Online: Eiodolon Realms – Child of Ruin-Chapter 52 - 51 – Chains We Chose

The silence between Eron and the old man was a thick, choking thing. Dust drifted in the stale air of the crumbling room, motes catching the last light of the setting sun that leaked through the cracks in the boarded window.

Eron’s breathing was ragged. His fists were clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms hard enough to leave crescent marks. He wanted to punch the old man in the face—wanted to scream until his throat gave out—but the words spilling out instead were sharp, shaking things.

"The people you see outside they are all illusion. They don’t exist anymore. But there was a time when they were alive. I was the one who brought them all here. In this cursed village." 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

"You knew," Eron said, his voice low, trembling with barely contained rage. "You knew what was gonna happen to them. You didn’t just know—you brought them here. You brought them all to there death."

The old man’s brow furrowed. "Watch your tone, boy."

"My tone?" Eron’s laugh was bitter. "My tone? There are dead families buried under this dirt, under your precious home, and you—" His voice cracked, but he pushed through, almost spitting the words— "you were the one who brought them here like cattle to slaughter."

The old man straightened, leaning on his staff. "Enough."

"No," Eron snarled, stepping forward. "You’re going to answer me. I think I deserve to know this much at least—" His voice broke, and suddenly the fire in him faltered, replaced by something rawer, uglier. "Why did you bring them all here after witnessing what happened here."

The old man didn’t respond at first. His jaw tightened, but behind the hardness was something else—a flicker of regret, or maybe weariness.

Eron took another step forward, but his knees almost buckled. He could feel heat stinging his eyes, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "I have seen many people here. They had kids. Little kids. You knew what this place was. And you still brought them here."

As Eron was aying all this a sudden thought crossed his mind.

’All this is just a game isn’t it. Why am i caring so much about it? Why do I care whether they live or die, they are only npc’s.’

For a long moment, neither of them spoke as both were trapped in their own thoughts. Outside, the wind scraped dry leaves across the empty courtyard.

When the old man finally spoke, his voice was no longer sharp, it was heavy. "You think I don’t know what happened here? You think I don’t remember every face? Every scream?"

Eron’s fists shook. "Then why?"

The old man exhaled slowly, lowering himself onto a wooden stool that creaked under his weight. His gaze drifted to the floor. "Because I was asked. No, I was commanded. The land itself... it called for people. Promised me that if i brought these people it will give me my family and a place where these people could rebuild, where they could be safe." He let out a humorless laugh. "I was a fool. I believed it."

Eron blinked. "The... land?"

"Yes. It does speak, sometimes. Not in words you hear with your ears. More like... a pull. A promise you feel in your bones. Back then, the world was harsher than you can imagine, and I—" He stopped, staring at his own weathered hands. "I wanted to believe there was still a place where people could live in peace. I wanted to believe I could still have my family back."

Eron swallowed hard, his anger now twisted into something harder to hold—confusion, grief, even pity. "So you gathered them."

"Yes," the old man said quietly. "I went from settlement to settlement, spoke of this hidden valley, this... sanctuary. And they came. Gods help me, they came."

Eron’s voice was barely a whisper now. "And then?"

"They settled in," the old man said, eyes distant, "and then the land took its due.It showed its true colours like it always does. First it was sickness like had happened to my family, then came the shadows. The same way it did before... the same way it always does."

Eron’s breath caught. "Always?"

The old man met his gaze for the first time in minutes, and there was no defense in his expression now—only a deep, unshakable sadness. "This place was never a village, boy. As I told you before It was a ruin long before you set foot in it. A ruin that feeds on hope, on families and their lives. I was not the first man who this land took advantage of. There were many more before me and maybe there is someone who is being fooled even now in this place in the real world."

Eron’s mouth went dry.

The old man leaned back, staring past him as if seeing ghosts. "And I... I was its last messenger."

Eron’s voice wavered. "But... if this place is like what you said then why are these people still here, looing so normal?"

The old man’s lips thinned. "Because what you see is not the truth. The grass, the houses, even the air you breathe—it’s a mask. This valley is an echo of something that still festers elsewhere, in the true Eidolon Realm. The real land still exists... and still hungers."

Eron’s blood ran cold. "You mean that—"

"I mean," the old man said, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper, "that this is just an illusionary fragment. A lure. The real cursed land lies far away, in the world beyond this shard, waiting for the next fool who believes in promises too sweet to be real."

Eron glanced toward the boarded window, a strange chill crawling along his spine. The sunset outside seemed redder than it should be, bleeding into the horizon like fresh blood in water.

The old man’s eyes followed his gaze. "And if that land calls again... someone will answer. Always. like someone has always has."