Slock's face was pale as paper, her lips utterly bloodless. She slowly shook her head weakly, her voice as faint as a dying candle in the wind. "I... I'm fine. It's not... serious."
Yet her trembling body and labored breathing clearly showed that she was enduring tremendous pain.
Guer Taige and Alecto hurried forward and carefully helped Slock to a chair nearby.
The moment Slock sat down, she slumped against the backrest like a deflated balloon, gasping for breath. Beads of sweat the size of soybeans covered her forehead, sliding down her cheeks and dripping onto the floor, vanishing in an instant.
She looked utterly drained, as though every trace of vitality had been sucked from her. None of the former dignity, nobility, or elegance of a seer remained; instead, she resembled a beggar who had suffered endless hardship.
Overexerting one's psychic power was a heavy burden for any psyker. For someone as powerful as Slock, the strain it placed upon her mind was unimaginably immense.
Judging by the psychic fluctuations Slock had emitted just now, an ordinary psyker in her position would likely have either exploded and died on the spot or been noticed by lurking nearby daemons and possessed by them. There would have been no chance of survival.
Fortunately, the Aeldari were born with unparalleled psychic talent. It was precisely because of this innate advantage that she had narrowly escaped disaster and survived such a perilous situation unharmed.
Though her body was incredibly weak, Slock forced her eyes open and looked at Guer Taige beside her with utter exhaustion. "Guer Taige, give the order... Retreat immediately!"
Guer Taige could not help looking puzzled at those words. He stared at Slock in confusion. "Seer Slock, we came here to carry out the important mission of investigating the situation.