Viktor is generally not squeamish--even if they hadn't practiced this extensively, he's seen too much just from living in Zaun to be fazed by the sight of surgery. Having it performed on him, while awake, is something else entirely, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut when Nadine begins.

It is not even remotely painless. They've prepared for this, they've done this in the Horizon both with feeling fully blocked and without, but now it's happening in the real world and Jayce's healing and Alucard's blood will only do so much. It's thanks to those efforts (and various other medications they've scrounged up), that he isn't going into shock immediately. Still, the longer they draw this out, the more likely it is that will happen, and the team will be left with a nonfunctional Hexcore and no path forward.

That determination is stronger than the pain of being cut into, or the pressure of the saw against his ribcage. He focuses, instead, on the hand in his, knuckles white from squeezing. The Hexcore, too, is ready and waiting, as it seems to come alive the moment blood—-his blood—-is spilled. Nadine works slowly and carefully, which he appreciates, given the fact that she’s only ever done this to corpses, but he finds himself increasingly impatient, the heartbeat in his ears closer and closer to the rhythmic pulse and spin of the Hexcore.

There’s more to be done—-the next step is the runes, marked into his damaged lungs, but Viktor’s gaze focuses somewhere past the group, eyes glassy, his grip suddenly loosening on Jayce’s hand.

“I can—-“ His eyebrows furrow, not in pain, but bewilderment, like he wasn’t expecting this. “I feel it. The Hexcore.”