The ocean of knowledge had long been guiding humanity since its earliest days. The first humans who discovered it saw sparks—flames born from wood and stone striking together against the cold night. They gained fragments of insight into animal behavior, using these fragments to hunt, travel, and thrive. This discovery propelled humanity to dominate the continent Kale stood on now.
Kale listened intently as Elder Myrra delivered her lecture in the first dojo. Around him, a handful of disciples sat quietly, their eyes fixed on the elder. Her voice carried authority, yet there was warmth in her tone—a teacher eager to share wisdom with those willing to learn.
"Some insights," she began, "are permanent, while others are temporary. Let me give you an example." She paused, scanning the room before continuing. "Look at farmers. Almost all of them know how to plant suitable crops for each season. Can anyone tell me why?"
A disciple raised his hand hesitantly. "Farmers use the Shallows for benefits on their land, gaining basic knowledge of farming techniques."
Elder Myrra nodded approvingly. "Correct. Knowledge like this—farming—is permanent. It can be used indefinitely because it becomes ingrained through practice and repetition."
Another disciple raised their hand, curiosity gleaming in their eyes. "Elder, aren't all forms of knowledge simply stored in our minds? Why do some fade?"
The elder smiled faintly. "Good question, young seeker. Not all knowledge is permanent. For instance, consider storms or droughts. A farmer might dive into the Shallows not to master farming but to gain insight into coming weather patterns—to prepare for floods, droughts, or harsh winds. Such knowledge is fleeting; it serves only until the event passes."
"But Elder Myrra," another youth interjected, "storms and droughts are natural cycles. Surely they'll return eventually. Doesn't that make such knowledge permanent?"
She nodded thoughtfully. "You're correct—they are forces of nature. But here's the catch: farmers aren't ordinary people. Their mastery over certain fragments allows them to anchor themselves within the Shallows. And that brings us to the heart of today's lesson: anchors."
The room fell silent. Kale straightened slightly, recognizing the weight behind her words. He felt a flicker of anticipation—he knew where this was heading.
"The Shallows consist of threads, motes, swirls, and orbs of light," Elder Myrra explained, gesturing with her hands as if painting the image in the air. "Seekers use these elements to keep themselves 'close' to the Ocean. By doing so, they create anchors—points of stability that tether them to specific insights. These anchors make it easier to access the Shallows later without being overwhelmed by its boundless expanse."
She paused, letting her words sink in. "Picture your first experience diving into the Ocean—it's like a distant dream, blurry and indistinct. But as you complete fragments of knowledge—whether it's swordsmanship, alchemy, or survival skills—those fragments solidify into anchors. They ensure you don't lose yourself in the currents of the Ocean forever."
•---•
Kale sat motionless, absorbing every word. Yet, confusion churned beneath his calm exterior.
But then, a realization sparked within him, followed by excitement. If mastery was the key to anchoring himself firmly in the threads, motes, and swirls, then Kale resolved to pursue it relentlessly. Mastery meant freedom—the ability to explore the world, uncover its secrets, and claim everything it offered.
He smiled faintly, his chest swelling with determination.
If the Ocean demanded payment, he would gladly pay it. If the path required sacrifice, he would endure it.
Because Kale wanted to know everything.
And nothing—not pain, not fear, not even the enormity of the task ahead—would stop him.