The silence in the small smithy was broken only by Meron's heavy, terrified sobbing. He was still pressed against the dirt floor, his hands covering the back of his neck as if he expected a blade to fall at any second.
"Please," Meron whimpered. "Just make it quick. Don't let me see it. Don't let me see the face."
Eon stood there, his hand still hovering in the air where a crate of iron had been just moments ago. He looked at Elsa, who was biting her lip, looking completely lost. This wasn't the reaction they had expected.
"Meron, stand up," Eon said, trying to make his voice sound as human and gentle as possible. "I'm not going to hurt you. Look at me. I'm just a customer."
"No!" Meron shrieked, pressing his face harder into the dust. "That's what they say! That's how the stories start! You're a Homunculus! I saw the magic! You swallowed the metal into the void! Only they can do that!"
Eon sighed, feeling a massive headache coming on. He realized that his 'Inventory' skill might be a nightmare to the people of this world. He reached down and firmly grabbed Meron's shoulder, forcing him to sit up.
"I am not a demon, and I am not a monster," Eon said slowly, looking into the man's watery, bloodshot eyes. "Now, why are you so afraid? What is a Homunculus?"
Meron shook like a leaf in a storm. It took several minutes of Elsa and Eon repeating that they weren't killers before the old smith finally stopped gasping for air. He sat on the floor, leaning his back against a cold anvil, his face still ghostly white.
"It was eleven years ago," Meron whispered, as he sipped water from a glass and started explaining. His voice was still trembling from fear. "In my prime. I was a master then. I thought I feared nothing. But then... I met one of them."
He stared into the shadows of the shop, his eyes seeing something from the past. "Nobody knows where they come from. Some say they are made with forbidden Magic by ancient Wizards. They are called Homunculi, artificial humans. They have no souls, only magic. And they are literally the walking nightmares."
Meron wiped sweat from his forehead with a shaking hand. "Most people who see a Homunculus never live to tell the tale. And the few who survive... they are never the same. There is a curse on them. Whoever looks at a Homunculus's face doesn't see a person. They see their own worst fear. They see the thing that haunts their dreams."
He looked at Eon's hooded face with pure dread. "I saw a girl once. She looked normal at first, but then she used that same magic. She touched a cart full of swords, and they just... vanished into her palm. I was young and stupid. I grabbed her arm and demanded to know what magic she was using. I demanded to see her face."
Meron choked back a sob. "She pulled back her hood. I don't remember what she actually looked like. All I remember is the screaming. I fainted instantly. When I woke up, she was gone. But that night... twenty people in the next street died in their sleep. Their faces were twisted in terror, as if they had died of fear itself. She never came back for me, but her face is imprinted on my brain. Every time I close my eyes, I see that shadow."
He looked at Eon again, his lip trembling. "When you swallowed that iron, I thought she had finally come back. I thought my time was up, i thought she came for me after all this time." he shuddered after saying it.
Eon felt a pang of pity for the old man. Meron wasn't just a grumpy drunk; he was a man living with a years-old scar on his soul.
"I am not that girl, Meron," Eon said softly.
To prove it, Eon reached up and grabbed the edge of his dark hood.
"Wait, Eon!" Elsa whispered, reaching out to stop him. If he showed his face in the middle of the market district, it was a massive risk.
"It's fine, Elsa," Eon replied. "He's already seen too much. We need him to trust us, not fear us."
Eon pulled the hood back.
The afternoon light from the open door hit his face. His skin was pale and perfect, and his long hair fell over his shoulders like silk. His ears were long and pointed, marking him clearly as an elf, but not just any elf. There was a regal, ancient beauty to his features that was impossible to find in a "monster."
Meron stared. He didn't scream. He didn't faint. His mouth fell open as he looked at the High Elf standing before him. He didn't see his worst fear. He saw a young man with calm, deep eyes.
"You're... an Elf?" Meron breathed, his voice full of shock. "A High Elf? But...how can this be. How can an elf come outside without their master?"
"I am a free elf," Eon said, pulling the hood back up to hide his face once more. "And as you can see, I am not a girl, and I am not a soulless machine. I am just a person trying to survive."
Meron stayed on the floor for a long time, processing what he had seen. The terror was gone, replaced by a deep, numbing confusion. "But the magic... the swallowing..."
"It is a rare magic, yes," Eon lied easily. "But it is not forbidden. Now, stand up. We have work to do."
Eon walked over to the remaining piles of leather and flux, touching them and sending them into his inventory. Meron watched, still flinching slightly, but he didn't run away this time.
"Meron," Eon said, turning to the smith. "You've seen my face. You've seen my magic. I can't let you stay here and talk to the tax collectors or the Duke's spies."
Meron's face fell. "Are you... are you going to kill me?"
"No," Eon said with a small smile. "I'm going to kidnap you. You're coming with us to the Edger mansion. You'll live there, and you'll work there."
"I won't!" Meron barked, some of his old grumpiness returning. "I'm an independent businessman! I'm not going to be a slave in some noble's basement!"
"We have a forge," Eon said casually. "A clean, massive forge. And we have Adamantium tools. Real ones. Not the rusted scrap you have here."
Meron froze. His eyes widened. "Adamantium? You're lying. Nobody has Adamantium tools in this county."
"Come and see for yourself," Eon challenged him. "If I'm lying, you can walk away. But if I'm telling the truth... think of what you could create with the right materials and no taxes to worry about."
The smith's soul, which had been buried under years of debt and misery, flickered back to life. A master smith couldn't resist the lure of legendary metal.
"Fine," Meron grumbled, standing up and brushing the dirt off his apron. "But if there's no Adamantium, I'm coming back."
They quickly packed Meron's personal tools and belongings into a small bag, and the group piled back into the carriage. As they drove away from the dying market, Meron sat in the corner, staring at Eon's hooded figure with a mix of curiosity and lingering wariness.
The ride back was quiet. Eon was lost in thought, planning how to integrate Meron into the assembly line. With a master human smith and the elven smiths working together, their production speed would double.
But as the carriage rounded the final bend in the road that led to the Edger mansion, the air suddenly changed. Elsa sat up straight, her nose twitching.
"Eon," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Do you see that? There is no one they recognize."
Eon pulled the curtain back. His heart stopped.
The grand front gates of the estate, which were usually kept closed, were wide open. Or rather, they had been torn off their hinges. One of the heavy iron gates was lying in the dirt, twisted like a piece of tin foil.
As the carriage got closer, they saw men.
Dozens of them. They weren't the Diablo Unit, and they weren't the Duke's men. These men wore mismatched leather armor and carried jagged swords. They looked like mercenaries or high-level bandits. They were standing around the front lawn, laughing and tossing items out of the mansion's windows.
The massive front door of the mansion was shattered, laying in pieces across the marble steps.
"No," Eon breathed, his heartbeat rising tenfold. It drummed in his ears like a war. THRUM.THRUM.THRUM.
The elves. The children. The sick Count and Countess Teressa. They were all inside.
"Stop the carriage!" Eon roared.
Before the wheels had even stopped spinning, Eon jumped out. His exhaustion was gone, replaced by a cold, murderous panic. He didn't care about secret identities or hiding his magic anymore.
He ran toward the broken house, his eyes were glowing with a terrifying light.
"If you touched them," Eon whispered to the wind, "I will show you what a real nightmare looks like."
They all got out of the carriage and moved toward the mansion just behind Eon.
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