The air around me crackles with the familiar sting of psychic assault. It’s a symphony of hatred and malice, a thousand tiny daggers of thought aimed directly at my mind. For years, my response was to retaliate. I’d weave my own psychic constructs, shaping them into blades of pure will to slice through their attacks and shatter the minds behind them. My psychic landscape was a battlefield, littered with the wreckage of my enemies’ broken thoughts and shattered consciousnesses.
But a few cycles ago, a new awareness bloomed within me. The rage and the retaliation, they were exhausting. The victory, for all its psychic glory, felt hollow. I was a mirror, reflecting their ugliness back at them, and in the process, I was becoming just as twisted.

Now, as the psychic daggers hurtle towards me, I feel not anger, but a strange sense of peace. I close my eyes, and instead of raising a shield or crafting a weapon, I simply open myself. I feel their hatred, a black, viscous sludge of intent, wash over me. But I do not absorb it. I don’t let it touch the core of who I am.

Instead, I focus on my own energy, a warm, golden light that radiates from my center. I let it expand, a gentle wave of pure, unadulterated healing. It flows out, meeting the incoming psychic daggers not with force, but with love. As the two energies collide, something incredible happens. The daggers don’t shatter; they dissolve. The black sludge of hatred isn’t repelled; it’s purified.

The malicious thoughts, the ill will, the desire for my destruction—they are all healed. I feel the psychic waves, once a chorus of malice, become a gentle hum of neutrality, then a quiet whisper of peace. It’s the ultimate defense, the final weapon. I’m not fighting them anymore. I’m transforming them. I am not a mirror of their ugliness, but a beacon of light, and in its presence, their darkness has no choice but to fade away. The battlefield in my mind is gone, replaced by a quiet garden of serenity.