“Nothing that can’t be sewn up.” Techno looked down at the fabric, wondering if they were looking at the same tarp. The coarse canvas had lasted a long while, but now it frayed at the edges and was worn thin by the many storms it had protected against. In lieu of a response, he turned to Phil and stuck his hand through the tear in the tarp. “We’ll need to replace this one soon,” Technoblade called over his shoulder.
#DIAMOND RUSH SOUTH DESPERATION DISTRUST FREE#
Now all the Dreamon needed was a new mind to influence, a mind that could work to free it from the Void it inhabited. Still, the more he knew, the more risk there was to limit the Dreamon’s reach. It wasn’t this man’s fault he couldn’t serve this purpose. But now, banished between worlds, its only task is to find its way back. It promises, and it lies, and it tricks, and in its wake the rules of gods and men fall away into void until all that is left is tortured souls. So he reached for it, held it in his hands, let the icy gaze of the ancient eye wash over him. The cracked, fiery emerald had called out, its voice as smooth as the sea, promising power, knowledge, glory.
He had sealed his fate the moment he touched the Eye. Perhaps he had a name, or a family, or a purpose – but in the end, in his final moments, the only choice that truly mattered was this one, in which chaos was reintroduced to the world. Perhaps he was curious, or perhaps he was driven. Perhaps he considered himself an adventurer, a scavenger, a worker.
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