Launched a short distance into a tree, Mithias picked himself up as quickly as he could. In truth, he staggered, and it took a full moment to get off his knee. Thankfully, he'd managed to hold onto his now blood-covered right hand sword, for all the good it would do him. Clutching his terrible chest wound to stem the bleeding, he lifted his gaze questioningly at Magnus. Why had the old vampire not died? Mithias himself must have been extremely lucky. Blood dripped from the old vampire's chest, in the correct location, but Magnus had not been destroyed. It was then that Mithias realized how heartless Magnus really was. He cursed under his breath as he felt doubt begin to sink in. There could be no victory without hope. 

As Magnus got closer, Mithias stood once more, one hand on his chest and the other on his weapon.