Chapter 5: The Defeat

Azazel charged at the figure, his sword held high, ready to fight for the fate of Arvandor. But as he approached, he could feel a wave of dark energy emanating from the figure. He knew that this would not be an easy battle.

The figure stood before him, towering over him with an air of malevolence. It was a dark elf, with black armor and a twisted, evil face. He wielded a long, jagged sword in one hand, but he only used it to deflect Azazel's attacks.

Azazel tried to strike the dark elf with his sword, but every blow was parried with ease. The dark elf moved with a grace and speed that defied belief, his movements almost fluid as he danced around Azazel.

The dark elf struck at Azazel with his free hand, sending him tumbling to the ground. Azazel tried to get up, but he was quickly knocked down again. He could feel his strength fading, his magic ebbing away.

The dark elf stood over him, a cruel grin on his face. "You are weak," he taunted. "You are no match for me."

Azazel struggled to get up, but he could feel his body giving out. He knew that this battle was lost, but he refused to give up.

He summoned all of his remaining magic, channeling it into his sword. With a burst of energy, he struck at the dark elf with a powerful blow.

The dark elf was caught off guard, and he stumbled back. But he quickly recovered, and he struck back with a devastating blow. Azazel was knocked unconscious, his body falling to the ground.

When he woke up, he was lying in a bed in the village. He could feel the pain in his body, and he knew that he had lost the battle. But he also knew that he had to get stronger, to gain more power and learn the magic that dwelled deep inside him.

He knew that he had a long journey ahead of him, but he was determined to become stronger and defeat the darkness that threatened Arvandor. He would do whatever it takes to protect this world, no matter the cost.