As the barely visible shadow vanished from sight, the abbot of the Abode of Knowledge sank to one knee.

"I understood your 'But' correctly, Sire. Only the worthy shall know your secret," he voiced.

With that, the Maker swayed and, unable to withstand the wave of fatigue washing over him, laid himself down on the cool stones of the meditation terrace.

Hyungang Tu Chong reclined and gazed up at the sky, looking but not truly seeing the beauty of the drifting clouds. A myriad of thoughts were racing through his mind...

For as long as he could remember, he'd always had an interest in history. More accurately, not the entirety of history but a specific time period, referred to in textbooks as: The Coming of True Blood. The time when the phenomenon of shapeshifters entered the world, altering the mundane lives of people. A brief epoch of wars, lasting less than a decade, yet encompassing the entire globe. A bloody period of turmoil, culminating in what is now commonly referred to as the "Power, truly worthy by the right of Blood."

During moments of profound honesty with himself, Tu Chong would admit that his interest was not so much in history as it was in the era of knights. An era that had faded into oblivion with the advent of the shapeshifters. True, chivalry was later revived after a hundred years or so, but these were entirely different knights... Not humans, but shapeshifter masters capable of invoking the power of the Beast whilst maintaining their human form. Yes, glittering armor and gleaming swords returned to the battlefields, but... it wasn't the same knighthood anymore. According to his view, it was "not the same."

His journey started with a historical club at school, then onto the History Faculty at the University of Hanoi, followed by internships in the museums of Aragon. This interest, bordering on an obsession, guided Tu Chong along his life's path until eight years prior, when he discovered his full Power and committed himself to the Service. At that point, Hyungang believed he had outgrown his infatuation. And, for a time, that was the truth...

However, that changed six months ago when a new Phenomenon emerged - the Break. The Break ushered in disastrous Breakthroughs. Breakthroughs and raigs: young men and women whom the Universe summoned to protect Earth from monsters from other planes of existence. Modern Knights! And Tu Chong, in simple terms, "snapped." Furthermore, unlike many who possessed a similar level of Power, Hyungang could see the shadows of projections, and his ability surpassed that of others.

The monk took the intersection of his unique ability and fervent passion as his destined Path. Without a moment's hesitation, Tu Chong embarked on it as soon as he observed the first sketch of a raig in the Break.

Laypeople generally believe that the clergy abide by a rigid hierarchy of power and subordination, and in many respects, they are correct. However, when a Maker, guided by his Providence, asserts that the role of mentor to the Break Knights is his, no one dares to oppose, not even in thought. Those who hold such Power no longer solely belong to themselves, but instead, are tools in the hands of the Universe. At least, that's how it's ideally meant to be...

This day began fairly ordinarily. Awakening, washing, warm-up, meditation, followed by a light breakfast and reading reports streaming in from BKDW and other sources. Then came the usual affairs of the monastery, which consumed as much time as he permitted, yet there always seemed to be more to be done.

The sharp premonition he experienced while reprimanding another hapless novice - promised a new encounter, which Hyungang welcomed as a reprieve from the routine. Regrettably, he had barely enough time to prepare and give instructions so as to prevent any disruption to the impending conversation when he noticed a shadow trailing him.

Over the past months, he had conversed countless times with newly minted Knights - these brash, unsettled youths who were simultaneously terrified and euphoric at their nearly limitless capabilities. Yet these encounters didn't disappoint him, for he saw within each of them a readiness to battle and, if necessary, die to protect others. Wasn't that the primary characteristic of a true Knight?

The first requirement was to put the fledgling raig in their place, and thanks to his ability, Tu Chong never had an issue with this. Forcefully extracted from the Break and no longer feeling secure, they promptly accepted the new rules of the game. He did this not out of anger, not out of a desire to prove himself, not to show who was in charge here, and not even to stroke his own ego. He did this because it was the most efficient and quickest way to garner their attention, if not to have them fully listen.

However, this time, the tried-and-true technique fell short. It was already at this point that he needed to alter his behavior. Now he understands this, but then, especially when the newcomer accepted the invitation, he carried on the conversation in the usual manner, hoping to unsettle the interlocutor with a play on words, forcing him to reveal himself and guide him towards an honest conversation.

In retrospect, it's clear how naive he had been. To engage in word games with such an individual... Even at thirty-seven years old, he had yet to learn to trust his intuition fully. After all, he had sensed the warning breeze, even when it forced him to bow his head to the table, but he didn't heed it, instead persisting with his usual strategy.

Oh! His conversation partner was probably laughing behind his tinted visor, observing his attempts. No, Tu Chong doesn't harbor any resentment for this, on the contrary, he's even grateful for the lesson imparted.

Indeed, everything shifted when he tuned into his instincts and realized something was going utterly awry! But it was too late. With his disrespect and abruptness, he had instigated a confrontation with his interlocutor. Yes, even after recognizing the identity of the individual who had navigated the Circle of Rebirth, retaining memory - and the Soul Stones of reincarnates can only be witnessed in such an intact state in this circumstance - he continued to make one blunder after another.

He shouldn't have initiated that game... Major mistake... He should have simply spoken honestly and candidly, and not attempted to assure himself that his deductions were not the product of a fevered mind, not figments of distant dreams, but reality. Instead, he overplayed his hand, and that individual left.

All is fair.

He made an error and received punishment, and now he's uncertain if he'll ever again be graced with a conversation with the idol of his youth - the Undefeated King!

Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar - the magnitude this name held for Tu Chong! His favorite historical figure! A warrior who, through his sword and skill, united the three Spanish kingdoms, Aragon, Castile, and Valencia, liberating the latter from the Moors. But this wasn't the crux of it. History has seen many such unifiers of lands and conquerors, some with even larger territorial acquisitions. Sire Campeador imprinted his legacy on young Hyungang's soul for a different reason. It was because he was the last king who combatted the shapeshifters asserting power in the world! And he battled successfully, aligning the forces of both humans and sensums, as well as the shapeshifters personally loyal to him. He was never vanquished. He withdrew, recognizing that his struggle only escalated bloodshed and destruction. He built a monastery and renounced worldly matters, embarking on the path of Service before transferring power to a worthy lineage of shapeshifters - the dynasty of Batalladores, which still governs Aragon after nine centuries.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Never before had Tu Chong felt such a whirlwind of emotion. Even when he realized he was different from his peers and endowed with unique strength, he accepted it with more calm than he managed in today's encounter.

Rising to his feet with difficulty, the abbot moved to the table and, kneeling, he opened a secret drawer and extracted a mobile phone, an old model but reliable nonetheless.

The idea that had sparked in his mind minutes earlier was now expanding, its glow outshining everything else. His fingers quickly punched in a number that was once familiar and seemed long forgotten.

"Yes?" Came the voice from the phone.

"Didn't you recognize me, Master? I'm going to be rich!"[1]

"Ha! Little Hyo! Why do you need wealth? You are already rich in spirit!" His mentor in European practice was, as always, playing his part.

"Master, I trust you didn't burn your monograph on Sire Campeador as you once threatened."

"Ahem..." The tone of his former mentor revealed to Tu Chong that the laughter had drained from his voice. "That piece cost me my rectorship, smeared my reputation, and robbed me of my accredit... well, no need to rehearse this story again." There was a heavy sigh. "No, I didn't burn it."

"As far as I recall..." He was stepping onto thin ice here, but the blinding idea couldn't be kept quiet, and Hyungang continued. "You worked with Terry Anderson when he wrote his widely acclaimed trilogy: 'The True Ruler'... You consulted him on the early twelfth century."

"He mucked everything up!"

"I know."

"For the sake of plot, he upended everything!"

"I remember."

"He distorted the very spirit of the era!"

"I'm aware of that."

"To gain approval from the ruling House of Milan, he portrayed their ancestors as saints! Virtuous beings! While they were actual monsters!"

"You're exaggerating, Master."

"He! He!.."

"He masterfully twisted everything."

"Yes! I won't argue with that." This man always had the capacity to acknowledge others' talents, regardless of his personal sentiments towards them.

"Master, will you do your unfortunate student a favor?"

"Is that why my heel's itching and my back's aching? Huh?! It's probably because you're about to ask an old man for something he's not going to like at all..."

"Please send all monograph materials, including drafts, to Mr. Anderson."

"Uh-uh..."

"Only first, remove all accurate descriptions of the Second Sword. Completely erase them."

"Hm-m-m-m... But who saw it anyway? You, me, and those couple of janitors who always roam the vaults of the Royal Museum of Aragon!"

"I beg you."

"I'd say 'no' to the student. But to the abbot of the Abode of Knowledge, I can only respond 'yes.'" After these words, a series of beeps sounded through the receiver.

It could have been worse, much worse. As for the displeasure of the old mentor - that was something he would somehow endure.

To dial the next number, Tu Chong had to rake through the depths of his memory.

"What the..." After a series of long beeps, an answer finally came. "Who is it at this hour?!" The voice on the other end belonged to a man evidently in a state far from sobriety. "Speak up! And God help you if you called to sell me some junk! I'll track you down and..."

"Have you tried not to drink for even a single day in the two years since we last met?"

"What?! Who are you to... Oh..." The voice on the receiver quickly regained its composure. "Ahem... Master Chong?"

"I see your memory is still functioning."

"Just give me a sec!" Judging by the thud, the phone was placed somewhere. Footsteps followed, then the sound of running water.

The abbot waited patiently.

"Master, to what do I owe your call?" The voice returned a few minutes later.

"How is your crisis?"

Terry Anderson was a fantastic writer. A rare talent. His debut novel caused a sensation among everyday readers, although critics found fault with it. His next work met a similar reception. Then it happened again, and again. Eventually, he capitulated and decided to write a propaganda-infused historical novel. Fame, respect, accolades, and awards came pouring in. Yet rather than rejoicing, Terry felt as though he'd sold his gift. His realization compounded with a bout of writer's block, leading him to believe he had forever lost his muse due to his sell-out. Two years ago, Hyungang tried to help Anderson out of his slump, but to no avail. The writer had sunk too deeply in his own estimation.

The monk was not at all surprised by the brief answer to his question:

"I drink..."

"No stories?"

"All garbage! Nonsense! Populism and... I quit! I have enough money to drink for a century! I'm not writing... I won't write anymore..."

"What about reading?"

"Who? These sell-outs like me, who consider themselves writers? Authors?!! Mass producing drivel? Those who value a critic's opinion more than the average reader? They're factory workers!" The last words were spat out with contempt.

"No, not them."

"I only read bottle labels! And even then, I only make it as far as the line indicating the alcohol content..."

"You will receive some material. Just take a look."

"I'll glance at it, but even all my respect for you doesn't guarantee I'll read beyond the title page."

"That's all I ask for. May your muse find her way back to you..."

This time it was Tu Chong himself who ended the conversation. And as soon as he hung up the phone, it hit him.

It enveloped him...

The world spun before his eyes, and he saw:

Bookshelves...

Huge queues that people joined before dawn...

A book cover...

A title...

"Undefeated!"...

And a date on a billboard just two and a half months away.

Before he had time to emerge from this vision, a black arrow of Premonition pierced his heart.

He...

He wouldn't see it...

By that date, he would be... or rather, he wouldn't be...

He was going to die.

The how and why were unclear, but he had never before been granted such a lucid and definitive glimpse of the future, which meant it must be true. His life was drawing to a close.

Perhaps his death would be a consequence of his recent actions, or perhaps it would come for some other reason - that remained hidden to him.

A fleeting impulse to call back and undo everything was swiftly subdued by sheer willpower. Who better than a Maker to understand that death is far from the end? Fear was not a price he was willing to pay for such a tale! Even though he was not destined to witness its conclusion, the mere fact that he had played a part in such an event was justification enough...

To return after so many centuries!

To retain your memory!

Your intellect!

And your extraordinary swordsmanship!

His idol, having materialized in the flesh, did not disappoint Tu Chong. So too, the Maker would not stray from his chosen Path.

The Path he now saw was clearer than ever.

He had made his decision and, solidifying it, his lips murmured almost inaudibly:

"I won't disappoint you, Sire Campeador - The Last King of Men!"

[1] TLN: There is a saying that if a familiar person fails to recognize you, it suggests that you will soon become wealthy.