Chapter 62: Psionic Initiation (Part 2)
The two of them left the brewery bulkheads and trekked down a series of auxiliary service pipes. They found a pitch-black corner, shielded from stray eyes and industrial noise. Kian flicked on a high-lumen tactical flashlight, propping it against a rusted pipe to provide a sterile, white pool of light.
He sat cross-legged on the cold plasteel floor. "Alright, Silentium. You've got the floor. How do I start pulling the threads?"
"First," the Psyker said, looking unusually serious. "Eat the Sanctified Ration. Both of us. The Beyond is a sea of sharks. If you intend to splash around in the water, you must first coat your soul in the Emperor's light, or the Never-born will see you as a feast."
Kian obeyed, popping a Holy Wafer into his mouth. Silentium did the same, his expression shifting into one of blissful calm as the Warp-static in his head died down.
"Step one," Silentium began, "is attraction. You must draw the energy of the Immaterium to the periphery of your soul. Your spirit acts as the filter—the bridge. You pull the energy into your soul, channel it through your meat-body, and then manifest it in the physical world."
"And how exactly do I 'pull' energy I can't even see?" Kian asked.
"You remember the last time? When your awareness slipped into the Beyond? You saw the two worlds at once."
Kian nodded. He remembered the dual-vision—the grey reality of the Hive overlaid with the churning, bioluminescent madness of the Warp. It had been like wearing two sets of goggles at once.
"I can't get back there on my own," Kian admitted. "I don't have the 'internal sight' yet."
In the logic of the Imperium, this was the moment of Foundation Establishment. If you could see the Warp, you were a Psyker. If you couldn't, you were just a 'Blank' or a commoner.
Silentium reached out, his cold, bony fingers pressing against Kian's forehead. "It is expected. Your soul is still nascent. You have not yet learned to open the third eye. When I was young, I only saw the Beyond in my nightmares, or when a Daemon reached through to whisper to me. But as I grew, my soul hardened. I learned to peer through the veil at will."
The Psyker's eyes turned a milky white. "Release your mind, Master Voss. I will guide you in. I will pull your spirit from its cage."
Kian felt a sudden, sharp tug. It wasn't physical; it was as if someone had grabbed his very essence with a pair of pliers and yanked.
"Do not fight it," Silentium's voice echoed in his head. "Feel the transition. Memorize the path from the meat to the light."
The white light of the flashlight vanished. Kian was suddenly standing in a swirling vortex of purple and indigo mists. He could see his body sitting below him—a solid, grey statue in a world of shifting colors. Then, just as quickly, Silentium shoved him back in. Reality snapped back into focus.
Kian gasped, his lungs burning. He checked his System:
[COGITATOR UPDATE]
Warp Resistance: +1
Psionic Proficiency: +1
"Again!" Kian demanded, his eyes wide. "Keep doing it!"
Silentium nodded, his fingers never leaving Kian's brow. He yanked Kian's soul out, held it in the Warp for a few seconds, then slammed it back.
"Again!"
"Once more!"
"Keep the cycle going, Silentium! Push it!"
Their souls flickered in the Immaterium like a golden strobe light. Because they had both consumed the Sanctified Rations, they glowed with a brilliant, solar-gold aura. To the denizens of the Warp, they looked like a pulsing lighthouse in a storm.
Several "Warp-Vermin"—minor Daemons resembling multi-eyed eels—sensed the light and rushed forward, jaws agape. They tried to take a bite out of Kian's spirit-fire.
Sizzle.
The moment their ethereal teeth touched the golden aura, they let out shrieks of agonizing pain. The "Emperor's Blessing" wasn't just a shield; it was a soul-scorch. To a Daemon, the Emperor's light was like white-hot iron against soft skin. Unlike physical wounds, which a Daemon can regenerate, "Holy" burns were permanent. They rotted the Daemon's essence.
The survivors of the first "bite" vanished into the darkness, howling in terror. The other wild Daemons lurking in the shadows took note: These two are made of fire. Do not touch.
Back in the physical world, Silentium pulled his hand away, sweat pouring down his scarred face. "I... I can't... I am drained. My head spins. Have you found the thread?"
Kian closed his eyes. He focused on the sensation of the "Tug." He reached out with his mind, not with his muscles, and pushed.
The world blurred. The light of the flashlight turned into a hazy orb. The walls of the pipe became transparent, revealing the churning energy of the Empyrean beyond. He had done it. He had opened his Third Eye.
Kian checked his stats. After dozens of "soul-trips," his numbers had exploded.
[COGITATOR STATUS]
Warp Resistance: 55
Psionic Proficiency: 55
Note: You can now draw raw energy from the Sea of Souls.
Kian opened his eyes and raised his hand. A crackle of purple static danced across his fingertips—raw, unfiltered Warp energy.
Silentium stared in pure shock. "Master... I only showed you the way a few dozen times. Most apprentices spend years just learning to see the mist. You... you are a natural conduit."
Kian grinned, feeling a surge of power. "The 'System' is a hell of a drug, kid. Now, teach me the good stuff. Show me how to break the rules."
Silentium reached into his pouch and pulled out a heavy metal screw. He held it in his palm, and without touching it, the screw began to levitate. It hung in the center of the white light, rotating slowly.
"This is Gravity Manipulation," Silentium whispered. "My favorite tool. The secret isn't in 'pushing' the object with your mind. That is for children."
He leaned in. "The secret is to find the object's 'Shadow' in the Beyond. Every item has a weight—a rule it must obey. This screw 'must' stay on the floor because the world says so. In the Warp, we rewrite that rule. We tell the universe that for this screw, the floor is 'up.'
"Try it, Master Voss. Rewrite the destiny of the iron."
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