Be that something, Acryl said to himself.

The window takes up more and more space in Acryl’s vision as he moves towards it. His legs are dragging on the floor. The distance between him and the window is less than five meters , but the way to it felt like kilometers. The window reflects Acryl’s frowning eyes. It has been at least an hour since he ended up at this place that is the same as Canvas’ studio. The cheap white light is still blasting as if the electricity bill never existed.

He puts his hand onto the cold window , taking a look to the outside closer as his body trembles like he is standing on a cliff.

‘‘What…is this…place?’’

He could hear the heartbeat of himself, the lurking blank darkness outside wasn't ending. Acryl looks left and right to the outside , every side of them is painted with the same hollow darkness. The sensation of space in Acryl is going downhill like a barrel , only this room that is identical to his teacher’s studio keeps his sense of reality to not break down to pieces.

At this point he starts to ignore the knocks , Acryl lays down on the floor , thinking of any possibilities to get out of this situation.

‘‘God out of machine…’’

‘‘I wish that could happen again.’’

He feels just like the colorful comics he read back in the days of school. Where a character is making a decision , one angel and one devil hops on the character’s shoulder and whispers their words.

Now there are two little devils telling him what he needs to do.

Stay inside , curiosity kills cats.

Go outside , don’t be a chicken.

…

Acryl has made his decision , he balances himself with both of his palms and stands up. Dizziness and darkness strikes up in his vision. His eyes couldn’t see for a second and he was close to bumping his foreheads with his reflection. His head was blank for a moment before the blood reached his eyes and brain.

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He stretches his hand forward to the doorknob.

Bone chilling pain comes from his left hand that is grabbed onto the doorknob. His dead gripping hand twists the door’s only limb. It is like a movie in slow motion when he tries to open the door and the never stopping knocks are the theme song. It feels like he is trying to shake an immovable stone with bare hand.

The door isn't moved by millimeters.

He stomps his feets and his eyebrows become a wave, but starts laughing quickly.

After letting some emotion out , Acryl wets his lips and his mind starts spinning.

The door has to open , no matter what.

Acryl expects the pain and the worming hexagon that has been with him the day since gain his ability. Where are my realm-arts? He questions no one , eyes open wide and head all chopped into pieces. His stirrings of mind all messed.

Out of confusion , he slides down , sitting on the floor.

What now?

All hope seems to die out , there are no bridges to burn and not even a dice to roll.

Then a loud bang explodes , forcefully punches his eardrum , pushing him away from despair and into a deeper rabbit hole. The non-existent gavel shaked the walls , making the window wobble like a tree in a storm and even the never stopping knocks seems to be as quiet as walking ants.

Out of instinct , Acryl squeezes his palm onto both of his ears like he is squeezing a tube of oil paint and bends his knees as low as he can , as if that would make the noises go away.

The metronome of gavel continues to shake the whole space.

Then he felt something else , outside the moving dark of his eyelid. Acryl couldn’t care less , but he can’t ignore that chilling that is making his skin twitch. The fabric of his clothes separate him and the metallic coldness and the sharp edges. He can tell that the thing is moving , twisting around a few centimeters above like a floating snake.

‘‘Open your eyes , Acryl.’’

The voice flicks a lever in Acryl’s mind , he can’t be more familiar with that voice. He’ll listen to it even if it is a mere hallucination.

Be that something , be the machine where god walks out of. Acryl said to himself again , pumping himself with encouragement.

His vision is blasted by light again , his pupil shrinks down to a dot. He sees the once seen unworldly silver branch sinking down into his skin , through his paint stained clothes as his cold sweats drip down with no pain , slithering all across his body. His brain tells him this must be painful , but he can’t feel a thing.

A part of him complains and makes a head palm in his imagination, but the other part sinks down in sanity , thoughts and ideas flood through him.

He nods to himself. Acryl strengthens his arms and legs , feet stomps onto the floor and fills his lungs with the smothering unfresh air. Every part of his body stretches to its limit as if he is tearing himself from inside. Acryl cannonballed straight to the other side of the room. The floor snows in broken branches that just fell down from himself.