Somewhere far into the frozen wastes, a storm was brewing, and night was falling. The air was razorsharp cold, cutting into the soft, moist lining of the airways as one tried to breathe. The wind was beginning to pickup, and only eyes gifted with darkness-sight could see the undulating bellies of clouds gathering above. It was here that Mithias concentrated, holding his hands together in front of him as if holding an invisible sword. 

His black hair waved freely about him, a lock blowing across his face without his care. At first there was nothing, and then a pale green light procured itself from his grasp. A green sword was summoned, pointing itself straight upward in a line between the vampire's eyes in front of his face. The blade hummed with the ability to cut dimensions. It was both there and not, lethal, and vanished, both within the same instant of reality. 

Suddenly yellow eyes flashed open and the two vanished and reappeared high above where they had been. Unsupported in the sky, Mithias began falling immediately, as was natural, yet he held onto his weapon. Again he blinked out and reappeared, back to the height he had been only split seconds ago. Again he began to fall, and again he blinked back up. 

"I am one with the blade..." He spoke only to hear himself as he concentrated. The wielder and the weapon were the same. The techniques of his predecessor were not lost to him. With his understanding deepening, He realized that dimensional travel was a cut into reality itself. His existence, and specifically his location, were facts made manifest by his will. Flight was not beyond him, it was merely one continual cut away, a state of attack, just another godlike technique. 

Hovering now in the air, Mithias held onto his success. It would be easier a second time, then a third... He would return to being the unstoppable badass he had once been.