Garfield cast one final glance at Eric, then at Tristan, before storming toward the group of boys and assisting the student trapped at the center. He lifted the boy and attempted to walk away—but as he turned to leave, the circle of students moved to block his path. Garfield met them with a single glance—an intense, searing look that spoke volumes.
If they dared to stop him again, they would bear witness to the fury of the golden-haired boy. Fear swelled in their chests, and they instinctively stepped back, clearing the path. Garfield walked away, carrying the battered student in his arms.
Eric and Tristan remained behind the tree, silently observing everything that had transpired. Eric clicked his tongue in irritation, then turned and began to walk off the field. Tristan, indifferent to the unfolding events, followed a few paces behind.
"Why did you just stand there and let your brother walk off and stir up trouble?" Eric asked, his frustration mounting, his usual calm beginning to unravel.
"Even if I tried to stop him, he wouldn't have listened," Tristan replied with a shrug. "He does what he wants. There's no point."
Eric said nothing, but his clenched jaw betrayed his simmering anger. They continued walking, eventually taking a narrow path that led to a small, run-down shed—easily mistaken for an abandoned outhouse. Tristan paused, confusion creeping into his thoughts.
Eric didn't stop. He approached the shed, opened the door, and gestured for Tristan to enter.
"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that," Tristan said hesitantly, his voice cautious.
Eric stared at him with a blank expression.
"Get in. This is the next area we're supposed to patrol."
'How are we supposed to patrol such a cramped space?' Tristan thought. Still, curiosity gnawed at him. He hesitated a moment longer, then stepped inside.
Eric shut the door behind them and flipped on a single, dim light bulb hanging from the ceiling. The room was cluttered with gardening tools—shovels, rakes, spades, and trowels—and in the corner, bags of soil were stacked one atop the other. Tristan turned to Eric, clearly baffled.
"Are we supposed to make sure all the dirt's still here or something?" he asked sarcastically.
Eric ignored the remark and walked toward one of the walls. His fingers began to feel along the surface, searching deliberately. Tristan watched silently. Moments later, Eric found what he was looking for—a piece of the wooden paneling that served as a hidden switch. He pressed it.
The floor began to tremble. Tristan heard the grinding of gears as a section of the ground shifted, revealing a hidden stone stairway. One by one, lanterns embedded in the walls flickered to life, casting a pale glow along the spiraling descent.
Tristan said nothing. He simply stared at the path now unveiled before him.
Eric began his descent without a word. Tristan followed.
They walked down the spiral staircase, and soon found themselves in a vast, hidden forest nestled beneath the school itself. The moment they stepped into the woods, the ground rumbled.
Heavy footsteps echoed—loud, primal, inhuman.
Crashing through the trees ahead came a monstrous creature—a massive wolf-like beast with coarse grey fur, claws like daggers, and teeth sharp enough to cleave stone. Its black nose twitched as it sniffed the air, and its ears, long and pointed, turned toward every sound.
Tristan instinctively stepped back, hand on the hilt of his blade, ready for battle. His muscles tensed, but Eric stood still—unfazed.
"You can calm yourself," Eric said smoothly.
The beast drew closer, its massive paws thudding against the ground. It leaned forward and sniffed Tristan, taking in his scent. Tristan remained stiff, unsure whether to trust Eric's words.
"What's going on?" he asked, his voice barely steady.
"It's just getting familiar with your scent. You don't need to worry. It's tamed."
Just then, a voice called out from the direction the beast had charged from.
"Tusk! Where are you?"
The wolf barked in response.
A boy emerged from the foliage—a short student with black hair and olive skin, dressed in the academy uniform. He walked up to the beast and began patting its leg.
"You shouldn't be running off like that," he scolded gently.
"I see you're doing well, Jason," Eric said coolly.
The boy walked around the beast and finally noticed the visitors. Upon recognizing Eric, his expression brightened.
"Eric! It's great to see you. What brings you down here?"
"Just patrolling," Eric replied, nodding toward Tristan. "This one's a new member of the committee."
Jason's eyes shifted to the red-haired boy beside Eric.
"Greetings. I'm Jason Wilson, second-year. I serve the Academy as a Tamer."
"Tristan Merigold. Nice to meet you," Tristan replied. "A Tamer?"
Jason's smile widened, pride gleaming in his eyes.
"Since the founding of the Academy, there has always been one bloodline capable of taming Fallen Star Beasts. We train and bond with specific creatures to protect the school from threats—especially wild beasts." He knelt beside the creature and lifted a patch of fur on its right leg, revealing an emblem. "Every one of our beasts bears the mark of the Academy."
Tristan said nothing. But behind his blank expression, memories surged—memories of the beast that tore his mother away from him.
On the surface, he remained calm. But inside, his fury churned like a storm.
'So… I've gotten closer to the perpetrator.'
Tristan wore an intrigued expression as he proceeded to ask another question.
"So, there have been a lot of Tamers, am I right?"
"Yes. Are you interested?" Jason asked.
Tristan smiled and replied
"Very interested."