Back in his cell, Wilder was momentarily silent. Darkness shrouded his face, hiding his expression.
Today's events had been unexpected. The consequences nearly spiraled out of his control, feeling to Wilder like a knife thrust into his chest, missing his heart by mere millimeters.
Like a fishbone caught in the throat—that's probably the best way to describe it.
Various thoughts raced through his mind, his expression flickering between light and shadow. The threat he'd made to Eigg was born of a momentary desperation. Wilder had understood a basic principle since childhood: agreements, or rather, collaborations, were built on the condition that both parties desired to maintain balance.
This meant that if Eigg ever decided he no longer wanted to live, or… found an opportunity to bring about Wilder's demise, then their agreement would instantly shatter.
But there was another possibility. Eigg might never have intended to expose what happened today. Otherwise, upon discovering Wilder's actions, he wouldn't have spoken up; he would have chosen to remain silent, hidden.
But Wilder wasn't one to gamble. To base his safety on a self-comforting fantasy was never his style.
His eyes glinted, fleeting thoughts finally coalescing into the rough framework of a plan in his mind. His killing intent receded, and Wilder rose, heading towards the back of the cell.
If Eigg could be a docile rabbit for these four years, then Wilder wouldn't mind giving him a chance…
…
The attempted prison break, as Wilder expected, turned out to be a farce. The monotonous prison life always needed a bit of spice.
Whether criminals or guards, no one disliked this kind of harmless drama. The old man couldn't stir up any real trouble; everyone knew it.
Thus, from escape to capture and final execution, the entire process could be described as a tense yet thrilling play. At the very least, no one was dissatisfied with it.
The Swamp played a silent role in this farce, and similarly, no one knew that a mastermind was hidden within it.
This was the only thing Wilder was satisfied with—if it weren't for that incident with Eigg.
Time always slipped away silently, and Wilder's plan was also secretly progressing day by day.
Thin strands of swamp seeped through the cracks in the corridor floor, burrowing into the gaps in the corners of the empty cell.
A silent transformation was underway.
Deep within the cell, Wilder sat cross-legged. Beneath him was a pool of swamp, a straight line extending from it, reaching across to the opposite side, connecting to the swamp within the cracks.
Constant practice was the best way to master any skill.
Through his continuous efforts to assimilate the interior of the floor each day, Wilder found his control over the swamp growing significantly.
However, his biggest and most unexpected gain was in the assimilation aspect of the swamp.
Wilder had deeply understood how difficult it was to swampify his environment when he first gained his abilities.
Perhaps because he had a pressing goal, or perhaps because his control over the Swamp-Swamp Fruit's abilities had improved.
Originally, Wilder could assimilate an area the size of a mung bean in one second. Now, he could instantly swampify an area the size of his palm.
Don't underestimate this progress.
Given the opportunity, Wilder could completely swampify an area of several dozen square meters in ten minutes.
"It seems that increasing the fruit's power requires constant development and practice."
"It's like a rusty lock that needs to have the rust removed bit by bit before it can be opened smoothly, and this process is development and control?" Wilder looked thoughtful, but then he shook his head, rejecting the idea.
The development and control of the Swamp-Swamp Fruit's abilities were a difficult process, something Wilder was well aware of. Fruit development wasn't about getting whatever you wanted; everything had to be based on the abilities the fruit inherently possessed.
"Rather than development, it's more like excavation—excavating paths that already exist, but are buried under countless stones."
"This excavation process is development. Only when all the stones on an entire path are cleared can you completely possess the ability that path represents. At that point, you need practice to gain powerful control to display its power and form."
"Or perhaps… every Devil Fruit ability has a certain foundation. These foundations are the essence and framework of that ability. They're like paths half-covered by stones, not requiring mastery or development to be used."
"Some people are content to use these basics, while others want to make these basics stronger. So, they rack their brains to develop and strengthen these basics."
"That's why the same Devil Fruit ability, when used by different people, can differ in both power and method."
Wilder's eyes flickered as these understandings of Devil Fruits passed through his mind.
"The accessibility and width of the path, the number and length of paths…" Wilder murmured. He was thinking about this to give himself a guiding light for the development of his Devil Fruit abilities.
If his understanding was correct, then by following this line of thought, Wilder could more easily grasp the essence of the Swamp-Swamp Fruit.
A look of anticipation appeared on Wilder's face.
…
The flowing swamp continued to be channeled into the cracks in the floor during Wilder's contemplation.
Carrying out this project not only gave Wilder an understanding of fruit development and progress in swamp assimilation, but also made him increasingly comfortable and proficient in shaping and controlling the swamp.
Essentially, Wilder could now manipulate the swamp into various shapes at will.
As more and more of the floor's interior was assimilated into swamp, the assimilation rate also gradually increased. The vast interior of the floor was filled with a large amount of swamp, but the surface of the floor showed no visible changes.
For the next period of time, Wilder tried to keep an even lower profile, remaining silent and withdrawn. Apart from mealtimes, he stayed in the depths of his cell.
In fact, most of the long-term prisoners in Impel Down behaved this way, so no one found it unusual.
The guard who delivered the food occasionally cast wary glances at him, but Wilder didn't pay much attention. He was considering the feasibility of another plan.
If possible…
Watching the retreating back of the guard, Wilder's mouth gradually stretched into a sinister grin.
"Nyehehehe…"
A low chuckle echoed in the cell. A light called ambition shone from the depths of Wilder's eyes, crazed and violent.