There's a sickening squelch as the weapon is pulled out from the gaping, open wound, and more blood spills with it. It's coming so thick that it almost looks black, it's flowing so fast. Even without an enemy here to kill him, Kain definitely wouldn't be lasting long. Which could be for the best, considering the level of pain he's in.

His face has grown pale, skin clammy. He can taste blood in the back of his throat. Hand twitching over his weapon, for a brief moment, Kain just barely manages to touch it, finding that he can no longer tighten his hand to pick it up. He always says, if he can stand and he can hold a weapon, then he can fight. But if he can't do either... well... there's no more certain sign of impending death.

"...this hardly... makes you... better..." Gasping for air, he manages to choke the words out, eyes focused on that axe blade coated in his blood. "...fortune gave you... the better weapon... the lucky blow..."