Without the remnants of the spell, or the opponent himself, supporting him, Perón falls the rest of the way to the ground, but rolls onto his back and sits up as quickly as he can. He's breathing hard, and already knows he's going to be limping badly for at least a week, but he cannot afford to present himself as a target for any others that might see him. The blade is wet with blood, as is Perón's hand and arm, but his grip is solid, and he's ready to go for his gun as well if need be.