The Emperor’s Angel of Death

For a psionicist, the recovery after each meditation is not so much awakening as rebirth.

It has always been like this. After being in a trance, Melissa Springer always allows subtle perceptions and concepts to be freed from her attention, moving her thinking from the inner realm to the outer world, that is, tradition. The field of perception and thought.

She returned to her physical self, like an eagle returning to her nest, breathing in the fragrance of honey, enjoying the slow trickle of her body's perception, feeling like blood flowing through a hungry artery.

In the psionic school, she learned to call it the gift of the father: a brief warmth and satisfaction after divination meditation, like a personal reward from the emperor.

She lets it infuse each limb, bends her toes and arches her back.

The acolyte tutor taught-enjoy every moment of it.

After all, only one aspect of psychic sensing can confirm the word "talent", and all other aspects are more equivalent to a curse.

The Father's gift will not last. It will disappear in a very short time. At that unpleasant moment, all the strong memories of the trance will rush into the heart and drown her.

After that, she opened her eyes and focused on a dim candle in the center of the divination ring, breaking through the mud of memories.

Her first thought was this: something came out of one end of the curtain.

The meditation room is very simple.

The four rock walls arch over the head to form a crude dome, with a bronze needle in the center: the conduction point of the astral body.

But her past meditation room was not like that, but the scriptures painted with gold, silver and marble on each wall disappeared, the abstract star chart and the spell on the dome of the fortune-teller disappeared, the buzzing incense The huge twisted frame of the skull also disappeared.

She had been very moisturized on Tyra, and this simple cube was far from what she expected. Considering the indifference shown by her new owner towards her, she thought she should be grateful for everything, but Still... there is a limit.

A shriveled machine prodded her shoulder with a stunted limb, while a pale eye trembled convulsively.

It tried to speak, but the nails with runes on its lips and chin only made him gurgle moist, while a long string of water shook from its chin.

On Tyra, her meditation awakening is taken care of by living servants. Although the tongues of the smooth-skinned subordinates have been removed, and each eye has been nailed to the ownership mark, they are still alive, knowing that When she was tired, she quickly wiped off her sweat, massaged her shoulders, and cordially recorded any insights from meditation on the scented parchment.

In Tyra, her meditation room was crowded with locust-like automatons with emerald green eyes, ruby-colored chin, and colored streamers of psychoactive pheromones dripping behind them like musk.

In Tyra, there are more than a dozen meditators only to explain her hallucinations.

In Tyra, the majesty of her residence matches the scenery of the central attic. In the gap of the mission, she can spend a few hours gazing at the distant mountains.

In Tyra, her family can rely on art and money to show their influence.

Therefore, her current situation is somewhat uncomfortable.

Here, the one-armed man, the machine with a technical pen and a stuffy nose is the best machine the judge can provide.

It poked her again, leaving a stupid streak of ink on her bare skin, then looked away and rolled his eyes.

Above it, a malfunctioning servo drone was moving wildly on the ceiling, exuding a cheap fragrance, and then it slammed into the wall depressingly, and Melissa found herself counting unconsciously—a little bit. , A moment... like a plastic heart beating.

Here, anything can distract her from memories.

The father's gift has passed, this dreary little room has nothing to do with it, and the increasing pressure behind her eyes cannot be contained forever.

Melissa sighed, put a simple robe on her shoulders, clenched her chin, pinched out the candles, focused on the details of meditation, her mind was still blazing.

"record."

She waved to the order, and the servant straightened up immediately, stopped the stylus on a wobbly divination slab, and made a ready sound.

"Next is the narrative."

She rolled her eyes, ignoring the murmurs of her servants' joints.

"In the name of the emperor, the chief predictor of the Inquisitor Lennart Meyerstus is arranging the stars in the imperial world, serving the most blessed court of justice, and being loyal to the golden throne. I prove with my soul The source of this account, and swear that it is true—otherwise my master will judge me.”

After speaking, she took a deep breath, shivering in the cold air.

"Bless his throne and reign, praise the emperor!"

She watched as the servant scribbled the inscription with a mechanical twitch, rolling the data pad to a clean line.

She took a moment to calm herself down, pursed her lips, and then continued.

"The third time, referring to the previous record, the meditation started with... a high degree of perception."

She closed her eyes, thinking of the cold, the abyss widening in all directions, that kind of vain dizziness, frost condensed on her skin.

As a trained psionicist, her power is called the "eye of vision", which is a kind of prophecy that favors short-term accurate perception. Usually such power is used in the astral army for the strategic deployment of generals. Do support.

She was immersed in her memories, and continued to speak, using the skills she had been taught since she was a child.

"I... I feel like I'm standing on a very high place... The ground around me collapsed, like on a lonely mountain. Except... a mountain made of metal, I can't see anything. , There are too many colors, but I know that if I go too far in any direction, I will fall... www.wuxiaspot.com~ It is dim and dark, I can't see anything, but... I know what is there, I can feel it, there is a moment of fear, but..."

She laughed dryly, with a certain pride.

"... Although today, I didn't vomit for the first time."

Afterwards, she continued to narrate in a formal tone.

"Something is approaching, passing through the curtain and ice. Although I am scared, I still stand still..."

She bit her lip, her eyes soaking.

"Maybe I am more afraid of falling than being afraid of approaching, I...I don't know. In the previous meditation state, I have already woke up at this time, and my efforts to know more details have been frustrated. Today I... persisted, and I'm sure I caught a glimpse of... the existence in the shadows. I haven't discovered until now that it seems to be myself."

She looked up and realized how ridiculous it sounded.

Even if the pilot had any insight, he would not show it, just as before, waiting for her next word.