Alexander finally came to the Dark Mage camp. It was sad that they wielded the same power that he did, but his power was far greater than that of a standard dark mage. Which would explain why it hurt every time he cast his spells. It was eating away at him, but as long as he remembered who he was and what he fought for, then the darkness would not consume him.
His mind went back to the one thing he fought for: to keep his love safe. He met her on one of his travels. She was named Gwendolyn Winterhaven. Such a lovely name. But when he met her, she was the target of cruelty by the depraved and the incompetent. They threw fruit and vegetables at her, they kicked her and spit on her. He asked them why they treated her in such a way, and the response was that she was an outcast and was hated because of her otherworldly beauty. But he never saw her as otherworldly. He saw her as the poor yet beautiful woman that she was. He took her from that place, washed her, mended her wounds, encouraged her. Then he left her, knowing that he could not force his love on her.
Then she saved his life. He fought a bunch of dark mages, but they managed to wound him. He thought that that was the end, but then Gwendolyn found him, brought him back, and tended him as he had tended her. He had never believed in gods before then, but that moment changed his attitude. For she surely was made for him... and he for her.
But now, he fought to protect what he loved, and the way the dark mages attack and destroy without hesitation was a threat to what he loved. And he would not rest until every single dark mage was burned to ashes and scattered to the four winds. He readied his sword and attacked.
The mages were surprised by the sudden attack, and that single moment was all that he needed. Before they could regroup and retaliate, he had already killed a fourth of the entire force. Their dark magic hardly phased him. He was made to kill them. His power was born from theirs, and it would take stronger magic than a single dark mage alone can cast to bring him down.
It seems they came to that conclusion when he destroyed another fourth of their forces. They began to cast magic in unison, which made it harder to approach them. Alexander saw no way to advance, so he decided then and there that now was a good time to use his power.
He focused his dark magic into his sword, and it was suddenly engulfed in a purple mist of darkness. He then charged forward, and used his sword to deflect every dark spell cast at him... straight back. Dozens of mages were fried by their own dark power, and a smile curled upon Alexander's lips beneath his helmet. This was what he did, and this was why he was known as the Black Knight. A whole camp filled with 50 dark mages couldn't stop his wrath. They were powerless before him.
Or so he thought.
One lucky shot got through his defenses and caused him to back off. This opportunity was all the mages needed to retreat. Alexander screamed in anger. He would not allow them to escape...
And yet they did. He was furious. He turned to the campsite and set tree branches into the still burning fire. He then made a line of wood straight to their tents, their food supplies (after he stole a few of their rations for himself), everything they could use, and let it burn.
"At least they won't be able to use this campsite again," Alex said to himself, in an attempt to calm himself down. He normally wasn't like this, but whenever there stood a threat to what he cared about, he was always a bit on edge.