Tristan lay on his bed, thoughts emerging one after another, though his mind soon drifted toward the uncertain fate of his already established team. Judging by their expressions after their conversation, it was evident that Garfield and Amelia were not particularly pleased with one another, and Tristan was all too aware of this.
Tristan began to pinch the bridge of his nose as he contemplated what to do next. He had two options: the first, to let things play out naturally and hope they resolved themselves; the second, to intervene as a mediator. He much preferred the former, yet in the deepest recesses of his mind, Tristan knew the conflict would never be resolved if left to the two most hard-headed individuals he knew in this world.
Tristan sighed and muttered, "I seriously have to involve myself in adolescent drama. I'm far too old for this."
He turned his head slightly toward his desk, where Bertal Wenkay's diary rested. He couldn't help but ponder how peculiar it was that everything that had transpired seemed to connect back to Bertal Wenkay.
Tristan sat upright, his eyes widening — exhaustion lingered, but his thoughts raced unrestrained. He placed his hand over his mouth, astonished by the realization that had struck him.
'It truly is strange, now that I think of it,' he mused, as a daunting understanding dawned upon him.
Tristan slowly began to retrace everything that had occurred since his arrival at the academy… no, even further back.
'I was told by the lingering spirit of Marry Merigold that she had been slain by a beast — not an ordinary beast, but one controlled by someone within the academy. That revelation is what compelled me to come here in the first place. Once I arrived, I discovered that several students were afflicted by an illness — one eerily similar to the symptoms suffered by Bertal Wenkay's experimental subjects after being injected with his serum.'
Tristan took a moment to gather his thoughts, piecing together the overlapping connections.
'I then learned about a beast tamer residing above the laboratory we sought. We later uncovered the shared bloodline of beast tamers — and how Bertal Wenkay could very well be the prime suspect in Marry's murder due to his ties to Zafrit's lineage. That led me to question how Eric had acquired the serum's formula, especially since the state of the laboratory made it evident it hadn't been used in years — meaning he never found it there. The answer soon revealed itself.'
Eleanor Hughes — an agent of a secret organization unknown to anyone before.
'Even though she withheld much, what she did reveal tied both her and her organization in the serum's creation. But then arises the question — where did they acquire the formula?'
As the fragments began to align, the answer to Tristan's question became unmistakably clear.
It struck him like lightning.
'The only possible explanation is that the creator of the serum is still alive — and is a member of their organization.'
"So that's it," he whispered aloud.
Everything that had transpired thus far had been orchestrated by a single man — Bertal Wenkay. He was likely the one who sent the beast to attack Tristan's home, the one who had created the serum thirty years ago, and the same one manufacturing it again for this newly unearthed secret organization. Tristan wasn't sure whether he had been directly included in Bertal's intricate scheme, but one truth stood firm — he was entangled in all of it.
Tristan's mind drifted back to that fateful night when he first arrived in this world — and the condition he had been in.
'The original inhabitant of this body perished that day… and I took his place. I didn't realize it back then, but it's highly probable that the one who murdered Marry is the same person who killed the original Tristan Merigold. My connection to Bertal Wenkay runs deep — because why else would he target Marry and Tristan unless he already knew of them? No… perhaps I've assumed he knew nothing. It could very well be that Tristan and his mother once crossed paths with Bertal.'
As this thought dawned, a troubling question followed. "But why?"
'That still doesn't explain why he would slay them. What grudge could he possibly hold against Tristan and his mother? As always, countless questions — and so few answers. Though I remain uncertain about many things, one truth stands unshaken: Tristan Merigold and Bertal Wenkay's destinies are intertwined… and our paths will inevitably cross soon.'
Tristan lay once more upon his bed, his mind still brimming with thoughts yet his spirit strangely calm. He turned onto his side, slowly drifting into slumber.
Eleanor entered a dimly lit chamber, a vast round table occupying its center, encircled by twelve chairs. At the farthest end sat a man cloaked in shadows, his form partially revealed — a powerful silhouette draped in a black trench coat.
Eleanor dropped to one knee, bowed her head, and greeted her messiah.
"Greetings, Unul," she said, her voice imbued with solemn reverence befitting one addressing a figure of great authority.
The figure spoke — his tone calm and inviting, yet laced with a weight that demanded obedience.
"Unsprezece, may I ask what your assignment entailed?"
Eleanor began to sweat, her voice trembling as she replied, "I was instructed to monitor Eric Thindel and ensure he fulfilled his given task."
As her words faded, a black cat leapt onto the table, padding gracefully toward Unul before settling before him. The creature purred softly as he stroked its sleek, dark fur.
"So, tell me — why have you returned here, and not remained at the academy?" His voice sent a chill through Eleanor's body, both terrifying and entrancing.
She remained silent, her thoughts racing for an excuse — until her gaze fell upon the cat before him.
'That cat… it must have told him everything. Then why does he want to hear it from me?'
"I was discovered by a student… his name is Tristan Merigold."
"Hm. Interesting," Unul said softly. "Because, as I recall, your orders were to keep your identity concealed. And yet, from what I've heard, you revealed yourself the moment you were found out."
"Yes, but—" Eleanor began, only for her words to be silenced by her messiah's voice.
"Unsprezece, you disappoint me. You have failed your mission, and failure must be punished…" his tone remained calm — even welcoming — yet it dripped with dread. "However, I shall grant you one final chance. I have another task for you."
Eleanor lifted her head, her eyes wide with anxious hope.
"What would you have me do?" she asked softly.
Unul said nothing, yet though his face remained hidden in the shadows, Eleanor could see it — the unmistakable curve of her messiah's smile.