With searing flames licking his arms, the mighty Level - 7 werewolf, veiled in billowing black smoke, hurtled towards the gargantuan, grotesquely - shaped fleshy orb.

  However, upon nearing to a certain proximity, Glen was assailed by an acute sense of discomfort, both corporeal and mental.

  Yet, the assault he had long readied was not to be stayed.

  The Dragon's Breath Blade, potent enough to obliterate this very space, struck the fleshy orb at close range. But it merely caused the orb to lurch backward, seemingly inflicting little damage.

  The other flames that burst forth illuminated the darkness, yet lacked the cataclysmic might one might have anticipated.

  This left Glen astounded. He surmised that even the Flaming Fang in its apogee, in the form of a bone dragon, could scarcely have withstood such a close - range strike with ease.

  Indeed, I've roused a formidable entity! He reaffirmed this in his mind.

  The fleshy orb before him was likely of Level - 8 puissance, and it remained uncertain whether this was its true form, for the entire space here seemed amiss.

  After the strike, the gauntlet entered its cooldown phase, rendering him unable to unleash its most potent attack anew. He could only rely on its innate sharpness for further assaults.

  The fleshy orb seemed to assail solely with its tentacle - like filaments, yet their velocity was astonishingly swift. Even Glen in his Level - 7 form struggled to evade them.

  Having just evaded several filament thrusts, Glen landed on a rock face, intending to use it as leverage to spring to another location. But in an instant, countless filaments burst from the rock face, ensnaring Glen firmly.

  Taking advantage of this, the remaining filaments lunged forward!

  In the nick of time, Glen's werewolf fur abruptly lengthened, significantly augmenting his defensive prowess.

  The lunging filaments failed to pierce through.

  Subsequently, he exerted all his strength to break free from the bonds and seek another opportunity.

  Should I utilize the moonstone? I'm loath to part with it. What if the recompense proffered by the forest will fails to justify the cost? Glen was mired in indecision.

  He had another alternative - to depart. As a Level - 7 werewolf, he had already sensed the passage through which he had descended.

  Very well, I'll ascend first and apprise them of the situation... Having made his decision, Glen, like a tempestuous black gust, vanished into the passage aperture above.

  On the surface.

  Gotaya was engaged in discourse with the forest will.

  At a certain moment, she thought she heard the forest will emit a pained groan, and she felt the ground tremble faintly.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The elven maiden, a trifle flustered and anxious, inquired, "What has occurred?"

  The forest will sent a reassuring message, indicating that all was well.

  "Perhaps something has transpired below..." Gotaya conjectured.

  Moments later, the plants at the mouth of the sinkhole convulsed violently, as if buffeted by a tempestuous gale.

  Subsequently, vast plumes of inky smoke erupted like a volcanic outburst. The immense force sent the elven maiden hurtling through the air.

  Thankfully, she sustained only superficial injuries. Righting herself, she immediately turned her gaze towards the sinkhole. Before the smoke cleared, a colossal form landed heavily beside the sinkhole.

  When the smoke that obscured her vision finally dissipated, she beheld a massive werewolf lying there, gasping for breath.

  "Mr. Glen?" Gotaya advanced a few steps and queried.

  Glen turned his head, baring a fanged smile. "You surely have no inkling of what lies beneath! That creature is likely of Level - 8 transcendent might. Yet, it seems bereft of wits, naught but a brute with power."

  These words left Gotaya perplexed, though she grasped the mention of Level - 8 transcendent strength.

  As an accomplished warrior among the forest elves, Gotaya was cognizant of the human system of classifying power levels.

  Initially, this ranking system pertained solely to mages. Subsequently, knights who could match first - level mages were dubbed first - level knights, and those on par with second - level mages were called second - level knights, and so forth, up to the Knight King.

  Over time, this system was gradually adopted more widely. People grew accustomed to this convenient hierarchy and applied it to other vocations as well.

  "Level - 8..." Gotaya's heart was a maelstrom of emotions - shock, bewilderment, curiosity, and a hint of trepidation.

  "This is truly unexpected." The forest will's tone in her mind remained unchanged, yet Gotaya could sense the surprise it harbored.

  "Dispatching that thing will not be a facile task. Inquire of this forest will whether the recompense it offers is sufficient to persuade me to undertake this perilous endeavor."

  Glen rose to his feet, his voice resounding like thunder.

  Just as Gotaya was about to respond, she suddenly noticed something on Glen's neck. "Mr. Glen, what is that on your neck?" she asked.

  "Neck?" Glen was momentarily taken aback, then comprehension dawned.

  He reached up to touch his neck and discovered that the rag doll had neither fallen off nor been destroyed during the intense battle. It clung tenaciously to his werewolf fur.

  He plucked the doll from his neck and held it before his eyes.

  It was indeed the sort of doll intended for little girls, fashioned in the likeness of a young lass. Its eyes were crafted from buttons, and its smiling mouth was stitched with wool, though it was slightly frayed.

  The doll was severely faded, a testament to its age.

  Remarkably, this object, having lain underground for centuries, emitted no odor, neither foul nor fragrant.

  "Fancy you managing to accompany me up here?" Glen addressed the doll.

  Predictably, the doll offered no response, save for transmitting a sense of forlornness to Glen through their contact.

  The sight of a towering, imposing black werewolf conversing with a doll no larger than his finger left Gotaya with a sense of dissonance.

  "Inform him that the item in his hand bears an aura of corruption. He should handle it with care."

  Upon hearing the forest will's words, the elven maiden promptly relayed them.

  Glen scratched his head upon hearing this. "I had no intention of keeping it. It wishes to find its rightful owner, and I shall, of course, return it."

  "Is it from the old inhabitants?" Gotaya echoed the forest will's query.

  "Aye." Glen returned the doll to the nape of his neck, and it nestled there of its own accord.

  "Let us resume. Have you determined how to deal with the entity below?"

  "Based on your description, it is highly probable that the object is the fallen deity, Ragbella, which was meant to have perished several epochs ago. Some tales claim it was devoured by other fallen deities, while others suggest it was merely fragmented. Who would have thought its remaining flesh and blood would be here, beneath the earth, siphoning the forest's power to survive..."

  The elven maiden, like an impassive echo, repeated the forest will's words.

  "So, what is the forest will's counsel?" Glen's eyes held a probing glint.

  "It must be eradicated!" Gotaya declared resolutely. "However, preparations are in order before that. We shall still require your assistance. Rest assured, the recompense will not disappoint."