"Finally," Kale muttered under his breath as he traced a finger along the spine of the dusty book. "About time something went my way."
He didn't sleep a wink that night. His mind was ablaze with thoughts of the Ocean of Knowledge, its golden threads and shimmering motes lingering in his vision like an unshakable dream. It had finally found him—after years of rejection, mockery, and despair—and now it felt as though the universe itself had turned its gaze upon him. For once, he wasn't invisible. And for once, he had a chance.
Maybe this is it, he thought, glancing around the empty library to make sure no one was listening. My ticket out of… well, this. He gestured vaguely at the room, though he meant more than just the cobwebbed corners and forgotten shelves. He meant the ridicule, the loneliness, the constant feeling of being less-than.
"But first," he murmured, flipping through the brittle pages of 'Introduction to the Ocean of Knowledge,' "I need to get stronger. Strong enough to shut them up for good."
As dawn broke over the Mist Veil Mountain Range, Kale rose quietly from his rooftop perch and made his way through the sect's winding cobblestone paths. The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and pine needles. The buildings around him loomed tall and foreboding, their stone walls covered in moss and ivy. To Kale, they always seemed… alive, almost menacing, as if they were watching him too.
"Three dojos," he muttered to himself as he passed by the first one, where initiates practiced basic techniques. "And I'm stuck scraping the bottom of the barrel."
He scowled at the sound of laughter drifting from inside—the same disciples who'd mocked him yesterday were likely showing off again. He clenched his fists but kept walking. Today wasn't about them. Today was about him. Higher up the mountain lay the second dojo, reserved for those newly introduced to the Deep Currents. These seekers dabbled in magic, crafting spells, forging artifacts, and brewing potions with extraordinary effects. Their abilities set them apart, earning them admiration—and envy—from lower-ranked members. Kale had often watched them train from afar, marveling at their feats while feeling a pang of resentment for what he couldn't achieve.
"And then there's the third dojo," he said aloud, squinting at the distant structure perched near the summit. "The big leagues. The untouchables."
He snorted derisively. Like I'll ever see the inside of that place. But today, Kale wasn't heading to any of the dojos. Instead, he walked toward the library—a modest yet ancient building tucked away behind rows of gnarled trees. Its wooden doors creaked softly as he pushed them open, revealing shelves lined with dusty tomes and scrolls. Few sect members visited the library regularly; most preferred direct instruction from elders or hands-on practice in the dojos. That suited Kale perfectly—he wanted to avoid drawing attention, especially from those who bullied him daily in the first dojo.
"Let's see what you've got," he murmured, scanning the shelves methodically until he found what he was looking for: a worn book titled 'Introduction to the Ocean of Knowledge'. Settling into a corner, he opened it cautiously, brushing off a thin layer of dust. The initial pages reiterated what he already knew—the Ocean was a boundless expanse of golden light, composed of threads, motes, and swirls, accessible through focus and intent. Yet, some parts differed subtly from Elder Myrra's teachings. Intriguing.
One passage caught his eye: "All humans possess the potential to access the Ocean of Knowledge, provided they cultivate sufficient focus and intent."
Kale frowned. "If everyone's got the potential, then why did it take me fifteen years to even feel it?" He tapped the page absently, his brow furrowing. What's so special—or messed up—about me?
Another section sparked his interest: "With determination and willpower, some individuals can transcend their current limitations, accessing deeper layers of the Ocean despite having only mastered the Shallows."
Yes, he breathed, leaning forward. This is it. This is how I skip ahead. His grip tightened on the book. No more waiting around for scraps. No more begging for approval. I'll show them all—I'll force the Ocean to give me what I deserve.
Kale leaned back against the wall, clutching the book tightly. His heart raced with excitement and apprehension. He didn't know how to begin, but he resolved to try. Failure wasn't an option—not when the Ocean had finally chosen him.
"Just watch," he whispered, his voice barely audible even to himself. "They'll regret ever laughing at me."
Outside, the sun climbed higher, casting beams of light through the library's narrow windows. Kale barely noticed. All he could see were the golden streams of possibility stretching endlessly before him.