ground. Sobs wracked your body as you curled your knees up to your chest.

Still trembling with tears rolling down your cheeks, you scrambled to your feet and practically threw yourself under your bed for the to-go bag you always had half-packed. You began rifling through your drawers and began scattering clothes everywhere in your haste.

Your resolve strengthened as your fingers curled around the iron sword hidden underneath your sweaters. For a moment you could breathe, and with that clarity you ran to your garden, sword in hand and bag dangling in the other.

As quickly as you could, you plucked leaves and buds from your assorted plants and scurried back into your home. You practically threw your few clay bowls from your kitchen cabinets and grabbed the brewing stand tucked carefully in the back.

Once your potions were brewing, you began rifling through your pantry for anything that would work for a quick meal on the run. After shoving some dried venison, some fresh vegetables, and a handful of nuts into your bag, you began searching for anything that would make a good flask for drinking water.

The next few hours passed in a blur of leaves, buds, water, and potions. You spent your time ripping up shirts for makeshift gauze, carefully concocting potions, and gathering as much into one bag as you possibly could. By the time your final potion was bottled up and slipped into your pocket, the sun was already at the highest point in the sky. At most, the Butcher Army would come for you in a few hours. Worst case scenario, the Butcher Army was already on its way.

Your hope was that with the Butcher Army spread so thin hunting down other followers of the Goddess of Death, there would be only a few coming for you. Hopefully, you managed to escape them, and they'd give up instantly, but you knew that that would never happen.

Besides, you still wanted to repay them for their crimes against your family. You weren't exactly prepared for it now, but you supposed that you would have to be.

The iron blade that had scarcely left your hand dangled loosely at your side as you slipped out of your back door. If it were any other group of people, you would be hesitant to use your blade against them. This was the Butcher Army, though, and deep in your chest where your fear ran cold, red-hot rage simmered.

You turned your head for one last glimpse of your home with its new garden and the vines that climbed over the roof. Your heart sunk as you imagined what would become of it in a few hours. All that you had worked for over the past decade was going to be turned to smoldering ash.

You muttered your goodbyes to your family, wishing that you had the time to visit their final resting places, but time was of the essence. You turned away from your home with shaky resolve. There would be no one to tend to their graves once you were gone, but they would never get the justice they deserved if you stayed and died with their memories.

You didn't shed anymore tears as you march headfirst into the dense forest ahead of you. Your fingers clenched around the iron sword in your grip, and you silently prayed for the souls of your family to look away as you forged ahead. One way or another, you were about to walk headfirst into a life of blood and death.