Martin clasped his hands together and rubbed them, like a boxer warming up before throwing a punch.
Then he took two steps back and raised his right hand.
"This is my first time using this kind of power. I wonder how strong it is?"
"And I'm quite curious about what's outside."
As Martin spoke, his hand transformed into a black, curved blade, from which protruded a chewing-sucking mouthpart resembling a bee's proboscis.
Only, this mouthpart was black, seeming both like flesh and metal.
Its tip continuously emitted illusory ripples, false one moment and seemingly solid the next.
"Since my palm endured the pain you inflicted on me, then I have the right to break you open!"
Martin's voice echoed in layers, as though three people were speaking at once.
As he spoke, he took a step forward, leaving an afterimage in the white room. Then his curved, bladed right hand, equipped with the mouthpart, stabbed into the white wall.
Krrch—!
A sound like cloth being torn rang out, accompanied by the sensation of weightlessness in his arm. The wall was ripped open, and Martin's hand passed through.
He pulled his hand back and could not help saying, "If I'd had this ability before, how could I have been sealed in a room and nearly killed myself?"
After saying that, he laughed at himself. That was impossible.
Martin tilted his head slightly and looked outside through the hole his arm had punched through.
He discovered a corridor—a deathly pale corridor. There were no doors, no windows, no ventilation ducts. It was simply a white corridor.
And his room was on one side of the corridor.
More importantly, Martin discovered that the torn hole in the wall was repairing itself. The glaring white beam that had been concentrated over the head of