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Disappointed, Hector decided to try other things. Temperature manipulation was the first on his list.

That proved flatly impossible. With the iron, he could make it glow white hot without even remaking it. But this goop just stayed pitch black. He supposed that made sense, though. He'd had a lot more trouble learning temperature manipulation back in the real world than he had with velocity states.

What about something easier, then?

Simple shapes.

He wanted it to become a box. He concentrated hard, envisioning the exact form in his mind.

And it took a little while, but it did it. The goop gathered itself up and turned itself into a box with sharp, pristine edges. The sheen was even more pronounced now with its perfectly flat sides.

Heh. Cool. Hector couldn't help feeling pleased with himself.

Then he noticed the ground again. The goop had compacted itself so much that the ground that had previously been beneath it was now much more visible.

And it was changed. Darker like the goop. At first, he'd thought it was just a shadow, but no, upon a more thorough inspection, the iron itself had indeed gotten darker.

Had the Amir-9's goop... infected it? Transformed it?

Hector wasn't sure what to think.

Could this be... a good thing?

He tried to move the darker iron and found it similarly difficult.

Equally difficult, in fact.

Just as with the goop, he could manipulate its shape, but not without effort. He made this one a pyramid.

Then his vision flickered.

Uh-oh.

His eyes still didn't hurt at all, but they were probably not going to last much longer. And without any idea of how to get out of here or to help them, he wanted to start panicking.

But he didn't.

This place, it had a weirdly comforting presence to it. All this iron, all his iron--it felt too warm and welcoming. And besides, he'd already panicked earlier. It hadn't achieved anything before, and it wouldn't do so now.

So instead, he just closed his eyes, as if to ready himself for the darkness. Maybe that would protect them. Maybe it wouldn't. Either way was fine.

He was calm.

He was concentrating.

He was reaching out, trying to listen to all of his senses. No air for sound. No tactile feeling for touch. No eyes for vision.

And yet he was not without faculty. He could still sense the iron all around him. And the black stuff, too, actually. It was similar, yet distinct.