The light flow grows, the blade's shimmering intensifies, and Xeha looks between the outputs on his equipment and the sights in front of him. Looking good.

"Switching in three - two - one."

He catches himself holding his breath as he flicks a switch. The pure glow flickers out of existence, to be replaced by what could only be its opposite, faint ethereal curls drifting away from the focused beam - a mutter and a little adjustment, and they're gone.

"This will take a little longer."

But not a second longer than he has to be around it for.