Mikael stepped after The Weeper, his knife rallied to slash down upon the swordsman as he made distance -- or at least were his intentions, as his hasted movement brought torment upon him like never before.
He held frozen on the spot, needing the entirety of his strength just to stay standing. To make a sudden motion with a sword going through him was an act which he instantly regretted. His blood was running more freely now, as an inch-thick puddle of the vile substance encircled his feet. Every involuntary movement only widened his wound, causing anguish beyond his comprehension. 
His knife was tossed to the side such that he could take hold of the sword's hilt; alas, he had not the focus to steady it, nor the strength to extract it from himself. His consciousness had not faded in the slightest, and the trauma only drove him further towards a state of helplessness. Against his will he crashed onto one knee, and succumbed to a kneel soon after. 

Three fingers held limply from a monstrous mass of destructive energy, overshadowing its caster with its foreboding purple haze. The sphere had grown to twice as large as Mikael was tall. It made him smirk at the very sight of it, despite how much it pained him to do so. It was a shallow consolation, but perhaps he would leave his mark after all.
Still he watched the fleeting victor, for this was simply all he could do. He glanced down with contracted eyes, observing the simplistic instrument of his undoing. Perhaps his actions had been justified, but to Mikael, there was but one deduction which bore importance to him. 

'[i]He fears death as much as I do.[/i]'

His body jolted, accompanied by abhorrent groans and splatters. His arm withdrew against his chest, as if the action had the slightest chance of prolonging his life. It was not an end he was content with, but neither one he could be completely ashamed of. Inevitably, his parting breath took the form of a single word, uttered with the same pitying tone he used upon meeting his killer.

"...Hypocrite."

The ground quaked with a violent uproar of shards and dust, bellowing in abundance above the valley. A magenta blaze lit the very clouds, and a crackle of residual sparks showered upon the stony battlefield.