"I am the son of a nobleman, a man by the name of Damian Redgrave," Garfield said, lifting his gaze to Tristan, sorrow weighing heavily upon his features. "I was once an orphan—someone with nothing to his name, nothing to his future—until Damian Redgrave came to me with a proposition."
Tristan, intrigued yet cautious, asked quietly, "What was the proposition?"
"If I agreed to become his heir, I would inherit his wealth, his name, and his standing," Garfield replied. "His wife struggled to bear him an heir, so he came searching for the bastard son he had abandoned long ago. And I—who had nothing, not even the heart to care for those around me—accepted without hesitation."
Tristan stared at Garfield in silence. He offered no judgment, no interruption, no visible reaction to the confession unfolding before him.
Garfield continued, his voice growing heavier with each word.
"On the very day I met Damian Redgrave, I met my half-sister as well—Veronica Redgrave. She was frail in body, yet gentle beyond measure. Though she had never met me before, she knew who I was, and she treated me not as a stain upon her family's honor, but as a human being. Not a bastard. Not a mistake. I agreed to Damian's terms and moved into an apartment in the Second Sector of the Middle District. I was trained by the Redgrave family butler, and whenever he visited, Veronica accompanied him. Over time, we grew close, and soon I came to see her as a true sibling—someone I genuinely cared for. For a while… everything seemed fine, until—"
Garfield stopped abruptly, as though the words themselves refused to pass his lips. His expression darkened further, grief tightening its grip around his eyes.
Tristan did not need him to continue. From Garfield's faltering voice and his inability to speak further, Tristan could already piece together what had followed.
He stepped forward and gently untied the rope bound around Garfield's torso.
"Your story is a painful one," Tristan said quietly. "I cannot claim to have lived through the same suffering, but I understand your longing to be accepted—and I understand why that longing drives you to act as you do."
As the final knot loosened, Garfield looked up at Tristan, a small, fragile smile forming upon his face.
"And if you will accept it," Tristan added, extending his hand, "I am willing to help you—whenever you need it."
Garfield grasped Tristan's forearm firmly, and Tristan pulled him to his feet.
"Thank you," Garfield said softly. "Brother."
After several minutes of quiet conversation, Garfield noticed the thin scar along Tristan's cheek, faint crimson blood still clinging to it.
"…Did I do that?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.
Tristan brushed the blood away with his fingers and smiled lightly. "You should've seen what I did to the other guy."
A dull sting suddenly flared in Garfield's shoulder. He glanced beneath his clothing and discovered the wound there had already been carefully bandaged.
"Who treated my wound?" he asked.
Tristan rinsed his hands in the nearby pool of water before answering. "Amelia. She was worried about you. You should thank her—and apologize—when she wakes."
Garfield looked toward Amelia, who slept peacefully upon the sand. Her expression was calm, almost serene, and the rising desert sun painted her silver hair in warm hues, accentuating her quiet beauty.
"We should wake her," Tristan said as he approached her. "We've lingered here too long. We need to move."
Garfield, noticing Tristan's exhaustion, spoke quickly. "Brother, are you sure? You barely look like you can stand. Shouldn't you rest a little longer?"
Tristan glanced back, shaking his head as he forced a reassuring—yet deceptive—smile.
"I'll be fine. And we can't afford to stay here. We don't know how many Sand Worms remain, so it's better to keep moving than wait for them to find us."
Tristan gently tapped Amelia's shoulder, waking the silver-haired maiden. She quickly noticed Garfield was awake and smiled; Garfield returned the gesture with a small wave. Soon, they gathered their belongings and continued through the desert, encountering numerous Sand Worms along the way. Given their condition, they avoided engaging multiple beasts at once and steered clear of high-end One-Star creatures.
At Amelia's insistence, Tristan refrained from fighting, leaving Garfield and herself to handle the battles. With the time afforded to him, Tristan examined the Shadow Wolf's cloak. Its abilities remained unclear, and no amount of speculation offered him certainty. Then, he recalled the words tied to the relic.
Death is silent—and so are you.
An idea formed.
The beast they soon encountered possessed extraordinary sensory abilities, capable of reading even the slightest fluctuations in Star Energy. Though most creatures relied on sight, this serpent-type beast was blind, sensing the world purely through energy. It was not overwhelmingly strong—only a mid-level One-Star—but nearly impossible to strike.
Tristan donned the cloak, enduring its revolting stench, and drew his blade. As Garfield and Amelia distracted the serpent, Tristan realized something astonishing—the creature could not sense him at all.
He moved silently through the sand, each step swallowed by the desert. Raising his blade, its dark edge gleaming beneath the scorching sun, he brought it down in a single, flawless strike, severing the serpent's head without resistance.
[Death Shard Collected.]
[Death Shards: 99/100]
Garfield and Amelia stared at Tristan, surprise and confusion etched deeply upon their faces. They returned their weapons to their Celestial Forge and approached him.
"How did you do that?" Amelia asked.
Tristan smirked, removed the cloak, and handed it to her. She pinched her nose and recoiled instantly, disgusted by the smell.
"This relic conceals my presence from those who can sense it," Tristan explained. "It was a gamble—but my hunch paid off."
Garfield raised an eyebrow. "Your instincts seem to guide you correctly more often than not."
He said nothing further, choosing not to press the matter. Tristan pretended not to notice and returned the cloak to his bag.
"We should keep moving," Tristan said, gazing toward the horizon. "I think we're nearing a new terrain."