Online: Eiodolon Realms – Child of Ruin-Chapter 42 - 41 – The Knock and the Flame

As Eron stepped toward the door , he hesitated. He clenched his fist, raised it to knock—

WHAM.

The door flung open before he even touched it. Standing in the doorway was the old man, face twisted in rage.

"What the hell are you doing here?" the old man barked. "I didn’t say you could come knockin’ at my door, did I?"

Eron blinked, startled. "I—uh—I just thought—"

"Thought what? That you’d wake me up with your damn cheerfulness? Don’t you people have shame anymore?"

"Or did you Want to waste more of my time? Thought you’d drop off another lump of scrap and get a pat on the back?"

"No," Eron said, straightening. His nerves burned under his skin. "I finished it. The armor."

For a moment, silence reigned. Then, without a word, the old man turned and stomped back into the house, leaving the door open.

The old man had turned sharply and while walking he was grumbling curses like they were nails between his teeth.

"Well?" he barked without turning back. "You’re here. Might as well come."

Eron hesitated. He took a breath and stepped inside.

Eron followed silently. The old man’s temper was familiar by now, but something felt... different. There had been more than just anger in his voice. There was fear. Panic. Even guilt?

The old man’s house was dimly lit, cluttered, and oddly lived-in. There were scrolls and books stacked lazily on low wooden shelves, a dusty oil lamp flickering in one corner, and a large wooden table covered with mechanical parts, broken runes, and shards of cracked crystals. A heavy scent of iron and oil hung in the air, mixed with something older, almost like ashes from a long-dead fire.

But what caught Eron’s attention most was a locked door at the far back wall. Reinforced with darksteel rivets and bound by magical runes faintly glowing with green light, it was entirely out of place in an otherwise normal home.

The old man turned around with a snarl. "Will you will bring it, or are you just here to gawk like a tourist?"

Eron snapped out of it and unwrapped the bundle.

"Well?" he said, gesturing vaguely at the table. "What is it? Another trash armour? A sword in form of armour?"

Wordless, Eron stepped forward, unwrapped the cloth bundle, and laid the armor down gently.

A chestplate. Slim. Reinforced with layered steel and flexible bands. Not perfect, but strong. Sturdy. Real.

The moment the old man laid eyes on it, his scowl softened, just a fraction.

The old man leaned forward, squinting. His brows slowly lowered. His eyes moved over the rivets, the contour lines, the hammer strikes that had been reshaped and buffed out.

He stayed silent for a long time.

"...Not bad," he muttered finally. "Not bad at all."

Eron blinked. "What?"

"I said, not bad!" the old man snapped louder, setting the armor down with care. "Didn’t think you had it in you. Thought you’d end up crying in some alley the first time your work cracked. But... you didn’t."

Eron didn’t move. He didn’t smile. That praise, once something he craved so desperately, felt... hollow now.

The old man looked at him again, this time without a sneer.

"You’re not talented," he said.

Eron frowned.

"You’re not," the old man repeated, walking slowly back to the forge side of the house. "But you’ve got something else. Most brats come in here thinking they’ll swing a hammer once and change the world. You? You took the beating and still stood."

Eron followed him, placing the chestplate on a side table near the bellows. "Then... will you teach me properly?"

The old man finally looked at him. "You may not have the blood of a smith. But you’ve got something better. You’ve got the damned will to keep swinging."

The old man grunted. "Tomorrow."

"But—"

"I said tomorrow. You look like shit, kid. Like a forge rat dragged through the soot pile."

Eron opened his mouth to argue, but then he caught his reflection in the polished blacksteel of the armor. The old man wasn’t wrong. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair a mess, and dark circles marked his face.

Still, something tugged at him. Not the armor. Not even the praise. But that door.

His eyes flicked toward it again. "What’s behind that door?"

The old man stopped. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

Eron instantly regretted asking.

"Nothing that concerns you," the old man said after a beat. But his voice had changed. No longer fiery, but cold. Guarded.

Then silence stretched between them.

"What?" the old man snapped, noticing the look in Eron’s eyes.

"There’s something inside your house." Eron asked.

The old man’s face stiffened like he’d been struck.

"What?"

Eron didn’t back down. "You opened the door like you were afraid of someone. Something. And you cursed me before I even said anything. What’s in there, old man?"

The forge crackled softly. The old man’s mouth twisted. "That’s none of your business."

"I made that armor," Eron said, tapping the chestplate. "You told me not to come unless I had something real to show. I did. So don’t I deserve some truth?"

The old man’s hands curled into fists. For a moment, Eron thought he was going to be punched. But instead, the old man turned around and stared at the cooling coals in the forge.

"...Some things," the old man said after a long pause, "should remain behind closed doors."

Then he looked over his shoulder. "You did well. That armor’s rare grade. Might not sell for much, but it’ll protect someone well. You earned your place in the forge."

Eron’s heart beat faster. He didn’t know whether to feel proud or nervous. His question remained unanswered—but he could tell the old man wasn’t going to give in that easily.

Still, he took the partial victory.

"Thank you," Eron said quietly.

The old man turned away again. "Get out of here. I need to think."

"But—"

"I said get going," the old man barked. "You’ll see me at the forge tomorrow. Maybe then I’ll decide whether to show you the next steps."

Eron stood still for a second longer, then finally turned and began walking back.

He glanced back once at the house, at the flicker of strange light still burning behind the old man’s closed windows.

Something was hidden in there.

And Eron intended to find out.