The downpour had stopped, leaving the forest damp and heavy with moisture. Kale and Alden grabbed their respective weapons as they rose to their feet, ready to continue their journey.
Kale couldn't help but notice something peculiar—motes of golden light hovered toward him, almost instinctively drawn, yet completely ignored Alden.
That's when Kale realized he wasn't normal.
Whatever his specialty was, he planned to use it to its fullest extent.
The cave entrance glistened wetly from the rain, and the mist outside had thickened noticeably, swirling like restless tentacles through the forest.
Something felt... off.
The shadows seemed deeper than they should be for morning, unnaturally so. To confirm his suspicions, Kale tugged at the familiar pull of the Ocean, activating his "active seeking" state without hesitation.
Threads and motes of golden light shimmered into view, weaving through the air around him.
His mastery of this ability had become a boon—he no longer needed to fully immerse himself in the Ocean unless he sought complete knowledge about something significant.
Peering out of the cave cautiously, Kale willed the threads near the shadows to stretch toward him, brushing against them lightly.
Information surged into his mind: Shadow wolves.
Known for their dark, shadow-veiled fur that allowed them to blend seamlessly into the gloom, these predators relied on ambush tactics rather than brute strength.
Their smaller size was an evolutionary trade-off—they sacrificed bulk for stealth, making them deadlier than ordinary wolves.
Kale glanced back at Alden, who was already peeking outside, sensing Kale's unease.
"We're not alone," Kale warned quietly. "Predators are waiting."
Both men brandished their weapons, Kale gripping his spear tightly while maintaining his active "seeking" state. He focused intently, letting the threads guide his movements.
Alden stepped forward first, surprisingly bold—or perhaps reckless—and charged straight into the shadows.
Three shadow wolves emerged suddenly, their sleek forms shifting eerily within the darkness.
Unlike typical wolves, which were large and imposing, these creatures were slightly smaller, their fur blending perfectly with the murky surroundings.
One lunged at Alden, who swung his sword defensively. The wolf dodged with unnatural agility, growling low in warning.
Kale moved quickly to join the fight.
His motions were fluid, guided by the golden threads that pulsed around him.
He blocked, dodged, and countered with precision, keeping two wolves at bay while Alden struggled with the third.
Within moments, Kale managed to wound both of his opponents, drawing blood with calculated strikes, all while remaining unscathed himself.
Alden, on the other hand, fought valiantly but less efficiently.
Though he landed several hits, each successful strike came at a cost—scratches marred his arms and legs where the wolves had slipped past his guard.
Despite his apparent skill with a blade, there was something odd about Alden's demeanor.
His stance, posture, and composure hinted at experience far beyond what a newcomer to the sect should possess.
Kale pushed the thought aside; now wasn't the time to dwell on it.
Curious, Kale's consciousness tugged at additional motes surrounding the wolves.
More fragments of knowledge flooded his mind: Their fur evolved specifically to enhance their hunting strategy—blending into shadows until prey wandered too close. This adaptation came at the expense of size, but made them more lethal.
The battle continued relentlessly.
One of Kale's remaining opponents lunged again, aiming for the nape of his neck.
Golden threads flared brightly in warning, giving him just enough time to dodge and retaliate.
With a swift thrust, his spear pierced the wolf's throat, killing it instantly.
Only one wolf remained, locked in combat with Alden.
Kale debated intervening but decided to observe for a moment longer.
He watched Alden carefully, noting how composed and efficient his movements were despite his injuries.
There was a seasoned quality to him, reminiscent of higher-ranked members from the second dojo—those well-versed in navigating the Shallows of the Ocean.
Kale frowned internally.
Why does a newcomer move like someone trained for years?
Shaking off the distraction, Kale refocused on the final wolf.
His vision filled with threads and motes, guiding every step, every swing of his spear.
In moments, the last shadow wolf fell, its lifeless body collapsing onto the damp earth.
•---•
Night fell, and both men sat exhausted beside a crackling fire.
Alden patched his wounds with herbs gathered earlier, occasionally glancing at Kale with a mix of awe and curiosity.
"You're as good as the second dojo members," Alden remarked, breaking the silence.
"How are you still in the first dojo?"
Kale shrugged nonchalantly, offering a vague excuse.
"I've gleaned insights into navigation and survival. I didn't realize my senses would translate so well to fighting."
It wasn't entirely false—but it certainly wasn't the whole truth either.
Kale couldn't risk revealing his active seeking state—not to anyone, especially not Alden.
Alden seemed satisfied with the answer, chatting happily as he tended to his injuries.
But Kale noticed the subtle shifts in Alden's expression—the fleeting moments of calculation hidden behind his cheerful facade.
Whatever Alden's true intentions were, Kale knew one thing for certain, trust was a luxury he couldn't afford.