Dark Lord: Rise to Power

The cavern was now eerily silent. The only sound that could be heard right now was the heavy breathing of the elf warrior and Arin. Blood dripped from the elf warrior's side, staining the ground beneath her. Arin, clutching his wounded shoulder, took a deep, ragged breath. His eyes never left the elf warrior's.

With a snarl, Arin launched himself at the elf warrior. His twin daggers glinted in the dim light, aiming for her throat. She barely managed to raise her sword in time, deflecting his attack with a resounding clash. Sparks flew as their blades met. Arin had put entire weight of his body on his Twin Fangs. Although the lady had stopped his vicious onslaught, but the force of the impact sent vibrations through her arms.

Arin was relentless. Just like in his previous life he had fought his first his gang war swinging a switchblade like a crazy and hurting everyone around; it seemed that past self of his had taken control of his current body's motor function. Today Arin was fighting in the very same manner. But this time his strikes were more polished, more precise. He aimed a series of quick, brutal strikes at her, each one intended to find a gap in her weakened armor. But she was not an opponent to trifle with either. Like a veteran, she was parrying and blocking his repeated attacks as best she could. However, she was already exhausted since the beginning. Now, the sheer ferocity of his assault left her struggling to keep up.

The more Arin was fighting, the more he was regaining his street fighting skill, which most of the times had no rules, and used whatever tactics he thought would give him an edge, including dirty tricks and feints. She was not used to such fighting techniques. Suddenly, Arin feinted to the left, then spun to the right, driving one of his daggers deep into her thigh. She cried out in pain, her leg buckling under her. Arin twisted the blade, causing her to gasp and stumble. He pulled the dagger free, a sickening smile on his face.

Desperation gave the elf warrior strength. She swung her sword in a wide arc, forcing Arin to jump back. She was proving again and again, her experience and higher level had its own advantage. She gritted her teeth against the pain in her leg and pressed forward. With her sword she had created a whirlwind of steel.

But Arin was prepared as well. To an observer, it might appear as if he was being forced to defend, as his daggers were moving with lightning speed to block her strikes. But he wasn't just defending. He was rather waiting for his moment.

With a flick of his wrist, he again cast an 'Erode' curse on her, "By the power that eats stone and time's chime, I bind you to weaken, defenses in decline." Her armor, already battered, seemed to grow even weaker. He lunged again; his daggers aimed for her heart. She blocked one, but the other found a gap in her already deteriorated armor, slicing into her side. She bit back a scream, her vision swimming with pain.

Arin pulled back, breathing heavily. His own wounds were taking their toll. He wiped sweat from his brow, his eyes never leaving her. The elf warrior, gasping for breath, raised her sword once more.

Then, with a guttural roar, she charged at him. Her sword was a blur, her strikes fueled by pain and desperation. Arin was driven back, barely managing to block her furious assault. He stumbled, his back hitting the cavern wall.

Seeing her chance, the elf warrior raised her sword high, ready to deliver the final blow. But in that split second, Arin's hand shot out, as another dark curse was forming on his lips, "From shadows deep and moonlit night; Your essence fades, your strength takes flight. With whispered words, your life I drain; To fuel my soul, your loss, my gain." He had casted a vicious life drain spell, the dark energy latching onto her. She screamed as her strength was being sapped away, her sword dropping from her hands.

Arin's victory seemed assured, but in her final moments of strength, the elf warrior managed to summon one last, desperate attack. With a roar, she lunged at him, her fists flying. She struck him again and again, her blows fueled by pure rage and desperation.

Arin was caught off guard by her ferocity. He was forced to defend himself with his daggers. Although he was blocking her punches, but her relentless assaults was leaving him bruised and bleeding. Finally, with a snarl, he drove one of his daggers into her chest. She gasped, her eyes wide with shock and pain. Arin twisted the blade, ensuring the fatal wound.

The elf warrior's body went limp, her strength finally spent. Arin pulled his dagger free, watching as she crumbled to the ground. He staggered back, clutching his numerous injuries. His victory had come at a great cost.

Fluorescent green blood was dripping from his wounds, staining his cloth armor. He leaned against the cavern wall, breathing heavily. Suddenly the subterranean chamber of the cave felt suffocating to him. He was desperately gasping for air. The elf warrior was laying motionless on the ground, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. The cavern, once filled with the sounds of battle, was now eerily silent.

Arin knew he had won, but he was far from unscathed. His body ached, every movement sending waves of pain through him. He looked down at his blood-stained daggers, a grim smile on his face. He had triumphed, but barely.

With a final, pained breath, he began to sit up on the floor. His breathing was heavy, each one a reminder of the brutal battle he had just endured. He knew he would need time to heal, to recover from the injuries he had sustained. But for now, he had won.

The cavern, now silent and still, bore witness to the fierce battle that had taken place within its depths. Arin's victory was hard-fought, and the scars he bore were a testament to the brutal, unforgiving nature of the fight. As he looked around, the cavern was left in silence, a silent monument to the fierce struggle and the fallen warrior who had fought with all her might.