Rappelling down the sheer, obsidian walls of the chasm was no picnic. Even with enchanted climbing gear courtesy of the blacksmith clones, the descent was a nerve-wracking affair. Mark glanced down at the writhing mass of darkness far below, the air thick with an oppressive miasma that clung to his throat like a shroud.

They reached the bottom with a bone-jarring thud. The stench that greeted them was a symphony of decay and brimstone, enough to turn even the most seasoned warrior's stomach. In the flickering light of their glowing orbs, a sight both horrifying and awe-inspiring unfolded before them.

The ancient evil. It was a monstrosity of impossible proportions, a writhing mass of obsidian flesh studded with glowing eyes and gnashing maws. Tendrils, thick as ancient trees, lashed out at the cavern walls, their touch leaving behind trails of corrupting black slime. The very air crackled with its malevolent energy, threatening to crush their resolve in its oppressive grip.

"Alright clones," Mark bellowed, his voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in his legs, "showtime!"

The response was immediate. Blacksmith clones, their muscles rippling beneath their magically hardened leather armor, charged forward, enchanted blades glinting in the gloom. They clashed with the flailing tentacles, sparks erupting with each clang of metal on obsidian. Alchemist clones, a motley crew adorned in mismatched lab coats and goggles, hurled vials of their concoctions. Each vial exploded in a vibrant display of pyrotechnics, showering the entity with noxious fumes and blinding light. Mage clones, levitating amidst the chaos, unleashed a torrent of spells. Bolts of fire and lightning danced across the cavern, illuminating the grotesque form of their enemy.

Mark, perched atop a precarious rock formation, functioned as a twisted battlefield conductor. He barked out orders, his voice a beacon of coordination amidst the cacophony. "Swordsman five, flank that left tentacle! Mage squad three, target those glowing eye stalks! Don't worry about collateral damage, that thing looks like it could use a good facial!" A wry smile tugged at his lips despite the grim situation.

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The battle was a whirlwind of controlled chaos. Despite their sheer numbers, the clones were not invincible. The ancient evil, lashing out with blind fury, swatted them away like flies. Mark watched in horror as a warrior clone was snatched by a gaping maw, his scream echoing through the cavern before being abruptly cut short. A pang of grief lanced through him, a stark reminder of the cost of this fight.

But amidst the carnage, unexpected heroes emerged. A baker clone, wielding a magically enhanced rolling pin gifted by the blacksmiths, managed to disrupt the entity's balance with a well-placed strike to a particularly fleshy protuberance. A librarian clone, armed with arcane knowledge gleaned from the Tower's archives, identified weak points in the beast's form, barking out crucial intel to Mark's strategizing mind.

Slowly, but surely, a glimmer of hope flickered to life. The relentless assault by the clones began to show results. Chunks of the entity's grotesque flesh were sheared off, its enraged roars echoing through the cavern. Mark watched, a surge of pride battling with the ever-present worry gnawing at him. They might actually pull this off.

Just as momentum started to shift in their favor, Mark noticed a change in the entity's tactics. It began focusing its attacks on the healer clones, clearly sensing their potential to tip the scales. This called for a change of plans.

"Alright clones," Mark yelled, his voice straining to be heard over the din of battle, "we need a diversion! Warrior clones, create a wall of steel! Scout clones, flank and harass those tentacles! Now!"

The clones responded with practiced efficiency. A wall of steel materialized, drawing the entity's attention while the scout clones, nimble and agile, danced around its periphery, harassing its vulnerable underbelly. This created a narrow window of opportunity for the healer clones.

With a desperate surge of courage, they charged towards the pulsating orb of malevolent energy that served as the entity's core. But just as they reached striking distance, a monstrous tentacle lashed out, its obsidian tip aimed squarely at the lead healer.

The chapter ends with a sickening crack, the world erupting in a slow-motion blur. The fate of the healer, and perhaps the entire mission, hangs in the balance.