This was the power of that wire torture device.
An ordinary person had merely brushed against it and nearly lost half their life. That was only because the Cenobites revered pain and had not added any extra curses to the wire.
The three of them supported Curt as they quickly retreated.
Meanwhile, Martin began closing in on the pseudo-Cenobite before him step by step. The Cenobite's previously gentle, ordinary gaze finally changed.
His pupils vanished, and his eyeballs turned completely black.
Just like Nailhead's eyes.
The sphere in his hand kept shifting shape. Strands of wire circled the Box of Mourning, even piercing through his palm.
At last, the box settled into a cube.
'Click, click, click—boom!'
The ground seemed like a detonated mechanism. A massive domain of iron cages woven from wire abruptly unfolded from underground, enveloping Martin and the other four within it.
This pseudo-Cenobite of pain had fully deployed his domain.
"Mr. Gear, you don't mind if I call you that, do you? Just as I don't mind you calling me 'Smoker.'"
"I have to say, you're actually quite pitiful!"
Martin sliced through the endlessly emerging wires, then suddenly spoke.
The Cenobite stared expressionlessly at Martin with utterly black pupils, showing no reaction to his words.
"Who exactly do you worship?"
"For whom do you uphold your code of conduct? Does your faith truly have a source?"
"Or do you really believe that the source of your power belongs to 'pain'?" Martin kept questioning him.
At the same time, the attacks from his hands did not stop. Gear slashed toward the Cenobite, while the other man's wires continuously wove together like a spiderweb.
Martin had become Wu Heng's Blood Floss Demon, so he could sense how the Cenobite before him differed from himself.
Combined with the other