The middle-aged man's body, already like that of a rag doll, seemed to dissolve all at once, clinging to Gerald's arm as if it were melting onto it.
Gerald sensed something was wrong. Instinctively, he tore off his own arm and threw it aside.
He didn't dare to look at the detached arm he'd thrown into a corner. Instead, he hunched his back and squeezed through the metal door. Though the door was much smaller than his size, it felt as large as a basketball court compared to the box he had squeezed through in Bratislava. The exertion was, in a strange sense, "relaxing".
However, as he just managed to contort half of his body through, he found his detached arm undergoing a bizarre transformation. His muscle fibers were writhing, extending, and merging like a myriad of fish thrown ashore.
