A shapeshifter. This was logically sound: who else would be fit to meet the envoys of Retribution? The duke would never assign such tasks to mere mortals. However, this was intriguing! For the first time, I was witnessing a partial transformation; the brunette retained his human form, yet some aspects took on a beastly manifestation. I recall that such incomplete metamorphoses suggest a high degree of control over the inner beast. Meaning, this shapeshifter is, at the very least, at the warrior level, if not master. His smile radiated sheer aggression. However, what followed was beyond my anticipation. I was under the impression that what my world would typically term 'tough negotiations' were about to commence, given his evident disdain for the monks obstructing his path to Maya. But the events unfolded differently.

Without uttering a word, the shapeshifter bulldozed his way forward, disregarding the orange-clad warriors blocking his path. The monks, in turn, had no intention of backing down either. Bao's attempt to clutch the shapeshifter by the sleeve was thwarted: the latter dodged the grasp with a fluid maneuver and appeared to gently thrust the monk in the chest with an open palm. However, this seemingly gentle gesture was deceptively powerful. Bao was catapulted a few meters back and skidded across the asphalt. But recovering swiftly from the tumble, the monastic fighter instantly sprung to his feet. His partner, evidently not one for needless sentimentality, charged at the shapeshifter as soon as he struck, executing a rapid combo. In retaliation, the shapeshifter convulsed his body, a seemingly simple movement, but it was so impeccably timed that all of the monk's blows missed their mark. A brisk swing of his arm - and now Lao was sprawling on the asphalt.

Maya's hand on my arm twitched, but I prevented her from shifting into projection and gestured towards the van. Firstly, regardless of the cause of this conflict between the shapeshifters and clerics, we, as Break Knights, should maintain neutrality and refrain from intervening. Secondly, despite the apparent escalation of the situation, Zanh Kiem remained unperturbed, unlike the police. As soon as the skirmish broke out, they sprang from the car. But before they could act, they were halted by a stern shout from the second emissary of the House on the Hill:

"Stand down! Stay in your cars!" The uniformed individuals complied with this command so swiftly that it was immediately evident that they were all too relieved to obey.

While I was observing the police, Lao and Bao had successfully managed to halt the shapeshifter. Or rather, not halt, but prevent him from advancing further. Each of the monks was inferior to the shapeshifter in every aspect: speed, strength, and even skill. However, by working together, they substantially enhanced their capabilities. Consequently, the fight devolved into a stalemate. The shapeshifter could have easily reached us if he hadn't been exercising restraint. But since his plans clearly did not involve slaying the envoys of Retribution, he was bound by his actions, and the "twins" exploited this, even beginning to push the shapeshifter back.

Watching the fight unravel a mere ten paces from me, I found myself thinking that everything depicted in local cinema was utter nonsense compared to reality. The shapeshifter and the monks demonstrated such control of their bodies and mastery of combat that my eyes often struggled to keep up with their movements. And I wouldn't say the fight was a spectacle of beauty - it was rather terrifying. Here, Bao takes a hit, and I fully understand: if I were to endure something similar, I would, at the very least, spend a week in intensive care, that's if I were lucky enough not to die on the spot. Yet, the monk continued the fight without even wincing in pain, though his movements slightly slowed, and his partner stepped in to fill his place on the front line.

Realizing his progress was halted, the shapeshifter released a throaty growl, his arms elongated slightly, and his fingernails transformed into bestial claws. At that precise moment, the shapeshifter's movements became even more rapid, exceeding not just the capabilities of even the most trained individuals, but also the limits of human perception. I could no longer see his movements, only blurry flashes. I restrained the instinctual impulse to shift into the Break and prevented Maya from doing the same. Interestingly, judging by her reactions, the girl seemed to be rooting for the shapeshifter over the monks in this battle.

The new degree of metamorphosis did not secure a swift victory for the shapeshifter. The "twins" widened the gap, exchanged glances, and with a long, mournful sound, charged back into the fray. Their movements also accelerated, surpassing my ability to perceive. Following the duel of this trio became nearly impossible - my eyes struggled to catch the strikes, feints, and blocks.

Nevertheless, I remained composed because, despite all their super-speed and super-skill, I was still faster than any of them in my projection state. In truth, it was Maya that concerned me more than the unfolding duel just a few steps away. The girl had finally shaken off the amorphous state in which she had been recently. A minute ago, I would have welcomed such a change, but now it seemed more like, "why does this have to happen at the worst possible time!".

Gripping the girl's hand, I stepped on her foot. The last thing I needed was her intervention in the ongoing situation. And judging by her reaction, that's precisely what she intended to do. Maya evidently did not comprehend my hints, her lips twitched, but she didn't have time to say anything.

A clap resonated. My ears went numb from the sound, and for a moment, my body felt paralyzed. To be more accurate, it wasn't paralysis, but rather I stood as still as a statue. And it wasn't just me. The clap also affected the combatants. The fight came to an abrupt halt and did not resume, as words swiftly followed.

"Mr. Rock," Zanh Kiem said in a nonchalant and even bored tone, addressing the shapeshifter who had attacked the monks. "Miss Maya and Master Maestro are accompanying me voluntarily and with my approval."

The shapeshifter focused his gaze on the Maker, standing puffed up for a couple of seconds as if struggling to grasp the meaning of the words. Then, his eyes dimmed, and the metamorphosis receded. The one named Rock took a step back and raised his hands in a pacifying gesture; however, his face didn't betray any hint of remorse or regret. What surprised me was that the fight hadn't affected the shapeshifter in the slightest. Even his hair remained impeccably styled, let alone any evidence of bruises or other injuries, although I had seen him take substantial hits. In contrast, the "twins" looked somewhat worse for wear, adorned with bruises and scrapes. Additionally, Bao's left eye began to swell — in a minute, he would no longer be able to open it. It wasn't a fair fight, but the monks did not back down, and as I understood, they would have continued fighting despite their conditions, had it not been for the interrupting clap.

"Mr. Tunk," Zanh Kiem said, acknowledging the change in the shapeshifter's behavior and addressing the second messenger of the Castle. "I understand you're here as part of your duty. I assure you, we are not here to cause any trouble. We are here to help. We are on the same side."

"On behalf of the Duke," replied the representative of the House on the Hill. His voice was dry and formal but also resonant, featuring a slight southern accent. "I inform you. Novilter is ready to provide any assistance possible to the Third Palm."

"Let's move past the formalities," the Maker shook his head. "Time is of the essence - we arrived too late. You may accompany us. No, we don't know where," Zanh Kiem preemptively answered a question as if reading Tunk's mind. "But that's not important at the moment. We will end up where we need to be. I assure you of this."

"The Paths of the Makers..." Tunk murmured thoughtfully, acknowledging his words.

"If it makes you comfortable, then perceive it that way," Zanh Kiem said indifferently; it was clear that he had grown disinterested in the conversation. He then turned to his group and commanded, "Everyone, take your places! Esteemed Knights, have you had a change of heart?"

This question was directed at us. Before Maya, who seemed to have intended to stop and speak to Rock, could act on her intention, I pulled her towards the van. She made a move to resist, but my grip was firm.

"I…" she began.

"Wrong time!" I interrupted her, hissing the words.

Apparently, Maya trusted me because she didn't protest further. Her hand relaxed, and she followed my lead. For a split second, a thought crossed my mind: would she still trust me if I removed my helmet? Probably not. Seeing the face of Izao, that very boy in the robot T-shirt, would likely make her change her mind instantly. Damn, why am I thinking about this now?!

The beige minibus we approached seemed utterly ordinary, resembling those I was familiar with. Based on the car's appearance, it appeared to be from a rental service. This was unexpected: I had assumed a battle group from the monastery would have a specialized vehicle at their disposal. Yet here we were, facing a simple, battered car that had clearly seen tens of thousands of kilometers.

Nein was the first to slide into the seat beside the driver, but to my surprise, Rui was in the driver's seat. With a frown, the girl parked her tube near her seat and started the car. Zanh Kiem boarded next and motioned invitingly towards us. I nudged Maya forward before clambering in myself, taking the spot next to her. Last to enter were the "twins," who took up the rearmost rows of seats.

Glancing back from his spot, Nein gave a broad smile and nudged Rui's shoulder.

"And I told you, never doubt the chief's choices," he said. Rui, clad in her revealing blouse, didn't fall for the provocation, but that didn't deter Nein, who continued. "How would we all fit into your favorite 'Raver'? Do you see?"

As far as I recall, a "Raver" is a type of sports utility vehicle. Nein had a point; it would have been a tight squeeze for five people. It seemed that Zanh Kiem had anticipated or rather predicted that the group would grow following a visit to the Abode of Knowledge, which is why he chose a minibus upon arrival in Wilflaes. I didn't think Nein was making his point solely to needle his partner; his comments seemed meant for Maya and me, carrying a message about the abilities of the Makers.

It happened so that Maya and I were seated directly across from Zanh Kiem. Or, more accurately, it wasn't just happenstance. I was sure the Maker had intentionally positioned us this way.

The car's well-tuned engine idled for a full minute without us moving. The representatives from the House on the Hill had already boarded their SUVs, and we were still parked as if waiting for something.

The head of the Third Palm – I should really look up what that means – sat silently, his eyes closed, and clutched the same book of poems he had taken from the monastery. The Maker's breath was steady, and it almost seemed as though he was meditating. Everyone else was also silent. Maya and I both had many questions. Maya squirmed restlessly in her seat, but neither of us dared to interrupt Zanh Kiem, regardless of what he was doing. And it seemed that respect for the elder was keeping Maya from speaking first.

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The three-minute silence was finally broken when the Maker drew in a deep breath, opened his eyes, set the book of poetry aside, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and turned to me.

"Master Maestro, could you please turn off your ability?" he asked. I tilted my head to the side in a silent question, as though I didn't understand his request. "I promise, I won't record your aura, and the rest of us here are incapable of doing so. If you're concerned about mythical mental attacks, I can assure you that I will protect you from any subtle energy influences during our shared journey." My helmet tilted even further; he hadn't convinced me yet. Recognizing this, the high-ranking sensum continued. "We sensums see people's auras, and the stronger the Gift, the clearer this ethereal vision. But it's not something we can turn off. It's simply an additional set of senses. While you can close your eyes or cover your ears, ethereal perception cannot be shut down - it's always with us. And your ability... Let me try to explain. How long do you think you could talk with someone if they had a spotlight instead of a face, and that light not only shone in your eyes but also changed color five times per second?"

I took a few moments to process his explanation. I didn't think he was trying to trick me. Sensums of this level, especially those committed to a path of service, are above such pettiness. Judging from his behavior, my fluctuating aura was interrupting some important task, disrupting his concentration. As per Izao's memory, sensums take their words very seriously, and there are no known instances of Makers lying. The risk isn't so great, in actuality: in movies and detective stories, any sensum can track an aura, but in reality, only the most powerful have this capability. Furthermore, I'm certain that if the clerics truly wish to find me, no disguise or conspiracy will be of any help. I've become accustomed enough to this world not to entertain false illusions. True, it won't be easy, but if someone devotes enough resources and gifted individuals to the task - I will undoubtedly be found. After a swift mental assessment, I heaved a deep sigh and switched off the fluctuating aura.

"Thank you," Zanh Kiem responded instantly, rubbing his eyes in apparent relief. "You need not worry about your secret. As long as I'm around, you're safe."

With that said, the leader of the Retribution group lapsed back into silence, again cradling the volume of verses in his hands as his breathing settled into a steady, rhythmic pattern. It was fortunate that I wore a closed helmet; I had lost control over my facial expression as he emphasized the word "secret." I don't think he was referring to the secret of my true identity. Hold on, don't flinch! He's a Maker, the same rank as Tu Chong, and I doubt he sees any less than the absent raig curator. That is, as soon as I switched off the fluctuating aura, he could have discerned the two soul stones in my aura. Calm down! The clerics assuming that I'm a reincarnate is to my advantage. So, cease your worrying, breathe steadily, and don't panic. Don't panic!!!

"Maya," I turned to the girl sitting next to me, "do you know which atelier Mr. Rock gets his clothes from?"

"What?" She seemed confused by the question.

That was precisely the reaction I wanted; I needed to distract her from Zanh Kiem's words and shift her attention elsewhere.

"You saw the intensity of the fight. Didn't you notice that after it ended, Mr. Rock's suit wasn't torn, or even wrinkled?"

"Mmmm..." Maya's gaze drifted up to the minibus's ceiling. "I don't know, but I can find out if I get a chance."

"Please do," I nodded at her response.

I understood now: these two weren't mere acquaintances - Maya had a deeper connection with this representative from the Castle, considering she felt comfortable asking such questions. Was this Mr. Rock the duke's raig curator? Possibly. Probably...

"Rui!" Zanh Kiem's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Head straight east, then turn south at the third junction."

The engine roared to life, tires squealed in protest, and I was instantly pushed back into my seat. The minibus launched as though it wasn't a simple family vehicle but a bona fide sports car.

"Rui!" the Maker exclaimed with a hint of irritation. "We want the local authorities to follow us, not shake them off our tail. Temper your enthusiasm."

"As you wish, lao ban," the girl behind the wheel conceded, a tad disappointed, and the minibus immediately decelerated, seamlessly merging into the languid city traffic.

The Maker, glancing out the window, set the volume of poetry aside and looked into Maya's eyes. A slight, but somehow tired, smile touched his lips. Then, with a familiar and natural motion, almost familial, he leaned forward and untangled a curl in the girl's hair. Afterward, he said, "Don't be shy. I don't bite."

"Why!? What was the reason?" Maya blurted out at once, as if she had been eagerly awaiting permission to speak. "Why did you allow that horrific fight to happen?"

Hearing this bewildered, impetuous, yet so emotionally charged accusation, Zanh Kiem reclined in his seat and laughed. He laughed softly and non-offensively.

"It's been a while since I've had to justify myself to a sweet, pretty young girl," the Maker said, still chuckling. "Thank you for conjuring up these delightful and seemingly long-forgotten memories." His words caused Maya to blush so intensely that it spread to the roots of her hair. "No, your question wasn't inappropriate; everything's fine. And I will answer it." The sensum then stretched comfortably, seemingly enjoying this moment, and continued, "Firstly, let me clarify that the fight wasn't horrific." To validate his words, the "twins" from the back seats snickered simultaneously. "It was quite a professional fight, I'd say. But its nature isn't really important because the central question you're concerned with is 'why?'" Maya nodded briskly, not daring to interrupt the elder. "And a response of 'it was necessary' wouldn't suffice for you, right?" The girl shook her head as if she were a puppet on strings, and I had the impression that Zanh Kiem was teasing her just a little. He seemed to be delighting in this conversation, as if it truly rekindled something long lost within him. "I understand you're worried about Mr. Rock." His subsequent words were not for Maya, but for me. "But honestly speaking, if anyone deserved concern in this situation, it wasn't him but the ones sitting behind you."

The sensum fell silent, goading the girl into asking a question, and she took the bait.

"But aren't the fighters of the closed monasteries the best of the best?" Maya exclaimed, her tone tinged with indignation and disbelief.

"And your ruler employs people and shapeshifters that are anything but ordinary," Zanh Kiem retorted with a wink. "Honestly, I'm surprised that Mr. Rock hasn't mentioned to his charges that he's one of the finest duelists in Novilter, having won at least two dozen duels." The Maker's gaze took on a sharpness akin to the gleam of misericordia steel. "Duels to the death." At this, Maya, who had recently blushed, turned ashen.

It was a masterful maneuver. Within a minute's conversation, a key figure — the most influential Break Knight in the world — would never trust the curator from the House on the Hill as she once did.

Despite Novilter's authorities and the clerics ostensibly acting as allies concerning raigs, a clandestine power struggle is underway over this new, largely unexplored, yet promising "human resource". And they had just shown it to me. It was clear as daylight that this demonstration was targeted directly at me. As for using the words to sow a seed of distrust in Maya towards Mr. Rock, it was merely a pleasant bonus. Even though Zanh Kiem was speaking to the knight girl, his words were actually meant for me. So, I nodded in appreciation, and a knowing smile flickered on the Maker's lips, perceptible only to me.

"So, Miss Maya," the sensum carried on, as if nothing had transpired. "Let's just say, Mr. Rock is in a completely different 'weight' category than Bao and Lao. This pair's skills lie in a different area than physically resisting shapeshifters. Trust me: your 'friend' faced no danger... On the contrary, what transpired was beneficial for him." He paused again, but this time the girl didn't fall for the bait. Nonetheless, it didn't deter Zanh Kiem, who continued, "Alright, I understand. I will answer without allegory — directly. What happened last night, and the fact that the only remaining open Break Knight disappeared..." At this, Maya blushed intensely. "These events significantly impaired Mr. Rock's clear thinking, and his inner beast went rogue, gaining more and more control. It wouldn't be in anyone's interest — neither mine, yours, nor anyone else's, except our common enemies — if he lost control. He needed a jolt, a release, even if he and his inner circle didn't realize this. What you referred to as the 'horrible fight' served as an open valve that relieved excess tension and cooled Mr. Rock's blood. In simple terms, Lao and Bao cleared his head. Were there other solutions to this problem? Certainly, but this one was the simplest and, more importantly, the fastest, and as you can see, we're in a bit of a hurry."

The sensum suddenly fell silent, raising his hand in a gesture of pause, then rested his palm on the book and closed his eyes. After a few measured breaths, he spoke in a slightly distant tone.

"Rui! Turn left in two hundred meters. Then go straight for a kilometer and take the road heading south."

"Affirmative!" The one at the wheel responded promptly.

"So it seems..." the Maker resumed his conversation with Maya. "What might have appeared as an 'ugly fight' was in fact a session of emergency psychological assistance. Yes... And... To be honest, it didn't hurt for Lao and Bao to get beaten, either." The sensum chose to ignore the offended snorts that came from the back seats. "Some lessons retain their relevance when periodically reiterated." The snorting from the back seats promptly ceased. "And to answer the unspoken question from the Maestro..." Zanh Kiem pivoted towards me. "Why didn't Lao and Bao allow Mr. Rock to approach you? That's solely my 'mistake' as I agreed to have you accompany us, meaning you temporarily joined our group and fell under the protection of our Palm. As per field operation rules, the approach of a shapeshifter nearly losing control of his inner Beast should be preemptively considered an act of aggression. Could I have anticipated this outcome when I invited you along? That's a question I'll leave unanswered." The predatory upward curve of his lips advised against seeking further clarification. "And no, I can't read minds. I just interpret unconscious movements and gestures well. And your aura developed a distinct orange-green hue, hinting at barely contained curiosity." He shifted his gaze back to Maya. "Have I addressed your 'why'?"

"Yes," the girl-Knight replied quietly and somewhat embarrassedly.

"That's good." Zanh Kiem reclined in his chair and closed his eyes. A faint, mischievous smile played on his lips, somewhat incongruous with his age and status.