Chapter 60 The Strongest Psionic Power
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
”Mm…?”
A thin wrongness tugged me awake. With no sun I had no sense of time; the terminal said it was deep night.
Maggot-san had fallen asleep, leaning against my bed. A crease pinched between her brows. The big sis with the generous curves never once raised her voice, yet she refused to leave my side. When I stroked her hair, the line of pain on her face eased; her breaths softened, small and even. In sleep she looked almost like a girl.
While I drifted in that quiet, a knock sounded from the corridor. I answered in a whisper. The door opened without a squeak, and big sis slipped in like someone avoiding eyes.
She crossed the room with the light grace of a prince sneaking into a princess’s chamber, magic carrying her to my side. Then she leaned her back to the wall, arms folded.
Trash-san glanced at Maggot-san, face-down by my bed, and sighed—long and heavy.
”Camping out in a young man’s room… Honestly. What a hopeless woman,” she murmured.
She kept her arms crossed and looked to me.
”Good evening,” I whispered. “Back from duty?”
”Yes. I finally drew a breath. I came to collect that one,” she said, tipping her chin toward Maggot-san.
”She just fell asleep. Don’t wake her.”
”She looks very content. Truly—without the slightest sense of her place. What does she think a male’s hospital room is?”
”She was having nightmares a moment ago.”
Her expression soured as she watched Maggot-san—more bitterness than anger.
I dimmed the light, draping a shade over the lantern at my hand. The glow leaking from the red, shifting sand inside sank to a hush.
Then I asked the thing I was afraid to hear.
”How is everyone?”
It was the first time I’d faced Trash-san since my head cleared. The last time had been right before the battle began. It felt like days.
I didn’t have the face for this, but her composure helped. Anyone else among the Imperial Guard would’ve been in tears, beyond conversation.
”As you might expect, it’s a ruin,” she said. “No one slept. Everyone’s been sick with worry for the Young Master and looks like the dead.”
”Ah. Yeah. I’m sorry.”
At my thin reply, her features tightened, as if weighing whether to say more.
”Cult Slut attempted suicide,” she said.
”…What?”
I stared, then stared again.
”She decided if she became the substitute, the calamity would pass us by. We tied her down and let her cool her head,” Trash-san said, voice level.
”I— I see…”
Her methods of persuasion were… wild. I’d guessed the Imperial Guards had suffered for me, but hearing it set a weight in my chest.
Seeing them later would be hard. Their grief and hurt would be enough to rake at one’s guts. I didn’t want to touch that feeling, and I didn’t want to be forced, by touching it, to face my own recklessness. I couldn’t abandon those lives. I never wanted to make them grieve. And if not that choice—what else could I have done?
In that sense, Trash-san’s brisk manner was a relief.
”You’re calm,” I said. “That helps.”
”…,” she breathed, unreadable.
”Trash-san?”
”It’s fine,” she said. “Someone must keep their head. Now—who did this to you?”
”So I can’t talk my way around it, huh.”
”It seems you don’t grasp the situation.”
She strode toward me. I looked up, puzzled.
Then her palm cracked across my cheek.
The sound snapped through the room. The world sharpened—then slid sideways.
Heat bloomed; my cheek sang with pain. Yet reality lagged behind, as if this were happening to someone else. Was I dreaming? My own skin’s testimony felt unreliable.
My mouth hung open like an idiot’s.
”That hurt…” I muttered.
What was that? What is this? Maybe I was still under, still on a table, dreaming.
Trash-san striking me—impossible. It had to be some illusion.
”Um… what did you just do?” I asked, stupidly.
Words failed me for a stretch. I must have looked like a dull child.
Trash-san is a beautiful woman. Her clear eyes held me in a hard gaze, and slowly the edges of her face blurred.
”You don’t understand?” she asked.
”Uh…”
Sadness welled up, sudden and simple. And understanding followed it: she’d slapped me. Trash-san had struck me.
Tears gathered. The blurring was mine.
I didn’t know if it hurt, or if it hurt in a different place.
But why did she look like the one in pain?
”I’m… surprised,” I said, honestly. “There’s an Imperial Guard who strikes a male.”
”I am the most surprised of all,” she answered.
”I’ve never heard of such a thing. I still can’t believe it. If you told me it didn’t happen, I might believe you instead.”
”So would I. And I doubt another Imperial Guard like me will ever appear.”
She said it without flinching, eyes straight on mine. She looked stricken, yet her gaze was clear; I felt a kind of resolve gathering in her.
I still couldn’t believe it. My feelings lagged far behind.
”Normally, wouldn’t you be fired for that?” I asked.
”It would not end there,” she said. “I would be branded unfit to serve as Imperial Guard and barred from any post that touches a male. Without a noble family to shield me, the reasonable outcome would be imprisonment—or beheading.”
”Ugh. That includes you, Trash-san.”
So I couldn’t ask why she’d done it. Not with that look on her face.
”Does that make this a rare experience for me?” I tried, weakly.
”It does,” she said. “If you never wish to see my face again, I’ll vanish.”
”That’s not…” The rest wouldn’t come.
For someone so strict about rank to do this—unheard of. And I had driven her to it. It was like a vassal striking a princess.
”…Trash-san,” I said.
”Does the Young Master not trust us?” she asked quietly. “Are we so little to rely? This entire incident is my failure,” Trash said quietly. “I was the one who trained you to use Psionic Power. I knew how dangerous it was, and yet I didn’t stop you. Psionic Power is not a child’s toy… I should have remembered that.”
It was true — Trash was the one who awakened my Psionic Power.
But I was the one who chose to wield it again and again. I could never resent her for that.
”It’s not your fault,” I told her. “I wanted it too. And… I always rely on you.”
Her eyes darkened. “That’s exactly it. I got carried away. It felt good, being relied on by my master. I was foolish. So foolish. Just some Imperial Guard nobody, and I started to believe I was a capable teacher.”
”That’s not true,” I said softly. “You’ve always been the smartest person I know. You’ve taught me everything that mattered.”
”Then why?” Her voice broke — sharp, trembling.
I froze. Trash never raised her voice, not even when she was bleeding out in the dungeon.
”Why wouldn’t you trust your Imperial Guard?”
Her composure cracked. The weight of helplessness pressed down on her, and for once, she let the emotion spill through.
I didn’t know what to say. Watching her like this, I understood — it wasn’t anger. It was sorrow. Guilt.
”I thought I understood people,” I murmured. “But maybe that was a mistake. I thought you were… stronger than this.”
”Do you have any idea how much I worried?” she snapped, her voice trembling. “It’s always Maggot or that cult girl in your heart. You think I don’t care? You think I can just stay calm while you throw yourself away?”
Her words stung. For the first time, she sounded like a younger girl — small, frightened, trembling.
My chest tightened painfully.
She looked so fragile that I almost wanted to hold her.
That’s why I’d avoided them — the Imperial Guards. Because seeing their worry felt suffocating.
True concern is heavy. It seeps into you, wet and cold, until you can’t breathe.
And now, her grief was crawling through me too.
It was my fault. She was suffering because of me.
And I’ve always hated watching people hurt because of me.
”If you hate crying that much,” I muttered, “you shouldn’t have hit me.”
The words slipped out — selfish and small. I reached out, brushing her hair, gently resting my hand atop her head.
She was trembling still, her back looking smaller than ever. The pain in her heart reached me like a pulse, and it hurt. Her affection hurt.
Finally, Trash’s composure shattered. She could no longer play the proud big sis she always was before me.
It must have broken her — realizing I’d faked an illness and faced danger without ever trusting her.
”…I’m sorry,” I whispered. “There were reasons I couldn’t talk about.”
”Don’t apologize,” she said sharply. “The very fact you feel you must apologize means I failed. I’m a disgrace. I crossed an unforgivable line. If you truly pity me, then next time — rely on me first.”
”Trash… you’re a good girl,” I said gently.
I tried to comfort her.
Sometimes even the strongest need to set down their armor.
I rarely worried about her emotional state — maybe because I trusted her too much.
But tonight, she’d reached her limit.
Still, I had my reasons too.
If I depended on them too much, it might mean sending them to their deaths.
I could still see the faces of the Imperial Guards who died buying my escape. They never left my mind.
In this world, women protect men — and our lives do not weigh the same.
We sat there in silence, in that dim room, words lost to the heavy air between us.
It was late. Neither of us had the strength left to keep talking. Maybe sleep would be kinder.
Trash had vented enough to find her footing again, but shame lingered on her face. Her skin was pale from exhaustion; she’d been working since dawn.
She looked ready to collapse beside Maggot, who still hadn’t stirred. I didn’t dare ask how many nights she’d stayed awake.
Lines creased Maggot’s brow again, and a bead of moisture clung to her lashes.
I gently massaged the tension away, wiped the tear, and her expression softened back into calm sleep.
Honestly, we were both spent — body and soul.
Then, a stray thought rose in my mind.
”Ah, right… there’s something I wanted to ask.”
Trash paused, mid-motion, as she was about to shake Maggot awake again.
”Psionic Power,” I said. “Is it really that important?”
She blinked. “Psionic Power?”
”I mean… important enough to ruin your life over?”
The question hung in the air. She didn’t answer right away.
Maybe I should have been clearer.
I thought of Kaede and the others — their hollow eyes, their numbness.
Was failing the Skill Lottery really enough to strip them of their humanity?
They’d wandered that dungeon like ghosts who’d already given up on living.
Even setting aside the slaughter, their apathy felt wrong.
That hopelessness — that must be what Psionic Power does when it breaks the bond between master and servant.
”Your Psionic Power turned out useful,” I said. “But if someone awakened a worthless one — would that really be enough for their master to abandon them? Enough to make them hate life itself?”
Trash lowered her gaze. “…That’s a difficult question.”
She went quiet.
Maybe it sounded arrogant — a rich man’s ignorance. But I couldn’t grasp it.
Why were they so cruel to themselves and to each other?
Maybe because I hadn’t lived this world from birth, I couldn’t feel what they did.
To Kaede and the others, Psionic Power was a curse that tore them from the ones they loved — a stain that never washed off.
Trash seemed to realize whom I was talking about.
”I’ve heard such stories,” she said softly. “Of masters and servants destroyed by mismatched gifts.”
Her expression dimmed, the sorrow unmistakable.
”I see,” I murmured. “So it’s true, then.”
”My Psionic Power only looks admirable because its nature happens to fit society’s needs,” she explained. “Another woman could love her master just as deeply, yet awaken a useless one. It’s cruel, but… that’s how it is.”
Her voice was calm, but there was grief beneath it.
I sighed.
I would have loved them all the same, even if their powers were useless. Maybe I’d be a little disappointed — but not enough to change my heart.
I never judged them by strength or talent. Just will… and maybe, I’ll admit, a bit by looks.
Trash continued quietly.
”They say Psionic Power is born from a master and servant’s shared wish — the power of that bond itself. So when someone awakens a cruel or useless one, some believe it means they secretly wished for misfortune.”
”That’s… a pretty awful thought,” I said.
And the lantern light flickered — the silence between us stretching, heavy with things neither of us dared to say.
So then… did that mean Kaede and the others had hated Ichimatsu from the start?
It didn’t make sense. Watching them, you could tell they cared for their master — that they loved him in their own way. Yet to live in a world that twisted that love into suspicion… that was cruel beyond words.
The thought left me quietly deflated.
Trash noticed my expression and, as if to ease the gloom, gave a faint, teasing smile.
”Tell me, Young Master,” she asked, “what do you think is the greatest Psionic Power in existence?”
”The greatest?” I echoed. “You mean… the strongest?”
”Exactly. The most powerful one.”
I blinked. That came out of nowhere.
Still, it was a welcome change of topic — something almost childish, a breath of fantasy in all this heaviness.
The strongest ability, huh.
I’d always thought Psionic Power could do almost anything a human mind could imagine, though surely there had to be limits. It wasn’t godhood, after all — just a mystery that brushed against science.
You could conjure bread from thin air, perhaps. But a thousand loaves? Probably not.
Trash waited patiently, amusement flickering in her eyes. I grinned a little and played along.
”Let’s see… an instant death spell? Nah, that’d be boring.”
I vaguely remembered someone like that — who ended up instantly killed by a horned owl monster. Irony, I guess.
”Then maybe omniscience,” I mused. “Knowing everything the moment you think of it. Or predicting the future… or bringing back the dead.”
That already sounded less like Psionic Power and more like something stolen from the gods.
But if there were duds like Ichimatsu’s guards, surely there had to be the opposite — someone born with a miracle.
I frowned, mulling it over.
Was there truly someone out there with such a gift?
Trash tilted her head and offered a hint.
”Nothing so dangerous. Think smaller — something much closer to home, but far greater.”
”Really? You’re saying there’s something better than all that?”
”The clue,” she said, smiling, “is the opposite sex.”
I hummed thoughtfully, and she watched my confusion with a spark of mischief before finally revealing the answer.
”The strongest Psionic Power,” she declared, “is the ability to win a man’s heart. No power can surpass that.”
I stared at her. “Huh. Well… I guess you’re not wrong?”
Her grin widened, full of confidence.
It was an appealing idea, sure — but somehow unsatisfying.
”I don’t know,” I said. “It’s important, yeah, but ‘strongest’? Even if you make men like you, what if another woman just beats you up and steals him? I mean, men can be taken by force.”
And that, in this world, wasn’t even exaggeration.
The strongest women ruled, and their rule was built on violence.
Men loved the shine of that power — or the wealth it drew.
”That’s because you’re a man,” Trash replied, her voice calm. “You underestimate the worth of your own affection. Just being able to talk to you like this, without fear or disgust — you have no idea how happy that makes me.”
That caught me off guard.
I’d assumed she only cared for her research and dungeon expeditions.
”I thought you preferred delving into ruins to spending time with me,” I said lightly.
She gave a small, sincere smile. “If earning your hatred meant gaining all the mystical treasures in the world, I’d throw them away without hesitation.”
I looked at her, really looked at her — and finally understood.
So that was it.
Killing someone, gaining knowledge, conquering the world — it all came back to this.
Every strength, every ambition, ultimately traced back to the desire to be loved.
Maybe she was right.
You could murder your rival, but if the man still mourned her, what was the point?
You could unveil the secrets of creation, but if there was no one to share your warmth, it was hollow.
You could rise to godhood — but without love beside you, the summit would feel like exile.
”Even you, huh?” I murmured. “Even Trash-san thinks that way.”
Her shoulders drooped slightly. “So that’s how you see me, Young Master…”
There was sadness in her eyes.
Not that I blamed her — I was still a little guilty about that night on the Evening Calm Beach, when she’d almost chosen relics over me.
But now, I understood her heart better.
After all, Psionic Power comes from one’s deepest wish.
For a woman, stripped of all duty and pride, that wish was simple — to be loved.
Even I had once wished for something like that — a power to have all the women I desired. Before my awakening, that was the dream.
Most Imperial Guards’ powers manifest as ways to serve their master, to earn affection indirectly.
But really, wouldn’t it be easier to just manipulate that affection outright?
In the end, the strongest Psionic Power was one that trampled a man’s will — a cruel parody of love born from longing.
”In its extreme form,” Trash said quietly, “it becomes mind control. A power born of insincerity — something that should never exist.”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah. That would just be terrifying.”
”People may judge it differently,” she went on. “But at its heart, what matters is whether it brings happiness to the one you serve.”
”So what others think doesn’t matter?”
”Exactly. Psionic Power is a gift meant to help master and servant find joy together. At least… that’s what I choose to believe.”
Her words were beautiful — maybe idealistic, but genuine.
A little warmth stirred in me, lifting the gloom that had weighed on my chest.
Even if nothing was solved, it felt… lighter somehow.
Trash really was as gallant as ever.
I smiled faintly.
”Still… a power to charm men, huh? Sounds like one you already have.”
She blinked, confused.
”What?”
”You’re beautiful,” I said. “I could look at your face forever. When you’re sad, it hurts me too.”
She flushed, half exasperated, half embarrassed.
”Young Master, you really do have a dangerous tongue.”
She stayed that way — flustered but smiling — until she finally left, carrying the still-sleeping Maggot in her arms.
Her steps were lighter than before, and for once, she looked at peace.
It felt good to see her that way — my strong, proud big sis, smiling again after such a heavy night.
Notes:
• Psionic Power – Mental energy concept in Chapter 35’s lecture. Trash-san teaches it to strengthen the protagonist’s mind after dungeon ordeals.
• Kaede – A female psionic explorer known as Necksplitter, is a veteran assassin and messenger of Lord Ichimatsu. Her appearance is both young and old, with gray hair streaked through black and vibrant, unlined skin. She is graceful yet carries the fatigue of a long life in war, resembling an old hunting dog. Her psionic ability is mysterious and potentially dangerous.
• Ichimatsu – A high-ranking figure associated with the Imperial Guard, mentioned as having spineless guards around him, with no further details provided.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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