Lucky whispered a spell on the knife before he slowly cut through the flesh around the bullet.
The spell was to prevent the flesh from healing up as he cut through so that he would be able to reach the bullet without the flesh around it covering it up again.
Plutonic was shaking from the pain, not the pain caused by the knife but the pain caused by the bullet and the spell that Lucky was using to keep his wound open.
If not for the magic spell that was holding him up, he would have torn the younger male into pieces. Pain was not something to be enjoyed nor was it something that one would bask out like the way people basked out in the sun.
His ragged breathes and the way his face was contorted, reflected pain.
Lucky leaned lower so that he would have a better view of what he was doing. The blood oozing out of the wound was not red but black!