A Gentle Soul (Technoblade x reader)

IV

The Nether
In which you meet a friend that hates politics and government as much as you do

...~<<<()>>>~...

(Y/N) carefully surveyed the wreckage of her home, a frown etched across her face. It was evident that Schlatt's thugs had caused more than just a simple creeper incident. Determined to reclaim her sanctuary, she set to work cleaning the chaos they left behind.

As she swept away the debris, (Y/N)'s mind churned with a mix of frustration and resolve. The attack might have disrupted her haven, but it wouldn't deter her from restoring it. She headed to her potion brewing station, now a disheveled mess, and began taking stock of the damages.

(Y/N): "Blaze Powder... Glowstone Dust... Nether Wart... They wrecked more than just my potions," she grumbled. She hated it. She needed her materials to be as unspoiled as possible to make decent potions and everything was spilled and ruined. She needed to make a list of things she'd need from the nether.

With renewed determination, she adjusted her list, noting the specific supplies that the thugs had pilfered.

1. **Blaze Powder**: Taken, likely for their own malicious purposes.

2. **Glowstone Dust**: A valuable ingredient, now absent from its usual place.

3. **Nether Wart**: An unmistakable target, the heart of her alchemical pursuits.

4. **Enchanted Books**: The grimoires of knowledge, carried away in the raid.

And much more.

As (Y/N) compiled the list, her focus shifted from restoration to a sense of retribution. The thugs had not only disrupted her peaceful abode but had violated the sanctity of her craft. The journey to replenish her supplies now held a dual purpose – to rebuild her home and to reclaim what had been unjustly taken.

With the list in hand, (Y/N) prepared to venture out into the world, ready to confront the challenges posed by Schlatt's thugs and restore the magic within her potions. The night had brought chaos, but the dawn would witness the resilience of (Y/N) and the restoration of her alchemical haven.

...~<<<()>>>~...

Tommy, Tubbo, and Wilbur ventured into the woods, guided by the hushed murmurs of concerned citizens. The news of thugs wielding bats going into (Y/N)'s forest had spread like wildfire, and the trio couldn't ignore the potential threat to their friend, (Y/N). They all believed that it was yet again unfair that she was caught in the crossfire.

As they approached (Y/N)'s house, a sinking feeling settled in their chests. The air felt heavy with tension. The once-peaceful abode now stood as a testament to chaos, the broken remnants of potions and enchanting books scattered across the floor.

Tommy, the first to enter, let out a low whistle."(Y/N)'s place got trashed."

Tubbo, brows furrowed, inspected the scattered items."This isn't just a random act. Someone made a mess on purpose because (Y/N) never leaves her house this messy."

Wilbur, a grave expression on his face, surveyed the damage."Schlatt's thugs, I'd bet. This is a message."

As the three took in the scene, they noticed a peculiar detail – the broken items were not strewn randomly. Instead, they had been methodically swept into a pile, forming a twisted display of disrespect.