The sun had just risen, casting its warm light over the Wasteland. The sky above was vast and blue, with only a few wisps of white cloud drifting lazily across it. The earth shone golden, while the distant mountains looked hazy and mysterious. Nearby, a dried-up river wound silently through the land, its banks covered in yellowed grass and sparse, low shrubs. The wind swept past, stirring up sand and dust and lending the scene a desolate air.
Dorothy stood at the edge of the Wasteland, gazing into the distance through the windblown sand. She could sense the secrets buried deep within this land.
She slowly followed the dried-up river, gravel crunching beneath her feet. As she ventured farther in, the Wasteland grew increasingly hostile. The wind raged harder, whipping sharp grains of sand against her face, yet her eyes remained utterly calm.
Dorothy stood in the Wasteland, her face expressionless and her gaze cold. She gently closed her eyes and focused her awareness on her psionic perception. Under her guidance, psionic energy slowly extended into the depths of the Wasteland like cold tendrils, probing as it went. Though the search was gradual, every faint sensation registered clearly in her mind.
Her psionic perception explored the mysteries of the Wasteland little by little, at a steady, methodical pace. The silence and indifference of the Wasteland seemed to suit her personality. Her perception was calm and systematic, capturing every signal precisely and recording every detail clearly.
Dorothy had already been excavating various places in the Wasteland where ruins might lie, but she had found nothing. Consciousness had merely taken a cursory look before deciding to come to the Wasteland and investigate with her own psionic energy.
The nature of the Wasteland unfolded within her perception. Her psionic energy flowed slowly through