Bruce and Bale-Batman had yet to recover from the swaying mass of color blocks and lines.
"What? Who died?" Bale-Batman blurted out instinctively. Pride's sudden voice had scared the sweat out of him.
Only then did Bruce realize that the glowing block of color had been a person. He turned to look at Bale-Batman and found that both of them wore equally bewildered expressions.
They knew they might see things that were difficult to understand, but hallucinations on this level were still a little too advanced for humans. If this was what the world looked like through the eyes of the pathological personalities, then how were they any different from being blind?
Then Bale-Batman caught on. "These shapes, colors, and lines represent different things to you. They each have special meanings, right?"
Pride nodded. He glanced at Bruce, then withdrew his gaze and said, "When the normal state controls the body, hallucinations like these do not appear often. You can only see a little when concentrating, and their operating principle is similar to that of ordinary people's empathy organs."
"If I had to say how it is stronger than ordinary people, it is probably that it turns people's more abstract feelings into more concrete visuals, making them easier to analyze using professional knowledge. That is my method of psychoanalysis."
"But the pathological state is not like that, is it?" Bruce asked.
"The pathological state is pathology itself. So when they control the body, he only has the blurry, chaotic vision typical of psychiatric patients or other sick people, filled with all kinds of hallucinations. He can barely make out the specific shapes of people or objects."
"Your gaze is always unfocused because you cannot see us," Bale-Batman said.
"More precisely, I am not looking at you." Schiller shook his head.