The sky was divided by a range of continuous mountains. On one side, the sunlight was scorching; on the other, dark clouds blotted out the light. The contrast was stark.
Kansai, acting as the vanguard, had one foot planted on his "spoils of war"—the corpse of a strange monster with its spine snapped—as he turned around.
"Have you noticed that it's getting colder? Or is it just me?"
Kansai might have lacked common sense, but his instincts and perception were exceptionally sharp.
"You're right." Morel, also serving as the vanguard, pointed his enormous pipe ahead like a compass needle.
"The temperature really has dropped... Especially after we crossed the mountains, the cold has become even more bone-chilling."
"Is it a ghost?" Kansai glanced around, surprisingly tense. He wasn't afraid of physical monsters, but he was worried about supernatural things. "It's a ghost, isn't it?"
Morel shot him a sidelong glance.
"You should know that many of the ghost stories from the Six Continents are caused by the grudges left behind by dead creatures... This place is no exception."
"Then it is a ghost." Kansai was a brave young man, but he couldn't help shivering. Ghosts—the kind you couldn't punch—were what scared him most.
Morel shrugged, offering no further explanation or reassurance. Instead, he put the mouthpiece of his Giant Pipe to his lips and took a deep breath.
Then he lowered the pipe and blew out clouds of smoke toward the front.
The smoke condensed into shape, and when it landed, it became more than fifty members of the "Purple Smoke Machine Troop." They looked like a group of ninjas.
Morel pointed his pipe forward, and the members of the "Purple Smoke Machine Troop" sprang into action. They fanned out in an orderly formation, nimbly racing between the rocks.
Ahead