Translator: CinderTL
The mind flayer's cold, contemptuous gaze flickered with an imperceptible hesitation the moment the flames erupted.
Its highly developed mental perception allowed it to "discern" the true nature of this fire more clearly than any other living being.
An attack on the conscious level?
Or a mental illusion?
The tricks of a lesser being...
Before the thought could even fully form, the flame at Roland's fingertips surged violently, transforming into a searing orange-red fireball. It shot straight at the mind flayer's forehead, carrying an astonishing amount of heat.
However, the moment it touched the creature's slimy skin, the expected explosion never came.
There was no sizzling sound of burning flesh, no smell of scorched skin.
The searing orange-red hue abruptly vanished. The fireball transformed into a wisp of icy, pale-white flame, slipping silently into the mind flayer's skull like a ghost finding a crack, or a drop of water soaking into a sponge.
At first, the mind flayer showed no reaction. Its tentacles even curled slightly in a mocking gesture.
But in the next second, its massive, twisted body shuddered violently.
This was no physical impact, but a violent tremor emanating from the deepest, most core part of its consciousness.
The eyes, once filled only with cold darkness, suddenly constricted.
"Ugh..."
A stifled, abrupt sound—completely different from its previous affected tone—squeezed out from between its tentacles.
This was not physical pain.
Or rather, compared to this, the agony of iron chains piercing flesh was as insignificant as a mosquito bite.
This was...
The burning of consciousness, the torture of a soul being roasted under some absolute principle.
The Ember of Original Sin did not ignite matter, but the "Karmic Debt" borne by its very existence.
The mind flayer's racial arrogance, rooted deep within its soul, which viewed all things as food and slaves.
The cold will that had devoured and assimilated countless civilizations, turning trillions of sentient beings into sustenance.
And every act of enslavement, every massacre this individual had committed over its long life...
All these "original sins," beyond the judgment of any mortal law or morality, now became the most real fuel, igniting a towering inferno within the sea of its consciousness.
"No... what is this thing...?"
For the first time, the mind flayer's voice lost all its composure, becoming shrill and distorted.
Its tentacles no longer swayed with elegant grace but spasmed and curled in agony, thrashing wildly against its own body and the chains, spraying dark purple droplets of blood.
The once-proud, transcendent rational mind was now being forcibly torn apart and incinerated by an overwhelmingly brutal force.
Every cold-blooded decision, every judgment that had treated other sentient beings as mere tools, now transformed into the venomous fire of backlash, searing every node of its consciousness.
"Stop... stop..."
Its words began to fracture, laced with an unbelievable terror.
The haughty demeanor it had once held vanished completely, replaced by the desperate struggle of a cornered beast.
"Despicable human..."
But Roland ignored its screams. He merely gazed at the mind flayer's wretched state and slowly exhaled.
"Fortunately, this mind flayer's strength is already less than a tenth of its original power. Otherwise, the might of [Fire Arrow] alone would hardly have achieved such an effect..."
As he pondered, the searing flames seemed to burn without end, sinking deeper and deeper.
The mind flayer unleashed an inhuman, spiritual shriek. Though silent, it made the very air in the cave tremble.
Beneath its slick skin, countless pale flames flickered, illuminating the collapse unfolding within.
"Ah!"
Finally, a piercing, excruciating scream erupted.
It could no longer maintain any shred of dignity. Its massive body writhed frantically within the shackles, trying to escape the omnipresent Fire of Judgment consuming it from the inside.
"Take it away! Take it away now!"
Its voice was filled with pure, unmasked agony and terror.
"I command you! Lowly human! I comm—"
The threat was cut short by an even more intense surge of pain, dissolving into broken sobs.
The eyes that had once looked down upon Roland were now bloodshot and...
...filled with an emotion called "pleading."
For a mind flayer, this was an almost unimaginable humiliation.
"Ple... please..."
The hoarse voice faded, trembling with a heart-stopping quiver.
"Stop this flame... I... I can tell you... tell you everything..."
It even tried to lower its tentacle-covered head.
A gesture of complete surrender.
"Knowledge... power... the secrets of psionic energy... I'll give you all of it! Everything! Just... make it stop!!"
Its former arrogance and coldness had completely collapsed under the [Ember of Original Sin]'s judgment of the soul, leaving only the most primal, most humble wail.
This intense contrast was enough to make any onlooker feel a deep-seated shock, and...
A sliver of pleasure.
Roland was no exception.
He suppressed the almost imperceptible curve of his lips, took a deep breath to steady his mind, and then stepped forward, looking down at the mind flayer curled in agony.
"Then, from now on, I ask, you answer."
Under the continuous searing of the pale flames, the mind flayer's mental defenses had completely crumbled.
Curled within its shackles, it began to stammer out the core knowledge of psionic energy's essence and its fundamental applications.
For Roland, whose mental attribute was already exceptionally high, this abstruse knowledge was like a key, instantly unlocking the door to a power he had long struggled to access.
He focused his mind to memorize the information, then took a few steps back to an open area of the cave and closed his eyes.
Just as the mind flayer had described, he sensed the psionic flow—that current flowing on the threshold between consciousness and matter—with almost no effort.
It was like a gentle stream, gathering and circulating within his body under his will's guidance, then obediently releasing itself.
Five attempts, five successes.
A faint, silver-white glow flickered at his fingertips, the process as natural as breathing.
Successfully channeled and released Pure Psionic power 5/5
However, the final step—using psionic energy to interfere with physical matter—became a massive barrier standing before him.
He locked his gaze on an unremarkable pebble on the ground.
This time, he needed to transform the invisible psionic energy into tangible "force."
On his first attempt, he mobilized the psionic energy, imagining an invisible hand pushing against the pebble.
Psionic energy surged forth, but it was as if it had struck an invisible wall, dissipating violently before even touching the pebble. The pebble remained utterly still.
The massive drain on his mental power brought a wave of slight dizziness.
For the second attempt, he changed his strategy, trying to "wrap" the pebble in psionic energy and "lift" it.
His consciousness was intensely focused, veins bulging at his temples. The pebble trembled violently, as if it would soar off the ground at any moment, but ultimately fell back to its original position in vain.
A sharp pain from mental exhaustion shot through his temples.
A third time, a fourth...
He continuously varied his techniques of exertion and modes of visualization. Each time, he felt he was just a hair's breadth away, yet always failed at the critical moment.
Sweat soaked his hairline, and his breathing grew heavy.
This feeling of seeing the goal but being unable to reach it was more frustrating than pure ignorance.
He could feel his own vast mental power being rapidly depleted, like pouring water onto a sieve—the efficiency was depressingly low.
The mind flayer seemed to sense his predicament, letting out intermittent sneers between its spasms of agony, though the laughter was quickly replaced by wails once more.
Roland ignored it.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and forced down the restlessness in his heart.
Recalling the mind flayer's cold explanation that "will is reality," he stopped trying to "push" or "lift." Instead, he concentrated all his spirit on a single, simplest, and purest thought.
Move.
He no longer treated psionic energy as an external tool, but as a direct extension of his own will.
All distracting thoughts were cast aside. In his mind, only the pebble remained, along with an unquestionable command.
Vrum!
It felt as if a string in his consciousness had been plucked, vibrating with an unprecedented resonance.
This time, there was no resistance.
He "felt" his invisible "hand" finally make solid contact with the pebble, applying a tiny but precise force.
Under his focused gaze, the dormant pebble rolled half a turn—slight, but undeniable.
[Interfering with physical matter using psionic energy 1/1]
"It worked!"
Looking at the text that appeared in his field of vision, Roland took a deep breath and silently thought:
"Class: [Psion]."
(End of the Chapter)
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