Wolfram

It was an evening like any other. Jake had been at the library all day, trying to keep up with his classwork, when he finally decided to head back to his dorm. As he was walking down the path between the library and his building, something unusual caught his eye. 

Behind the dumpsters near his dorm, partially obscured by a pile of old papers, there was a small glass vial. It glinted faintly in the fading light of the evening. He hesitated before walking over to inspect it. There was no one around, and the vial seemed... strange. 

Curiosity piqued, Jake picked it up. The label was worn, but Jake could make out a single word: **"Tungsten."**

His heart skipped a beat. Tungsten? That was a metal—extremely durable, nearly indestructible. But why would someone label a vial with it? Was it a drug? Some kind of scientific experiment gone wrong?

Without thinking much more, Jake twisted the cap open and, almost instinctively, dabbed a bit of the glowing blue liquid onto his wrist. 

Within moments, his skin began to burn. The sensation was sharp and intense, like electricity coursing through his veins. Jake yelped in pain and pulled back, watching in awe and horror as his left arm transformed. His skin was turning gray—metallic, shiny, and solid. His veins pulsed beneath the surface as his arm became encased in what felt like living steel. Tungsten.

He stared at his arm in disbelief. What had he just done?