I made my way to the end of the alley and threw the flesh-and-blood sheepskin killer to the ground.

He tried to get into this alley to escape me, but it was a dead end. Because it was night, there was no lighting here, so it was so dark that I couldn't see my fingers.

The key muscles of his hands and feet were cut off by me, and his vocal cords were forcibly torn by me, so it stands to reason that he can't speak, but if he really deserves to be a psychic, as long as he still thinks he can speak, he can really speak, and at this moment he begged for mercy vaguely while bleeding blood and saliva from the corners of his mouth: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry...... Please leave me alone......"

I just took his murmuring as a deaf ear, took the flashlight out of my backpack, turned it on and put it in the corner to illuminate the dark place.

He took out a white disposable paper cup and a red utility knife, first put the paper cup on the ground, then used the utility knife to cut the palm of his right hand, and then let the blood flow into the paper cup.

After a while, I stopped the bleeding and disinfected the wound with medicine, wrapped it in a bandage, and immediately took out a brush, dipped it in the blood in a paper cup, and began to draw the pattern of the blood ritual on the ground like a street artist who paints on the ground.

In order to prevent the "paint" from running out prematurely, I had to draw as thin the lines as possible, preferably as thin as a lobster's whiskers. If it weren't for the blood ritual that required the drawing of the pattern to be the blood of me, the presiding officer, I would have poured a large bucket of the blood of the sheepskin killer and used a mop to draw the ritual pattern.

The pattern is not complicated, after the drawing, I re-checked it several times, mainly to check whether the lines are redundant or insufficient, whether they are broken from the middle, whether the straight lines are straight enough, and whether the curves are stiff.

When I was done, I looked at the face of the sheepskin killer again.

He was clearly blinded by me, but from the moment he started to seem to be able to catch my direction as I moved. I think that perhaps he lost his physical senses and was on the verge of death, which caused the perception of the soul, that is, "inspiration", to become more acute than ever.

In layman's terms, it is the so-called "eye of the heart".

But a temporary surge of inspiration is not good for anyone, and it comes with huge risks. In such a situation, it is easy for people to see things that they should not see, and the consciousness of some unlucky ghosts will even leave the "image universe" and approach the "abstract universe" because of this.

In psionics, the universe is not divided into "one-dimensional, two-dimensional, three-dimensional, and four-dimensional ......", but into "figurative universe" and "abstract universe".

The image universe refers to the "universe that can be expressed by images", and the closer things are to the image universe, the easier it is to express them in words and words, and the easier it is to measure them with physical and mathematical tools.

On the contrary, the closer to the abstract universe is, the more indescribable and measurable it becomes, full of unknowns and confusion.

Although man is a life in the image of the universe, the soul is abstract, so much so that science cannot express what a soul is.

Therefore, the more inspired people are, the easier it is to come into contact with the abstract universe, but it is also easy to be captured by the abstract universe in some incomprehensible form, or to evaporate from the world, or to fall into madness.

*

To get back to the point, it's still a matter of rituals.

If the blood sacrifice ceremony that I am going to perform is different from other blood sacrifice rituals, it may be called the "Hasta Blood Sacrifice Ritual", and the main purpose is to give a living sacrifice to the "Hasta" god who exists in other universes in exchange for the desired gift. Needless to say, all I wanted was to become a psionic with the help of Hasta.

I dragged the sheepskin killer to the center of the pattern, the ritual had to be done quickly, and now he was able to speak with his vocal cords torn, and if he was allowed to fumble a little longer, he might be able to run like a sprinter with all his limbs gone.

"Don't, don't......" He seemed to instinctively sense some kind of danger, and his plea grew stronger.

"Presumably those victims begged you like that in the past, right?" I knew he could hear me, so he said, "Did you spare them?" Or are you more inclined to let them express their fear and despair? ”

"I, I repent, I will repent...... I'll do whatever you say......" He cried in fear, but I just walked outside the pattern and watched coldly.

People who like to watch the fears of others often have their own fears, so they should use the fears of others to modify their fears so that they can appear fearless, which is the most despicable.

He's so, but I'm no better.

"Don't show that expression, don't you like to make people fearful? We're all in the same boat, and now it's my turn to torture you, and you to scream and plead...... Let's get along. ”

With that, I ignored his howl and took out my phone to confirm the prayer recorded in the memo.

Then put away your phone and start chanting:

"With my blood, with the soul of the enemy......"

The prayer is long, and I have carefully designed it with reference to some ancient blood sacrifice rituals. If I write it all, I'm afraid it will take hundreds of words, and to be honest, I'm a little embarrassed to let others read it. Although it probably doesn't apply to the gods of the other universe, I don't know how to write the prayers of the gods of the other universe, it's better than not having a reference at all.

Time passed slowly, one minute, two minutes, three minutes......

Only the hoarse howl of the sheepskin killer and my slow-speaking spell sounded, and for a moment, the space seemed to create some kind of cult ritual atmosphere.

I recited the mantra over and over again, and when I was done, I started from the beginning, and my mouth gradually became dry, but nothing unusual happened.

My heart gradually became worried, and I began to wonder if there was something wrong with me when arranging the ritual, or maybe I had lost my eyes and the blood ritual was actually a useless joke.

I recited it three more times, but it still didn't work, and the sheepskin killer seemed to be howling tired, lying in the center of the pattern.

It seemed that something really went wrong, and I had to give up reciting the prayer.

But, at that moment, I realized the anomaly.

I can't stop chanting!

My mouth seemed to be no longer my mouth, but someone else's, but it automatically continued the previous recitation process over and over again, and even my body seemed to be encased in an invisible concrete wall, unable to move.

And the moment I realized it, my voice suddenly became louder in the reciting of the prayer - which was certainly not the effect I wanted. Not only that, but even the content of the prayer has undergone an unnegligible change, with some words in language that I cannot understand.

Gradually, my throat seemed to become a malfunctioning radio, and the original prayer became incomplete, replaced by an incomprehensible prayer woven by an incomprehensible language.

The voice became hoarse and deep, and with the huge volume, it sounded like the roar of a monster, and even I felt my eardrum ach and my head was dizzy.

The patterns on the ground drawn with my blood inexplicably glowed red under my nose. This kind of light is not the same as the light I usually see. I had never seen, or even imagined, how it could have such a filthy glow, as if it were full of maggots and mold that would give birth to disease just by seeing it with my eyes.

The flesh of the sheepskin killer began to melt, like a plastic bag burned by flames, and faded away in the filthy red light, no, not so much disappearing, but in my perception it was more like being chewed and eaten by the red light.

The changes don't stop there, the scenery in my eyes has also changed horribly.

Strictly speaking, everything has not changed, the alley is still the same alley, the shape and color are the original, but I can't comfort myself with "no change", if I want to use one of the nouns I have studied in the past to describe the current situation, then only "gestalt collapse" is the most appropriate, this noun is used to summarize the experience of people staring at a word for a long time, due to the fatigue of neurons, so as to doubt the shape of the word, and feel that the word has become unfamiliar, and now this experience, It happened to everything I saw.

At this moment, my world took on a fragmented posture under the shroud of "gestalt collapse".

*

Maybe the development of the situation was too absurd, and my not smart enough brain could not digest the facts for a while, and even my fear was stuck in traffic halfway. On the contrary, in the stunned consciousness, a question suddenly flashed: the unknown author of the wild history book did not seem to talk about the "side effects" of the blood sacrifice ceremony.

The next second, I asked myself: Didn't I really talk about it?

I recall the main point of that book, yes, he said that Hasta is a god in the other universe called the "Old Ruler", whose form of existence is absolutely incomprehensible to the beings of the image universe, and whose concept of good and evil (assuming he has) is very different from that of human beings, so that he is evil to human beings in most cases, and even in a few cases, he is by no means good. He was like a man who happened to be sleeping next to an ant-nest, and the ants couldn't understand people's thoughts, and people didn't care about the ants' survival.

And there is also an incomparably bad trait of the old rulers like Him, that is, the mere sight of Him makes humans go insane and spend the rest of their lives in madness.

Even the mere arrangement of a ritual about Him can be affected by this influence.

According to the anonymous author, the more inspired, the more incapable of resisting this influence, unless the soul of the person arranging the ritual comes from a "universe bordering on mechanical materialism", and the inspiration is incredibly weak.

Why didn't I pay attention to this note at the time?

Yes, I remembered that at that time I seemed to think that since my inspiration was so weak, I must be able to resist the influence, and maybe my hometown was the so-called universe that was almost mechanical materialism.

But there is a clear problem with this, the anonymous author has never said that "weak inspiration" is equivalent to "immune influence", and my own hometown is not necessarily a universe that borders on mechanical materialism. Even if the first two are true, how can I immediately start practicing such a ritual of unknown origin, and suddenly take psionics as a living sacrifice? No matter how you say it, you have to test it step by step, do a good job of complete safety measures, and start the sacrifice from the souls of ordinary people.

Taking a step back, although I have studied the science of rituals and rituals, I am by no means an expert master, and even if I can see the mystery, I should not take it for granted and immediately jump to the link of "this ritual must be useful".

Is it because I want to be a psyker so much that I can't help myself? But I haven't been without a time when I was only one step away from hope, how could I not be able to hold my breath!

Could it be that my consciousness has been strongly influenced from the stage when I came into contact with the knowledge of the blood sacrifice ritual, but I have no consciousness?

*

The body of the sheepskin killer completely disappeared into the red light, and my body suddenly moved.

I didn't first check if I had become a psyker as I had hoped, and immediately walked away from the ceremony, but my body seemed to be filled with lead, and I had to move with difficulty against the wall. I only felt as if a tentacle came in out of nowhere in my head and stirred vigorously, neither painful nor dizzy, but the "gestalt collapse" of the scene in my eyes intensified, so that the whole world seemed stranger and more grotesque.

I came to the mouth of the alley, the street lamps on the left and right of the street looked like monks wearing black hooded robes, huge and slender, Western religious style, for some reason giving people a terrifying mood, and the buildings in the vicinity were like tombstones, exuding the smell of dead silence.

I closed my eyes and opened them again, and this time, the streetlamps no longer looked like "giant monks", but "giant monks like street lamps", and the faces of these "monks" were obscured by the shadow of their hoods, silently, moving very slowly, passing through the "tombstones like buildings", heading into the distance, as if they were making a desperate pilgrimage.

Where are the "monks" going? I had an untimely curiosity, but when I tried to look in that direction, a strong fear rose out of thin air and told me: Don't look!

It dawned on me that my consciousness was probably getting closer to the abstract universe, and that I was touching a realm that was extremely forbidden for life in the figurative universe!

The worst result is that the consciousness and the body are dragged into the abstract universe and transformed into some inexplicable form of existence, and they continue to exist in a state that does not know whether they are still alive or not.

Even if it is not so bad, the result can only be that the physical body remains in the image universe, and the consciousness is always in a state similar to being hijacked, which is similar to being hijacked, and it can no longer read the information of the image universe correctly, and it will become a madman in the eyes of normal people.

Suddenly, a sudden thought came to my mind: What does it mean to "no longer be able to read the information of the image universe correctly"? Normal people's observation of the universe may not be correct, but only universal. In a sense, human beings have never lived in the real universe, but only in the "illusionary universe" woven by brain cells and tissues with extremely limited information materials.

Now I may be closer to the true form of the universe.

No, no, you can't think of it that way...... It's not a normal thought I have.

I struggled to close my eyes, trying to isolate myself from the grotesque world.

However, even the darkness after closing the eyes is extremely grotesque under the influence of the gestalt collapse, and it seems to be surging with countless indescribable abstract anomalies. I feel like it's going to be a matter of time before I go crazy.

We must find a way out of this situation!

At this moment, the tentacle that had been stirring the brain tissue in my imagination suddenly stopped, seemed to be a little confused, and quickly pulled back.

I couldn't help but open my eyes, and the scene in front of me was actually the same again, and I was back in the world I knew.