Mithias would have been lying to say he hadn't been at all worried about staying. Still, ever since he came here, he'd had an inexplicable numbness to death creep its way into him, a willingness to risk obliteration for the sake of curiosity. Perhaps, he had gone a little insane himself. Maybe that was what Bob liked about him.

Once again, finding himself shaking on the floor, he slowly gathered the fragments of his wit. The Godkiller had pierced his very soul in a fraction of a moment. Mithias had felt himself reduced to nothingness in comparison to this being. His mind, his memories, his essence, ripped open for display, and he himself helpless to stop it. Was it his vampire nature that refused to die, or did the Godkiller merely decide not to utterly destroy his mind? The pain was unbelievable, and his soul cried for mercy. Silenced, and humbled, it took him a moment to recognize the voices he was hearing. On hands and knees, Mithias tried will all his might to be as small and unnoticeable as possible. He was still sane... wasn't he?