His body transformed into mud, Wilder climbed the wall and adhered to the ceiling of the cell. This mud possessed strong adhesive and clinging properties. Wilder knew of a technique called "Bottomless Swamp," and while his memories indicated he didn't know the move, experiencing the ability firsthand made him realize that the bottomless swamp was one of its fundamental characteristics.
A swamp could engulf any prey that fell into it, possessing limitless capacity.
"This trait is somewhat similar to the Dark-Dark Fruit, although not as powerful. But who knows, maybe I can develop it into a terrifying, cataclysmic attack in the future." Wilder felt a surge of anticipation at this thought.
Every characteristic of a Devil Fruit was invaluable. Engulfment was arguably one of the Swamp-Swamp Fruit's most potent traits, and Wilder certainly wouldn't neglect this avenue of development.
But for now, that wasn't the priority. He could rely on his Fruit's abilities, but he also needed to become strong himself.
As he moved, a sudden thought struck Wilder: "Could I stretch the swamp into a thin line? That way, I could easily conceal myself in the darkness."
Otherwise, leaving the cell would expose him to the potential gaze of the video Den Den Mushi. After all, a large mass of moving swamp was a very conspicuous target.
Although Wilder had figured out the movement patterns of the Den Den Mushi's gaze, who knew if there were hidden ones?
Putting thought into action, Wilder began attempting to stretch his mud-transformed body. To be precise, he tried to make it flow.
The flow was slow, but Wilder successfully extended a line of mud from his body.
The line was about seven or eight centimeters in diameter, but Wilder felt it wasn't enough. His goal was to fit into the cracks between the paving stones in the corridor, cracks that were only three or four centimeters wide.
Only by fitting himself into those gaps could he ensure complete concealment.
At first, it was successful. But gradually, as the line extended to a meter or two, Wilder felt the difficulty increase sharply.
It felt like holding a long bamboo pole; the hand at the front held it steady, but the end swayed and wobbled uncontrollably.
A regular line didn't belong to the swamp; the swamp itself was irregular and free-flowing. Was that why it was so difficult?
"It's an irregular, free-flowing fluid, but... there should be more to it." Wilder furrowed his brow in thought. "Unlike water, which is also a fluid, mud possesses plasticity. However, once it exceeds a controllable limit, this plasticity weakens."
So...
Either he needed to enhance the swamp's plasticity, or he needed to improve his control over it. The former was difficult and couldn't be achieved in a short time. The latter was also not easy.
"No, that's not quite right. All this mud is formed from my own body. Logically, I should be able to control it freely. That means..." Wilder's brow lifted. "I understand."
It was like how an ordinary person couldn't do the splits. Similarly, Wilder, transformed into a swamp, might be able to do the splits due to its properties, but he might not necessarily be able to form a straight line. Therefore, the key was a lack of targeted training.
"Looks like I'll have to postpone the operation for now." Wilder cast a cold glance at the opposite cell. In this place, he wouldn't take risks if he had a foolproof method.
"Steady..."
"Must be steady..."
Repeating this to himself, Wilder struggled to suppress the surging killing intent within him.
Several more days passed. Wilder's injuries had completely healed. Every day, except when the guards delivered food, Wilder hid in the deepest part of his cell. No one knew what he was doing, and no one cared. He was just a prisoner who'd attempted and failed to escape.
Another shift change arrived. No one noticed that Wilder had silently disappeared from his cell.
Similarly, no one would notice the unidentified liquid flowing within the cracks between the floor tiles.
Undetected, Wilder had arrived at the cell across the way.
Wilder's guess was correct. Inside was indeed an old man, a giant of a man, easily six or seven meters tall, lying on the floor, sleeping like a log.
The slender line of swamp gathered at the top of the cell, gradually forming a half-human-shaped mass.
Wilder revealed a pair of eyes, gazing down at the snoring old man on the floor.
"Heh heh heh..." Suppressed laughter escaped from the swamp. The sound was low, but Wilder's eyes were nearly splitting with a ferocious intensity.
He had never been a person of sound mind. The flower of the demon within him only bloomed in moments of greatest triumph.
He was excited. Revenge and planning were two of his greatest passions, and today, Wilder would enact a combination of both: a calculated revenge.
Yes, he had no intention of killing this old man. Whether from the perspective of thrill or the possibility of exposure, letting this old man die at his own hands or someone else's was far better than killing him himself.
The flowing swamp slowly descended from the ceiling. The extremely adhesive mud, under Wilder's concentrated control, didn't detach.
Wilder watched as his transformed self drew closer and closer to the old man. He felt a strange sensation. The scene reminded him of a certain comic book character from his previous life: Venom.
The same flowing liquid, the same ability to transform into a half-human form that could envelop others.
"Heh heh heh... interesting, interesting." Sudden ideas could sometimes lead to great contributions in the future. Wilder mentally noted this thought, then his eyes turned ferocious. He released his grip on the ceiling, his body plummeting downwards.
Splat!
A faint sound emerged as the swamp landed on the old man's face and rapidly spread, covering his entire head. More swamp secreted from Wilder's body, clinging to the old man's enormous form.
"Ugh... ugh..."
"Heh heh heh..." Watching the old man awaken from his sleep and struggle violently, Wilder couldn't help but let out a low chuckle.
His body emerged from the swamp, solidifying into human form.
Pulling out the toothpick from his clothes, Wilder knelt down and unlocked the old man's cuffs.
Wilder didn't care whether the old man had the ability to resist. Certain things inevitably involved risks. Like now: Was there a chance that this old man, once his cuffs were removed, would turn out to be a Logia Devil Fruit user?
Certainly, there was. But the chance of him not being one was higher.
Wilder was willing to take that risk, because it was unavoidable. To execute his plan, he had to unlock this shackle of humanity.
He wanted to see... if this old man would run.