Hiroshi consciousness came back slowly.
Then comes the pain. His chest. His arms. That bone-deep ache from the strength multiplier, still sitting heavy in his muscles like something poured in that hadn't drained. The pain suppression was still running. Whatever reserves it had left, it was scraping the bottom of them.
He opened his eyes.
The reddish glow was still above him.
He was still in the same room. He had to sit with that for a second, he'd half-expected to wake up somewhere else entirely, or not wake up at all, and the fact that he was here and breathing and apparently alive took longer than it should have to actually land.
He tried to move his arms.
But he couldn't.
He looked down. Old iron chains were tightly wrapped around his body, bolted to the stone floor. His wrists were pinned close to the ground, which meant he was sitting up against something, hands trapped at his sides. He tested the chains once, put real weight behind it.
Nothing happened.
