Kyrie's hands fell on the molten ball of metal, hitting it like a primitive and unrefined hammer, letting smolders and filth fly out of the metal. Spreading it like dough, hands hitting the metal incessantly.
Kyrie pounded the metal into a cubic shape again, compacting it into an uneven cube, full of ledges and nudges made by the irregular alignment of his fingers and fists, more smolders flying out of the cubic when he spread it, and then compacted it again and again.
He used his inhuman speed and strength to compact something as heavy as a metal plate of his size into a cubic shape. It was not easy, but the young man didn't stop hitting it, psyche fixed on the metal kneading and compacting repeatedly.
