The Ten-Minute Mark

The ten-minute mark approached like a specter, and with it, the point of no return.

Hobe's brain was starved of oxygen during these relentless convulsions, and the prospect of irreversible damage loomed like a grim reaper.

The surgical team watched with clinical detachment, their faces betraying no emotion.

They had witnessed countless procedures, but the suffering before them was a stark reminder of the risks and sacrifices involved.

Then, almost miraculously, Hobe's convulsions began to relent. His body, battered and broken, finally started to yield.

His cries diminished to hoarse sobs, and his limbs, which had thrashed about in agony, grew still.

It was a cruel reprieve, a temporary respite from the relentless suffering. Hobe's consciousness teetered on the edge, suspended between life and a fate that, though merciful, held the promise of profound disability.

In those harrowing moments, Hobe had glimpsed the abyss of suffering, and it was a testament to his resilience that he had not descended into madness.

His body bore the scars of his ordeal, and his mind held the memories of a pain that few could fathom.

As the convulsions subsided, Hobe's body gradually relaxed. His heart rate, though weak, stabilized, and his labored breathing slowly returned to a somewhat regular rhythm.

The lines of pain on his face eased, replaced by an expression of resigned exhaustion.

"A promising start, Hobe," Alina murmured quietly.

As the three disappointed staff members sighed in frustration, one by one, they left the room, their faces etched with disappointment and the realization that they had been denied the spectacle they had hoped for.

The door swung closed behind them, muffling the sounds of the outside world and leaving Alina alone in the observation room.

Alina remained, her gaze fixed on the scene unfolding beyond the one-way glass. The surgical experts worked with precision and efficiency, their movements deliberate and methodical.

They positioned Hobe's body facedown, his arms outstretched in a cruciform pose. It was an eerie tableau, reminiscent of a sacrificial ritual.

With Hobe in this vulnerable position, they draped a sterile surgical cloth over his back, creating a sterile field for the procedure.

The antiseptic was carefully applied along the length of his spine, disinfecting the area where the Slayer Knight machine would be implanted.

The sharp scent of the antiseptic filled the room, mingling with the lingering tension.

The installation of the Slayer Knight machine had commenced, and it was a process that required the utmost precision.

The surgical team, clad in sterile gowns and gloves, worked in silent concentration. They began by making a precise incision along Hobe's spine, revealing the delicate network of nerves that lay beneath.

The surgeon's hands moved deftly. They carefully exposed the vertebrae, one by one, creating a small window of access to the spinal canal.

It was a delicate and intricate procedure, with no room for error.

Next, the Slayer Knight machine itself was brought into the operating room. It was a marvel of technology, a sleek and sophisticated device designed for one purpose – to merge with the human body and enhance its capabilities.

The machine gleamed under the sterile lights, its surface adorned with an array of ports and connectors.

With utmost care, the surgeon positioned the Slayer Knight machine above the exposed spinal canal. Tiny robotic arms extended from the device, their movements controlled by a skilled technician at a nearby console.

These robotic arms would be responsible for the delicate task of integrating the machine with Hobe's nervous system.

The surgeon made the final preparations, ensuring that everything was in place. Then, with a sense of gravity befitting the moment, they lowered the Slayer Knight machine into Hobe's body.

The robotic arms moved with precision, connecting the machine to the neural pathways in Hobe's spinal cord.

As the machine settled into its new home, a series of tiny electrodes extended from its surface, delicately interfacing with the nerve endings. It was a moment of merging, of man and machine becoming one.

Throughout the procedure, Hobe remained unconscious, his body still and vulnerable on the operating table.

His fate hung in the balance as the surgical team worked tirelessly to complete the installation.

Alina watched it all unfold, her eyes unwavering. She knew that this was the beginning of a new chapter for Hobe, one filled with challenges and uncertainty. But it was also a chance for him to protect his sister.

***