In the deathly silent operating room, the only sound was the low clink of hemostats and scalpels colliding, and as the murky breath under the oxygen mask rose and fell, the shadowless lamp flickered faintly.
Even though disinfectant had been used to scrub it over and over, the air still floated with a faint, elusive moldy smell.
Surgery was being performed under such abysmal conditions.
The surgeon calmly stitched the flesh and blood beneath his hands, one layer after another, letting the dust from the ceiling beside him rustle down without a glance.
Only when the final stitch was at last completed did he set down his instruments, take a few steps back, and let out a weary sigh.
"God City's Doctor, you've worked hard."
The assistant, who had only studied nursing for two years, helped him remove his gloves and protective gown, deeply admiring the Sacrificial effort and dedication he had shown these past days.
