Jack, being Jack, strikes swiftly. It feels like a pinch, and then Magnus's body is flooding with the heat that always follows an injury, so fierce and distracting he barely makes out the soft sound of a dislodged toe hitting porcelain. "Fuck," he breathes, choking back a groan and then wondering why he's bothering to swallow the noise -- it's not like he's trying to keep a second arrow from hitting somewhere fatal during Battle Practice so he can swing his practice sword at a few more einherjar before he succumbs. "Holy Helheim. Ow." He grits his teeth and opens his eyes. Yup, there's a bloody toe-stump at the end of his foot. Wait, where did his toe go?