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Hector looked at his open palm, even more unsure of what had just happened than ever. An iron javelin probably wouldn't have been enough to repel the monster like that. It would've just stuck into it like a pincushion, probably.

So did that mean his iron was working differently in this place? Or was this just some other kind of power entirely? Granted to him by the Forge for this vision, perhaps?

Or maybe this was all him. The effects of Domain. Or Focus. Or the Supreme Will. Or whatever.

He didn't have the luxury of standing around and mulling it over, unfortunately. The monsters were multiplying, he noticed.

Their sludgy bodies quivered grotesquely before splitting apart--but the strangest thing was that they didn't seem to lose mass when doing so. Not like those worms from the Undercrust did. It was more like these things were making up straight up clones of themselves. And some were starting to walk on too legs, raising their arms up toward Agrian.

And toward Hector, too.

Agrian was still busy working on suppressing the flames, throwing dirt around like a dark ocean against a stubborn, burning coastline. Whether he'd noticed the monsters--or could even see them in the first place--Hector couldn't yet tell.

Hector attacked with his "iron" again. This time, he tried to imagine something more effective against sludge than a javelin. A big iron cylinder with, hollow inside to keep the sludge contained, but also with a perfectly-fitted block shooting down through it from the top.

A kind of makeshift hydraulic press, was what he was going for.

Instead, the chosen monster simply splattered apart like it had been hit with a bomb.

Hector blinked as black goo flew everywhere, even making it all the way over to him and hitting him in the face.