Perhaps overly provoked, Abu's terrifying form suddenly burst asunder, dissipating into a wisp of vapor.

  Glen's laughter halted mid - stream. "Was it enraged to the point of annihilation? Nay, it was already deceased. Now, it ought to be completely obliterated."

  Yet, he had misjudged, for Abu's malevolent spirit coalesced anew in another locale, continuing to heap curses upon Glen without cease.

  These malevolent spirits are truly peculiar. Why do I feel an impetus to conduct research on them? As Glen felt his mind buffeted by diverse mental surges, he persisted in his descent.

  At length, he arrived at a contaminated region that even the malevolent spirits dared not approach.

  His feet alighted upon an unknown, yielding surface. The darkness was so profound that even Glen, endowed with a modicum of night - vision prowess, could scarce discern his surroundings.

  Perchance due to some arcane reason, he was precluded from perceiving the ambient environment.

  He could but grope forward with his corporeal form, in search of another passage leading downward.

  It is most curious. Why can I not detect even a hint of noxious odor? Moreover, my mind feels curiously adrift, and the characteristic ferocity of a werewolf has abated considerably... Glen mused incessantly, probing the expanse ahead like a sightless individual.

  Abruptly, he felt a pair of diminutive hands clasp his index finger, arresting his movement.

  After a brief interval, discerning no further activity from the tiny hands, Glen endeavored to draw them upward.

  With but a gentle squeeze, Glen discerned what it was.

  It was a discarded rag doll, presumably cast aside by an erstwhile inhabitant of Bayek town ages past.

  He was on the verge of casting it aside, yet after several attempts, the rag doll clung tenaciously to his index finger, refusing to relinquish its hold.

  What could be the cause? Glen sought to employ his other hand to extricate it, yet an intense sense of grievance was transmitted to his mind through contact with the rag doll.

  This object is animate!

  He brought the rag doll close to his ear and, to his astonishment, heard a voice - that of a young girl:

  "Pray... pray... take me hence from this place..."

  This... Glen was momentarily transfixed.

  The voice bespoke of utter helplessness and piteousness, akin to that of a one - or two - year - old child forsaken by its elders, bereft of the means to survive, yearning desperately for deliverance.

  In the end, Glen merely placed the rag doll upon the nape of his neck. Should it fall of its own accord or be inadvertently destroyed whilst he was eradicating the malignancy, he could not be held accountable.

  After further exploration of this locale, he encountered no additional animate beings, yet his mind grew increasingly clouded, as if on the verge of slumber at any moment.

  Fortuitously, Glen boasted extensive experience in nocturnal vigils and was thus able to endure.

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  Finally, he chanced upon a passage leading downward and, without hesitation, descended into it.

  The passage varied in dimensions, yet was passable for Glen.

  A curious commotion emanated from ahead, reminiscent of something writhing rhythmically.

  Just as Glen was on the verge of speculating, his body plummeted precipitously!

  There was naught around him to grasp, and he seemed to have been instantaneously transported to a void.

  As he braced himself for the potential impact of landing, he discovered that he had alighted upon a colossal, writhing mass of flesh.

  The surface of the fleshy mass boasted intricate protuberances resembling sinews, exuding a vivid scarlet sheen.

  It would seem I have reached my destination... Glen gazed downward at the fleshy mass beneath his feet, feeling it. It appeared to be quite resilient.

  He now felt as though he were standing upon a living asteroid. The limits of his vision were engulfed by darkness, and he could but perceive the arcuate outline of the fleshy mass.

  "Very well, the query now stands: how ought I to deal with this entity?" Glen murmured, as if conversing with himself.

  The most straightforward approach would be to raze this fleshy sphere to the ground, yet there is no certainty that such an action would yield the desired outcome.

  Exercise caution, Glen resolved to first explore the entirety of its visage.

  Thus, he slid downward along the surface of the fleshy mass. However, the scene below caused his eyes to widen in shock.

  For upon the ground beneath the fleshy mass, there were a pair of remarkably vivid human eyes, fixated unblinkingly upon Glen as he descended.

  These eyes were of prodigious size; the eyeballs were likely scarcely smaller than the fleshy mass itself.

  Ordinarily, the appearance of a pair of colossal eyes would not have startled Glen, yet these eyes, aside from their size, were disconcertingly normal.

  Normal eyelashes, dark - brown irises, jet - black pupils, and blood - shot sclerae.

  This unremarkable visage instilled in Glen an inexplicable sense of physical discomfort. He felt as if he were standing upon the visage of a giant.

  However, the other regions were patently rock and soil, not skin at all.

  Glen clutched the surface of the fleshy mass with his claws, preventing his descent to the ground below. He engaged in a protracted stare with those eyes.

  The two pairs of eyes blinked in turn, and the only sound in the still air was the writhing of the fleshy mass.

  Finally, Glen wearied of the standoff. Since the other party remained inactive, he resolved to prod the eyeball that had been regarding him.

  His steel claws descended with sudden force, plunging straight towards one of the massive eyeballs.

  Squelch!

  To his surprise, Glen successfully pierced the colossal eyeball. The entity attempted to close its eye, yet the claws pierced through the eyelid as well.

  The surroundings quaked violently, and a sound akin to a lament issued from the fleshy mass behind him.

  Before Glen could turn to look, he was propelled through the air by a force of immense magnitude!

  His Level - 3 werewolf form was instantaneously rent asunder, crashing into an uneven rock face.

  Enduring the excruciating pain, Glen immediately summoned his werewolf venom. New limbs sprouted from the region of his head, and he transformed into a Level - 5 werewolf.

  The Flaming Fang materialized upon his newly - formed hands. This item, having recognized its master, would only adhere to the host body.

  The attack just now, resembling a sonic wave emitted by the fleshy mass, was of such potency? Glen felt a faint sense of unease.

  This time, it seemed he had roused something of great import.

  The blood vessels of the fleshy mass ahead glowed a brilliant red, then it ascended slowly. Countless filaments were extricated from below, and a metallic sheen glinted amidst them.

  Glen scrutinized them closely and discerned what appeared to be a shard of metal, inscribed with characters.

  Upon closer inspection of those characters, Glen's eyeballs burst with a resounding pop, and he once again experienced the sensation of having his eyes pierced.

  Again? Glen cursed inwardly, striving to repair the damage to his eyes with all his might.

  In that moment, countless filaments pierced his body in an instant. They seemed to possess some latent power and commenced siphoning his blood.

  Even the werewolf venom mingled within lost its efficacy, becoming nourishment for the master of the filaments.

  This force once more exceeded Glen's expectations.

  Even when he employed the claws fashioned from the Flaming Fang to sever those filaments, not one could be sundered.

  There remained a disparity in their strength.

  Then he would ascend yet another tier. Glen transformed into a Level - 7 werewolf!

  A dense pall of cursed black smoke billowed forth, and only then did the filaments, as if sensing a threat, withdraw from Glen's body one by one.