As they continued down the forest path, the scenery grew increasingly desolate and heartbreaking.
It was no longer merely a matter of vegetation withering under the monsters' corruption. Huge tree stumps, too numerous to count at a glance, stretched across their field of vision!
The stumps, each so wide that several adults would have been needed to encircle it, had relatively smooth cut surfaces.
Without question, they were the marks left by the loggers of old.
Apart from Kidomaru, who already lived in a barren wasteland, everyone felt their hearts grow heavy at the sight of this forest graveyard, which extended beyond the horizon.
Kaoru and Komatsumaru were especially affected.
They were yokai who lived in the forest. To these two little ones, it was a paradise, a sanctuary, and their most treasured home.
"I will never let Seven-Horn Mountain become like this."
For once, the mischievous Komatsumaru turned serious. Her lips tightened and her little fists clenched, fierce determination flickering in her yokai eyes.
Just as that conviction flared, Arata gently rested his hand on the little glutton's head.
But it had not been her fault. Why should she be the one to give in?
At that moment, she looked like a little adult, nothing like the mischievous glutton he remembered. She looked instead like One-Horn Mountain's spokesperson after Ichimokuren and Mountain Wind had left.
Just then, a metallic clash sounded from deep within the forest. It was faint and cut off almost as soon as it began.
She really wanted to give in.
After understanding her familiar's cry, Kaoru's face instantly grew tense. She hurriedly told the onmyoji beside her:
The monsters besieging Mountain Wind were more numerous and more powerful.
With a metallic ring, he drew the weapon carried on his back.
"No one will stop me!"