The middle-aged man's body, already like a rag doll, suddenly seemed to melt, sticking to Gerald's arm and clinging tightly to it.
Gerald sensed something was wrong and acted decisively, tearing off his entire right arm and throwing it away.
He didn't look at the severed arm he'd tossed into the corner. Instead, he crouched and forced his way through the metal door. The door was much smaller than his body, but compared to the box he'd squeezed through in Bratislava, it was practically as big as a basketball court. Squeezing through was "easy."
But just as he had barely twisted halfway through, he suddenly noticed that his severed right arm was undergoing a bizarre transformation. Its muscle fibers thrashed wildly like countless mudskippers tossed onto shore, then stretched and knitted together.
He could already regenerate severed limbs and heal wounds in a very short time, but never this quickly. What's more, the "dancing" muscle fibers on his arm gave him a sense of being pulled away from his control, as if they didn't belong to him at all.
Gerald instinctively looked toward the corner of the room where he'd thrown his severed arm. To his astonishment, all that remained there were scraps of the middle-aged man's pants!
He knew that after a while, his detached limbs and blood would turn to dust and vanish, but that took time. Besides, the middle-aged man's strange body had been wrapped around his severed arm. For all of it to suddenly disappear, while his severed arm wound developed these strange changes and sensations, clearly couldn't be a coincidence.
While he hesitated, unsure whether to deal with the abnormality in his right arm first or force his way out and find somewhere safe, the rapidly growing tissue suddenly gathered into a huge lump of