Ch. 65 - This is Meditation

The meditation room had some kind of soundproofing spell programmed right in. After activating my Psi-vision, I could feel the "noise" getting blocked by this invisible barrier, clear as day.

There was even an anti-scrying ward?

I had no clue why my Psi-vision could punch through that thing and catch these glimpses. Had it leveled up to ignore spells like that?

I trudged back to the center of the room and plopped down on my ass, mulling it over. Screw it—let's try again.

I wasn't ready to call it quits. Time was on my side, and I'd shelled out cash for this!

Even if it meant crashing here and napping the whole session, I'd milk every minute. It was just a day's pay—spent is spent—but I wasn't about to waste it.

Diving back into meditation without Psi-vision felt like I'd cracked open Pandora's box. "Dreams" just latched on, refusing to let go.

Once I chilled out, cleared my head, and followed the book's steps, I'd slip into a dream without even realizing. Sometimes I didn't snap out of it till it was too late.

This was seriously messed up.

In the dream now, I sat cross-legged, racking my brain for a way out. I couldn't stay trapped like this forever, right?

Was my path to transcendence seriously dead-ending here?

Hell no. I wasn't okay with that.

Not even a little bit!

Why could every senior here meditate just fine, while I ended up dreaming?

That first time, I'd spotted the seniors, but the second I clocked that I was dreaming, poof—they vanished.

Like my dreams couldn't handle a second pair of eyes.

"Meditation space for meditating, mental space for meditating, dream space for meditating...?"

I barely registered what I was mumbling. When it hit me, I jolted—had I just stumbled onto something huge?

If I could build mental strength and refine my thread of consciousness in a dream, what made it different from real meditation?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

Maybe I'd have been barking up the wrong tree from the start. Instead of forcing more meditation, I should lean into boosting my mental power!

I took a breath to steady the buzz, then replayed the book's instructions in my head.

It covered refining the thread of consciousness, plus how to amp up mental power on the side.

Step one: hit that meditative trance. Step two: sense your mental power for real, snag it, then refine away.

But could I even grab hold of my mental power in this headspace?

I wasn't feeling a damn thing...

I scanned the hazy surroundings—everything blurred without my focus—like, how do you "find" mental power? That sounded way too vague.

How would I even know what it looked like? Hell, in this state, I couldn't spot it at all.

Because... this was... a dream.

Arms crossed, I chewed on options until I caved and triggered Psi-vision.

Sure, in a dream, it didn't do much—info faded like smoke.

But there was indeed something to see.

If Psi-vision revealed information, it proved that dreams held real meaning in the inner world. They existed for certain, just in an abstract form I couldn't yet grasp, and I'd somehow sensed them without understanding how.

Once I brushed aside the veil of my subconscious, I realized how much information I'd buried in the dream. And there it was: the "mental power" I'd been hunting, hidden among it all.

It stood out as the most abstract, yet the most unmistakable.

Everything I could perceive here—the entire scene—was built from mental power.

"Is this mental power?"

My fingers pressed against the wall, my voice shifting from doubt to resolve.

The solid surface yielded like clay between two fingers, unraveling layer by layer as if I'd peeled back its secrets.

For the first time, I felt mental power so directly. Amid the thrill, I recalled the book's steps for refining it.

"Become mine to command."

I called out in the dream, the words like a chuunibyou outburst, channeling my focus and shattering the illusions mental power had woven around me.

My vision warped; the world ahead twisted and stretched under some unseen pull.

With Psi-vision's aid, I traced the shifts in mental power more clearly.

It was as if my own shift in perception had forged the refinement.

I seemed to drift back to that void of nothingness.

Yet fragments lingered—shattered reflections of familiar scenes, struggling to align.

And now, something new rested in my hand.

A thread, thin as silk. I pinched it between my fingers, drawing it taut before me.

No matter how I strained, its true form blurred, like trying to focus through nearsighted haze.

Ephemeral, yet solid.

Opposites bound in one entity.

Was this the standard thread of consciousness from the book?

I eyed the drifting shards around me, piecing together a fractured whole. If so, then all this uncontrolled "mental power" exceeded even a single standard unit?

My current reserves could barely condense one thread?

If they fell short, refinement might fail outright.

A sobering thought—and one worth celebrating.

I released the thread from my grasp. Now, it differed from the mental power shaped by my subconscious.

This strand answered to my will alone. I could even mold it to craft a detailed dreamscape, just as I envisioned.

As for increasing mental power... that posed an intriguing challenge.

Witch Meditation touched on it, but vaguely—as a side effect, varying by individual.

Still, mental power didn't arise from nothing. There had to be a way to cultivate it.

Mental power was an inherent attribute of mine, which meant that training my will, honing my resolve through trials, and various other methods could all serve to strengthen it.

In this space, then, persistent practice—repeating the process, expending energy to gradually expand and intensify my mental reserves—certainly qualified as a valid way to build it up.

Yet, wouldn't such a method prove rather monotonous?

I directed the thread of consciousness to shape an elaborate, breathtaking landscape around me—a task that drained my energy considerably. The gains in mental power were subtle, but the results were tangible enough to see.

It seemed progress would come only through steady, accumulated effort over time.

I eased myself out of the dream gradually. Having confirmed that dreams could achieve what meditation promised, there was no need to linger; the mere attempt at refining mental power had already depleted my reserves profoundly.

Fatigue was about to overwhelm my awareness.

My body felt as though it had endured exhaustive physical labor, leaving me utterly drained.

Just then, the faint, soothing aroma of the incense wafted over. What had once seemed merely pleasant now acted like a balm for my weary mind—a true restorative elixir!

So this was the incense's true purpose... It truly aided meditation.

Upon reflection, that subtle fragrance had accompanied me throughout, though I'd been oblivious to it in the dream.

The realization struck like a revelation: this incense had been well worth the cost.

After all, it carried the essence of a full day's labor.

But that was no longer the point.

The incense appeared to have burned out entirely; as I rested my hand on the burner, only faint traces of warmth lingered.

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