Chapter 7 — The Child and the Mourner

The ruins were eerily silent. Only the faint crunch of boots against broken stone echoed as the three pushed deeper into the forest’s heart.

Agnes’s sensors beeped softly. “Footprints detected. Small… human. They lead into this structure.”

Kohaku didn’t hesitate. His voice rumbled out through the speaker in his armor, distorted and cold.
“You, inside. Come out. I don’t care if you’re alive… or already dead.”

Rika turned sharply, glaring at him. “At least try to be polite, Kohaku-san!”

Before he could reply, a small sound broke the tension—footsteps, uneven and hesitant.

From the shadows, a child appeared. She clutched a worn teddy bear, her hair streaked red and black, her eyes an unsettling blue that shimmered in the dim light.

She stopped a few steps away, staring at them, trembling.
“You’re… not monsters, right?”

Rika sheathed her blade, her voice soft and warm. “Of course not. You’re safe now.”

Kohaku silently returned his katana to its sheath.

The girl sniffled, hugging her bear tighter. “I don’t know where I am. A monster… it attacked us. I got separated from my parents.”

Rika knelt in front of her, brushing a hand gently over her hair. “What’s your name, little one?”

“Tohka… Tohka Hajime.” She wiped her tears, trying to be brave.

Rika smiled, though her heart ached. “It’s okay, Tohka-chan. We’ll find your parents. I promise.”

But as Tohka looked past Rika, her gaze locked on Kohaku. Her eyes widened. She shivered, clutching her teddy bear tighter. She wasn’t afraid of the monsters—she was afraid of him. The masked man radiated something darker, colder. An aura sharper than any beast.

And then the world shattered.

A shriek ripped through the ruins, high and mournful. The ground shook as a figure descended from the ceiling in a blur of black.

The Mourner had come.

Its form resembled a woman in a rotting kimono, her porcelain skin cracked, her hollow eyes burning with despair. She lunged at Agnes with claws outstretched, but the android held firm, the strike glancing harmlessly against synthetic plating.

Kohaku moved instantly. SHHHRAKK! His katana carved through the air, severing the creature’s arm in one brutal stroke. The Mourner wailed, her cry echoing like a hundred souls screaming at once.

The forest answered.

Agnes’s scanners flared red. “Warning: fifty signatures detected. Soul Beast types converging. Including… one Class-Delta. Wolf-type.”

The howls rose. Crimson eyes ignited in the mist, one after another. The forest itself seemed to tremble.

Rika tightened her grip on Tohka, her voice shaking. “F-fifty of them?!”

Kohaku turned to her, his voice heavy but resolute. “Take the girl. Agnes, go with them. I’ll hold them here.”

“You can’t fight them all alone!” Rika shouted, but he was already moving.

The ground exploded into chaos. Soul Beasts lunged from the shadows. Kohaku’s rifle barked.
BANG! BANG! BRAKKA! BRAKKA!
Each shot precise, each strike dropping another beast. But they came in waves.

A massive wolf-like beast burst through the mist, jaws snapping. Kohaku met it head-on, plunging his blade into its throat. SHHHRRAKK! Black ichor sprayed as the wolf collapsed, twitching.

The Mourner shrieked again, summoning more. Claws slashed. Fangs tore. Kohaku moved like a storm, cutting, shooting, striking—his rhythm faster, sharper, beyond comprehension.

Rika could only stare, stunned. His movements weren’t human. They were poetry written in blood and steel.

But even a storm could be drowned. The swarm pressed closer.

Kohaku reached to his belt. A small cylinder clicked in his hand. He pulled the pin, hurled it into the densest cluster.

BOOOOM!

The explosion lit the ruins in fire. Soul Beasts were torn apart, reduced to ash and screams.

When the smoke cleared, Kohaku stood amidst the carnage, his armor scorched, katana dripping black ichor. Only a few stragglers twitched before falling still.

He turned, striding back to Rika, Agnes, and Tohka as though nothing had happened. His voice was as cold as before.
“This forest isn’t safe. We leave. Now.”

Agnes adjusted her sensors, her eyes flickering with data. “Signal detected. Radio frequency to the east. Possible exit path.”

They began their march again, Rika holding Tohka close. The girl trembled but refused to cry, clutching her bear.

Rika glanced at Kohaku’s back, her lips pressed tight. She wanted to thank him, to shout at him, to demand why he fought like he had nothing left to lose. But his silence swallowed every word.

From the mist, unseen, a pair of red eyes watched. Patient. Waiting. Following.

The forest was not finished with them yet.