Kale sat cross-legged on the cold, hard floor of his small living quarters, his mind ablaze with determination. Tomorrow marked the start of the Mist Festival, and no group would take him in—he was the infamous Empty Vessel after all. But tonight, that would begin to change. Closing his eyes, he reached for the familiar pull of the Ocean of Knowledge, letting it draw him into its boundless expanse.
When he "opened" his eyes, he found himself standing within the pristine golden realm once more. It was breathtaking—motes danced like fireflies, swirls of pure knowledge drifted lazily through the air, and threads of golden light stretched endlessly like rivers of light. This was where he would build his foundation. Magic could wait; first, he needed practical insights to survive the misty forest below the sect's mountain.
Focusing intently, Kale willed the Ocean to bring him knowledge related to navigation. A glowing ball of golden light hovered toward him, pulsing softly as if beckoning him closer. He reached out and touched it, and instantly, information flooded his mind—how to read wind direction, listen for the faint sound of running water, identify animal tracks, and spot edible herbs hidden among the underbrush.
"Aghh, damn… that hurt," Kale muttered, clutching his head. So this was the price of accessing the Ocean—a sharp, searing pain that felt like his brain was being squeezed in a vice. "Not too bad, I guess. Just a headache. Still, I wonder how much worse it gets when you dive deeper…" Shaking off the discomfort, he pressed on. Survival skills were only part of what he needed. Next came combat.
Another surge of intent pulled at the Ocean, and another ball of light appeared before him. When he touched it, the pain returned, sharper this time, as knowledge surged into his body. His muscles twitched involuntarily, as though they were remembering movements long forgotten. Stances, breathing techniques, pinpointing weaknesses in both people and beasts—all of it flowed into him like an unrelenting tide.
"Ouchhh, dammit!" Kale groaned, gritting his teeth against the throbbing ache in his skull. The process was agonizing, but he couldn't stop now. There was one last thing he needed: weapon mastery.
Reaching out again, Kale focused on finding insight into wielding a weapon. Several motes and balls of light floated toward him, each offering knowledge tied to a different type of weapon—swords, daggers, bows, axes. After a moment of deliberation, he chose a spear. Medium range, versatile, and suited to his preference. As he absorbed the knowledge, he felt the weight of the weapon in his hands, even though none existed yet. Techniques for thrusts, sweeps, parries, and counters filled his mind, along with the understanding that while the insight gave him the basics, true mastery required practice.
The pain settled slowly, leaving behind a dull ache. With a deep breath, Kale withdrew from the Ocean, opening his physical eyes to the dim confines of his room. Despite the lingering discomfort, he felt a sense of accomplishment. Now wasn't the time to rest, though—the night was perfect for training, and almost everyone else was asleep.
Grabbing a makeshift wooden pole from the corner of his quarters, Kale made his way quietly to the courtyard. Under the pale light of the moon, he began practicing what he'd learned. Each stance, each movement felt awkward at first, his body struggling to keep up with the knowledge implanted in his mind. But he persisted, driving himself forward with sheer willpower.
Spear in hand, he practiced thrusts and sweeps, focusing on maintaining proper form and breathing rhythm. Every misstep frustrated him, but he reminded himself why he was doing this—to survive, to prove himself, and to escape the suffocating disdain of those who had labeled him worthless. If he didn't grow stronger, sooner or later someone might decide to make sure he disappeared for good.
As the hours passed, exhaustion crept into his limbs, but Kale refused to stop. By the time dawn approached, sweat soaked his robes, and his arms trembled with fatigue. Yet, he stood tall, gripping the spear firmly. For the first time, he felt ready—or at least, as ready as he could be.
Tomorrow, the real test would begin.