There's as much resistance as one would expect flesh to have, as insubstantial as the eyes might suggest he is. And indeed, the shadow bleeds... More profusely than one might expect, from an uneven and rather shallow cut. It spills from his side, more vividly red than the waking mind could perceive, accomplished by a hoarse roar of shock and rage.

Now, when the walls are turning to mist, might be a good time to run.