Xion exhaled slowly, letting his mana settle over his hand. With a flick of his wrist, a faintly glowing blade formed. Its razor-sharp edges shimmered with white lustre.
It wasn't steel, but pure mana, concentrated and stable.
He hovered it just above Darius's already sterilized chest.
"Hold still," he murmured, more to himself than the man lying pale and motionless in front of him.
Then, he made a cut. A clean, controlled line down the center of Darius's sternum. He slid the blade out as soon as the incision was deep enough.
Blood welled up immediately, but Xion was already pressing a cloth soaked in suppressant against the wound, slowing the bleeding.
With delicate care, he reached for the thin, transparent pipe resting in the sterilized tray beside him.
The tip of the pipe shimmered with enchantments. He pushed it into the open incision, guiding it gently until it found its place.
