Battle for the Oasis

A day had passed, marked by a long, sleepless night. United in vigilance, the Luminals and humans steadfastly took their positions, guarding their posts with unwavering resolve.
    The Mal’ak leaders had spread themselves across the area, ensuring that every approach to the Oasis Cavern was fortified. S’jarre had taken the main entrance in the south. Zar’iel held the southwestern flank. D’raen stood guard on the southeastern side, his warriors prepared to intercept any encroaching threats. Enn’ary held the western flank, his sharp-eyed vigilance bolstered by seasoned fighters. Ith’iel was positioned on the eastern front, steady as ever, while Syl’arn took the northeastern post, his unit prepared to counter any surprise maneuvers.
    Jazz tightened his grip on his Echo sword, he stood beside Zar’iel, whose imposing figure seemed to radiate a quiet confidence that steadied those around him. The archers from Skyward Cavern were alert, their eyes scanning the horizon, while the Luminals from the various caverns worked together seamlessly.
    As the first light of dawn began to creep across the horizon, a deep, resonating horn shattered the fragile silence. The sound was mournful and unrelenting, carrying over the desert sands like an omen of doom. Heads turned toward the south, where shadows stirred and the first glimmers of movement became visible.
    Far to the south, the black army of At’tar slowly came into view. The soldiers marched in perfect unison, a dark mass stretching across the horizon. Their polished armor catching the faint rays of sunlight and reflecting them like shards of a broken mirror. The ground seemed to tremble beneath their relentless advance, a harbinger of the chaos to come.
    Jazz felt his breath hitch as he took in the sight. The sheer scale of the approaching force was staggering, a tide of darkness threatening to engulf everything in its path.
    Zar’iel’s voice cut through the tense stillness, calm but commanding. “Steady yourselves. This is only the beginning.”
    As the black army approached, their formation began to shift. The once tightly packed mass of soldiers scattered slowly, deliberate and methodical in their movements. Units peeled away from the main force, spreading out like dark tendrils across the desert. Step by step, they maneuvered into position, encircling the Oasis Cavern from all sides.
    Their intent was unmistakable—this was no simple march. It was a calculated siege, designed to ensure that no one within the cavern could escape. 
    From their vantage points, the defenders of the cavern could see the strategy unfold. Each soldier moved with purpose, their positioning precise, their discipline unwavering. The realization sank in like a heavy weight: they were surrounded. There would be no retreat, no easy way out.
    The black army, previously a relentless wave of dark, swirling figures, came to an unexpected halt. The eerie silence that followed seemed to stretch for an agonizing moment. The ground beneath them trembled slightly, and then, as if on cue, a deep, resonant horn blared from the center of the army. The sound was deafening, a call to arms that seemed to echo across the desolate land. At its signal, gore hounds began to dart out from the ranks of the black army, running fiercely in every direction. Their glowing eyes gleamed with hunger, and their slavering mouths dripped with venomous saliva, eager for the chase.
    From every surrounding location, more and more of the gore hounds emerged, their snarls and growls filling the air. The earth seemed to quake with their stampede as they tore across the terrain, eyes trained on Oasis Cavern, where the defenders stood firm and ready.
    On top of the towering walls of Oasis Cavern, the Mal’ak archers swiftly positioned themselves, their skilled hands drawing back their bows with practiced precision. They waited, calculating the exact moment when the creatures would enter their firing range. The air was thick with tension, every eye trained on the rapidly approaching horde. The archers remained still, their gaze unflinching as they tracked the movements of the gore hounds, waiting for the perfect angle to unleash their deadly projectiles.
    Then, with a series of sharp commands, the archers released their arrows. They soared through the air, glowing with a brilliant, otherworldly light, leaving a trail of sparks in their wake. The arrows whistled through the tense silence before raining down upon the attacking gore hounds. With a sudden, deafening crack, the arrows found their marks, striking the beasts with pinpoint accuracy. Each arrow exploded in a burst of light on impact, illuminating the darkened landscape with their radiant glow.
    The gore hounds howled in pain and fury, their bodies writhing as the arrows tore into their flesh. But they were relentless, undeterred by the deadly barrage. The Mal’ak archers, undaunted, continued their assault, sending wave after wave of glowing arrows into the fray. The air around Oasis Cavern buzzed with the deadly dance of light and shadows, as the archers and the hounds clashed in a brutal game of survival.
    As the gore hounds advanced with terrifying speed, the black army, witnessing the beasts’ ferocity, erupted into a deafening battle cry. The sound of their collective shout reverberated across the battlefield—a signal to charge, a call to unleash their fury. The horde of soldiers, their eyes burning with bloodlust, surged forward like a tide of darkness, weapons drawn and ready.
    With a fearsome, synchronized roar, they moved as one, their footsteps pounding against the earth as they stormed toward the walls of Oasis Cavern. Each soldier wielded their Echoes with lethal intent—those armed with swords summoned their shimmering blades, while others raised their shields, crafted from dark, enchanted materials. The air was filled with a storm of weaponry as the black army clashed with the defenders, their Echoes working in harmony to block incoming arrows.
    The Mal’ak archers, perched high above, continued to fire their glowing arrows with deadly precision. But the black army was not without its own defenses. Some soldiers, their weapons manifesting in response to their command, raised shields of crackling energy, diverting the glowing arrows that rained down upon them. Others deflected the arrows with swords, their blades glowing purple and black as they met the projectiles midair, causing a cascade of sparks to explode into the darkened sky.
    But the battle was not without its horrors. In certain angles, the gore hounds, undeterred by the barrage of arrows, began to scale the walls of Oasis Cavern. Their claws dug into the stone with frightening speed, scraping and tearing at the surface as they ascended. The sharp, grating sound of their claws scraping against the stone echoed in the ears of the defenders. Their eyes locked onto the archers, their gnashing teeth and vicious snarls promising a deadly end.
    Meanwhile, some of the black army’s soldiers—clad in their dark armor—unleashed their own arrows. These arrows, tainted with purple and black energy, whistled through the air with an ominous hum. 
    The defenders fought fiercely, their weapons singing through the air, but the black army and the horde of gore hounds pressed in from all sides. The walls shook with the violence of the assault, and the air was thick with the sounds of war.
    Jazz stood at the edge of the wall, his Echo sword gripped tightly in his hand, waiting. The sounds of the battle erupted around him—the clash of weapons, the cries of war, the eerie howls of the gore hounds—but he remained still, his focus sharp. He scanned the battlefield, eyes darting from one point to another, ready to defend the wall at any moment.
    Then, amidst the chaos, he saw it: a gore hound, climbing with monstrous speed. Its claws dug into the stone, pulling itself upward with a ferocity that made the ground tremble. Jazz tensed, his muscles coiling, his feet shifting in preparation to dash forward and intercept the creature. But before he could make his move, the hound lunged—its body arching through the air, aiming straight for a Mal’ak archer, who stood unsuspecting on the edge of the wall.
    Time seemed to slow as Jazz’s instincts kicked in. He was about to charge, but then, just before the gore hound could land on its prey, it let out a deafening howl. The sound echoed in the air, chilling to the bone. Jazz watched in awe as the creature plummeted from the sky, its body twisting as it fell lifeless to the ground.
    At that moment, he saw him—Zar’iel, the Mal’ak leader, standing tall and unwavering, his Echo sword gleaming with a red glow that burned with a fierceness unlike anything Jazz had ever seen. In one swift, fluid motion, Zar’iel had sliced through the gore hound midair, cleaving it in two with a single, powerful blow.
    Jazz couldn’t help but marvel at the precision and power Zar’iel wielded. The Mal’ak leader had cut down the creature effortlessly, a force of nature in his own right. For a moment, he stood there, awe-struck, watching the leader of the Mal’aks in action.
    But then, Zar’iel's voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding: “Another one behind you, Jazz!”
    Jazz snapped out of his daze, his eyes widening as he quickly turned to face the threat.
    Another gore hound, its eyes burning with hunger, came charging at Jazz with terrifying speed. Its claws scraped the ground, sending up sparks as it raced toward him, mouth agape in a blood-curdling snarl. Jazz didn’t flinch. He could feel the weight of his Echo sword in his hand.
    Without hesitation, he swung the sword in a wide arc, cutting through the air. The blade’s energy surged with a fierce blue light, and a wave of concentrated power erupted from the tip, shooting forward in a sharp, crackling arc. The wave struck the gore hound with an explosion of sound, a loud, piercing cry filling the air as the creature was sent flying back, its body tumbling through the air before crashing hard into the ground several feet away.
    Jazz waited to see whether the beast would rise again, then with a snarl of fury, the gore hound staggered back onto its feet, its eyes glowing with hatred. It was wounded, but not defeated. The creature let out another chilling growl, blood dripping from its wounds, as it prepared to charge once more.
    Jazz didn’t wait. With swift, practiced steps, he rushed toward the beast, his sword raised and ready. The gore hound matched his speed, its teeth bared, and with a blood-curdling snarl, it launched itself at him, jaws snapping. But Jazz was faster. With a swift motion, he slid down beneath the creature, dropping to the ground in a low, controlled crouch.
    As he slid across, he brought his Echo sword up, cutting through the underbelly of the gore hound with a fluid motion. The blade sliced through flesh and bone with ease, and the hound let out a final, guttural scream before collapsing. Jazz slid to a stop, his sword dripping with dark, viscous blood. The gore hound’s body twitched a few times before going still, lifeless.
    Jazz stood, breathing heavily, his heart pounding in his chest. The adrenaline of the moment still coursed through him, but he couldn’t afford to linger. The battle raged on, and he was ready for whatever came next.
    Another gore hound made a swift, ferocious leap from the wall. But Jazz was ready. With a fluid motion, he swung his sword once more, releasing a powerful wave of energy from its edge. The blue light shot forward like a crashing tide, slamming into the beast midair and sending it sprawling backward, beyond the wall.
    Jazz barely had time to process the success of his strike before his gaze was drawn elsewhere. He saw a Mal’ak archer fall, the sound of his body hitting the stone floor echoing in the chaos of the battlefield. He saw the dark purple arrow that had struck the archer, its sinister glow still lingering in the air. His heart raced as he saw the fallen soldier, but before he could dash to help, a sudden movement caught his attention. A corrupted Mal’ak had climbed the wall and was now standing in front of him. The corrupted soldier’s eyes blazed with an unnatural fury, and he wielded a dark purple sword, its edge glowing with an ominous, pulsing light. Jazz’s grip on his own sword tightened as the corrupted Mal’ak’s gaze locked onto him with a predatory intensity. The figure charged at him with unnatural speed, its sword raised high.
    Jazz’s instincts kicked in. He parried the first strike, the clash of metal ringing in the air, the corrupted Mal’ak’s sword sparking against his own. The force of the blow reverberated through his body, but he held his ground. The corrupted soldier swung again, a flurry of strikes designed to overwhelm him. Jazz danced back, parrying each blow with swift, precise movements, his sword flicking through the air like a blur.
    The two warriors moved in a deadly dance, swords flashing in the dim light of the battlefield, their blades singing as they met and clashed in rapid succession. Jazz’s strikes were calculated, each one aimed to find an opening, but the corrupted Mal’ak was fast, his sword a dark blur as it sliced through the air. Their swords clashed with such force that sparks flew, the sound of steel meeting steel echoing over the din of battle.
    Neither one scored a hit—each parry met with a counterstrike, each attack a brush of steel against steel. The tension was palpable, and for a moment, it felt like time itself had slowed. Jazz could feel the weight of the fight, the adrenaline surging through his veins, pushing him to stay sharp.
    As Jazz continued to clash swords with the corrupted Mal’ak, a sudden, strange sensation washed over him—a tugging, faint but undeniable. It was like a pulse, a connection from deep within, as though his Echo was reaching out to him again. It reminded him of the first time he discovered the wave attack, that odd feeling of power flowing into him, an instinctive connection to his Echo that he had barely begun to understand. This time, the sensation was stronger, more focused.
    Jazz focused, tuning out everything else around him, concentrating solely on the fight. With a sharp swing, he met the corrupted Mal’ak’s sword, the clash of metal ringing in his ears. He pushed forward with all his strength, driving the enemy back, his muscles straining. The corrupted soldier was forced back a few feet, staggering from the sheer force of the blow.
    But then, something shifted. Jazz felt a surge, an unexpected rush of energy. It began in his hand, but it wasn’t just his strength—it was something more, something elemental. His Echo was feeding into him, a rush of power that surged through him like lightning. Without warning, the sword in his hand started to change, twisting and shifting as the energy flowed into it. The blade morphed, reshaping itself into a glowing blue orb. The orb pulsed with energy, and in the blink of an eye, it exploded, sending out a wave of blue fire orbs that surrounded him like a shield barrier.
    Jazz couldn’t help but smile, a thrill coursing through him. It was the same technique his mentor, Professor Mackenzie, had used when he was still alive. His heart raced with excitement as the orbs spun around him, glowing fiercely in the heat of battle. He could feel the power surging, the familiar hum of energy that accompanied the technique. Jazz felt empowered—a sense of control and mastery over his Echo that he had never experienced before.
    The corrupted Mal’ak showed no hesitation, its fierce gaze locked on Jazz as it dashed forward once more, its dark purple sword raised high. With a swift, powerful swing, it aimed for Jazz, but the glowing orbs surrounding him reacted instantly. The blade never reached its target, colliding instead with the fiery blue shield. Sparks flew as the impact sent a ripple of energy through the air.
    Jazz felt it then—a surge, raw and unrelenting, flowing from the orbs back into him, amplifying his strength. The orbs grew brighter, their light pulsing violently. One by one, they lashed out at the corrupted Mal’ak, striking it with relentless force. The creature staggered, its blade raised in a desperate attempt to block the onslaught, but the energy was too much. Each impact pushed it back, the sheer power of the strikes overwhelming its defenses.
    With one final, crushing blow, the orbs erupted in a blinding display, slamming into the corrupted Mal’ak. It collapsed to the ground in a heap, its sword falling from its grip as the fight drained out of it. Jazz stood there, breathing heavily, the remnants of the glowing orbs flickering faintly around him.
    Suddenly, a deafening sound tore through the chaos of battle—a thunderous explosion that shook the very ground beneath Jazz’s feet. Before he could react, a powerful force slammed into him, throwing him through the air. He hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind out of him as he skidded to a stop amidst the rubble.
    His ears were ringing, a high-pitched whine drowning out all other noise. Disoriented, he struggled to push himself up, his vision blurred and his limbs trembling. Dust filled the air, making it hard to breathe, but as the haze began to clear, he froze at the sight before him.
    The wall where he and the other defenders had been standing was gone—obliterated. Massive chunks of stone lay scattered across the ground, and through the gaping breach, the dark armies surged forward like a relentless tide. Gore hounds snarled and darted ahead, their claws raking against the shattered ground, while At’tar’s soldiers poured in behind them, weapons raised and voices shouting their fierce battle cries.
    Jazz’s heart pounded as he scrambled to his feet. The enemy had breached their defenses, and the battle for the Oasis Cavern had taken a dire turn.