Chapter 3

My feet hit the familiar stone floor and I listen for noises. Footsteps or breathing from an intruder would be fatal, for them. I look around at the strewn collection of clothes and different smashed bottles and food items that lay around, mostly pushed to the walls. Last time I had been here it had been in a rush and with friends; fear and excitement coursing through our veins. With people I thought I could trust. Then they robbed me and betrayed me. In that order.

I sigh and walk on my old favourite dress shirt, towards the far wall. It's a small room, mostly for storage and a small bed just in case. Across the floor are two rooms, less rooms than containment cells. On my left is a cow, plain and simple. He was named after a special person I lost or, better yet, was forced to lose. Herbert. I pat him solidly on the head as he continues to munch on something he probably shouldn't be eating.

On my right is a skeleton, held together by wire and string. He sits there, slumped against the wall, staring at me with eyeless sockets, jaw wide open. I wipe my face gently,

"What, have I got something on my face?" I half-heartedly laugh as he continues to sit there, unmoving. Silence takes over again, and I focus of Herbert's huffs instead of the whispers I barely hear. Since the fall of Manburg they had had little to say.

~A spitting image of me really.

A clear voice shocks me out of my reality and into one of the past. I look around in a panic, swinging my head in opposite directions violently, searching for the voice's origin. Dirt walls began to close in on me again like a life I once lived, even though the walls were stone but a second ago. Then my eyes adjust to the darkness, slowing my racing heartbeat.

~Why is it dark? Who turned out the lights? Someone is here – blood for the-

I shake my head before the voices can continue to elevate my panic. I unsheathe a dagger from my thigh and prepare to battle for my life. A footstep echoes through the next chamber over and I bend my knees in anticipation.

"Techno?"

My muscles instantly relax as Phil's voice cuts through the darkness. He comes through the arch way that separates the main room from the, now empty, bunker.

"Mate? I heard you talking to someone, is someone here?" He asks as he shine the lantern up to my face, somewhat blinding me. I look over my own lantern and wonder how it went out. I stand up straight and put away my dagger swiftly.

"Just the usual." I lie, squinting against the light and gesturing to my head, to the voices. I couldn't have him knowing I was talking to a cow and hallucinating. Phil had never been much of a father figure to me, I shared a lot of his personality traits and we got on more like friends. But I still longed for his approval from time to time. Not that I would ever admit that. "When did you get here?"

"Not long ago, I was checking out the place. You live like the pig you are it seems," he says with a laugh, putting a comforting hand on my elbow, weather hand clasping my arm. "I'm glad I found you; are you ready to head off?"

I gaze down at him in confusion,

"Head off? Where?" Exasperation fills my lungs, "I haven't seen you in years Phil."

He looks down and, not for the first time - I can't gauge his emotion, then he looks back up at me.

"We can talk on the way; you're probably going to be wanted around Manbu- L'Manburg soon."

I inwardly sigh and turn to Herbert, watching his ears flick invisible flies sporadically.

"We'll come back for them, first we need to get to my house." Phil starts to move up the ladder as questions bubble up in my throat. I decidedly keep them there and pat Herbert, his long fur practically glows under my war-torn fingertips.

"See you soon." I breathe to him then start to ascend the ladder myself.

~~~

Rowing a boat was not in my skill set. Lifting the oars was complicated and more often than not I was dragging half the oar against the current.

"I'm not sure I'm much help Phil," I call down the boat to behind me where Phil sat, rowing with ease.

"Nonsense, you're doing great," I look back at the obvious lie and Phil cackles. I roll my eyes and try to concentrate on paddling in time with him. We glide through the water and the rocking relaxes me slightly.

"The new wall's ugly." Phil says shortly, less of an observation more of a judgement. I nod thoroughly. Dream had gone mental, a psychopath through and through I suppose. He had put up a huge wall around what was once L'Manburg, a large obsidian one at that. I was unsure how they provoked him, but they were fools for doing so.

"Yeah, as if they hadn't gone through enough already." Phil grunts in agreement. They had already started re-building L'Manburg, and I had caught wind that a phoenix government was being born from the ashes of Wilbur's L'Manburg. Tubbo had stepped up, but I was tired of their back and forth, their repeated mistakes over and over and over again. Even without my help they would probably end up destroying themselves.

"You messed them up with those explosives though," Phil said and to my surprise it sounded like a compliment, or even praise.

"You're not mad?" I ask suspiciously.

"No. They had it coming really,"

"Well I can't really take credit, it was Wil's idea-" I snap my mouth closed and glance back at him. As expected, a deep sadness floods his features and in his deep blue eyes something fizzles, regret probably. "Sorry."

The thought of killing a family member was sickening. The thought of killing a symbol of your love, a son was worse. The though of killing your eldest son who was begging for death was worse still. I couldn't imagine what it must have felt like to be one step closer to ending your own blood line.

~Imagine what it felt like. To hit major organs. The heavy hilt balanced perfectly in your hand. It was his own sword.

The voices tag-teamed me, finishing each other sentences. They had come at the inkling of death, like sharks to blood in the water. Wilbur's blood. I needed to regain focus, regain level-headedness. I needed control. The thought of needing to fight for my own thoughts, my own head was embarrassing. So, embarrassing.

~So, embarrassing.

So, embarrassing.

"Techno?" Phil pipes up and the voices are turned down. He had an amazing way of relaxing and giving me concentration with a singular word. "You good?"

"I'm going to retire." And without hesitation he says with a small smile,

"I've got the perfect thing for you."