Northern Shore of the Conquest Sea, Telva.
At the edge of the city under the night sky, in the ruins of the mansion, the now flame-wreathed, statue-like monster that was once Gochelle stood atop a pile of rubble. Having shed his human form, he had become a gargoyle, and facing the oncoming tide of broken corpse marionettes from all directions, he unleashed a searing jet of flames, the orange glowing markings on his body flaring brightly.
In an instant, the surrounding rubble was engulfed in fire. The nearby wreckage ignited, and the struggling corpses were consumed, reduced to charred husks in the intense heat.
Amidst the inferno, the fallen Bana rose once more. Covered in blood, he struggled to raise his handgun and aim at Gochelle, but the creature spotted him immediately. With a swing of his flail, the gargoyle slammed the heavy stone ball into Bana, sending him crashing back to the ground, his hardened skin fracturing and blood splattering everywhere. Without hesitation, Gochelle turned his flames on Bana, incinerating him completely. With his armor shattered, Bana had no way to resist the scorching heat and perished instantly.
Having thoroughly cleared the battlefield, Gochelle’s burning gaze turned toward the direction from which the earlier fire attack had come. Standing in the ruins, he spread his massive stone wings, silver markings lighting up along them—some of which bore crescent-like Shadow symbols.
He beat his wings, unleashing a blast of wind that intensified the surrounding flames and lifted his massive stone form into the air, soaring into the dark night.
Gargoyles not only absorb elemental spiritual attacks but can also store a portion of those attacks in their skin, to be released later. Now, Gochelle used the stored wind element to take flight.
“He’s coming, just as expected…”
Several hundred meters away, atop an unfinished building under construction, Dorothy—cloaked in black—murmured to herself as she lowered her gaze from the overlapping lenses of her scope. She had expected this. Once Gargoyle confirmed that the attack was elemental in nature, it would counterattack immediately. After all, Gargoyle possessed an innate advantage over nearly all elemental users.
“The captives in the mansion’s basement have all been freed. Since the mansion was isolated in the yard, the flames won’t spread to the city. No need to worry about an urban fire... Anyway, that part’s done. Time to focus on the fight.” Stowing her ornate rifle, Dorothy prepared to confront Gochelle with her real body.
She adjusted her hood and masked her face. Then, standing tall, she closed her eyes and activated her ability. In the next moment, her petite, cloaked body suddenly stretched, growing several dozen centimeters taller. In the blink of an eye, Dorothy stood like a full-grown adult, though her robe still fit her perfectly—as if it were made for this form from the start.
She gazed into the night sky, now able to hear the howling wind rushing toward her. The enemy was closing in fast.
Focusing her mind, Dorothy released her power. Bits of prepared scrap iron rose around her, floating in the air. With a sharp glint in her eyes, she sent the shrapnel shooting forward, straight at the approaching Gargoyle.
Sensing something, Gochelle made no move to dodge. He simply kept flying forward, allowing the scraps to strike his stony body. Sparks flew as they bounced off, completely ineffective. His hardened form endured the hits with ease—he didn’t even bother to flinch.
What Gochelle didn’t notice, however, was that among the rebounding pieces of iron, one had a yellowish cylindrical package tied to it. After being deflected, it was suddenly pulled upward by an unseen force, circling around to Gochelle’s back. A faint electrical spark ignited it, and the cylinder burst into blinding flame.
Boom!
The explosion echoed across the night sky as fire bloomed once again. Caught in the blast, Gochelle tumbled out of the smoke and flames, barely managing to stabilize himself with another gust of wind. Dorothy had aimed for the joint where his wings connected to his body, hoping to inflict critical damage. But the result was disappointing—only shallow cracks appeared on his surface.
“That kind of attack… she’s no Pyromancer. Just what is she?”
Hovering in the air, Gochelle steadied himself and looked toward the cloaked figure on the rooftop. Though surprised by her odd abilities, he felt reassured—her attacks posed little real threat to him.
The first strike failed, but Dorothy wasted no time initiating a second wave. More rusted shrapnel floated up around her and launched once again toward the airborne Gochelle.
This time, knowing they carried explosives, Gochelle wasn’t about to take them head-on. He flapped his wings mightily, sending out a powerful gust that deflected the incoming barrage and swept downward toward the rooftop.
Dorothy quickly turned her back to the wind, her cloak flapping wildly. But even she couldn’t withstand the force for long. The wind lifted her off her feet, and she plummeted from the rooftop toward the ground. Thankfully, the previously deflected shrapnel circled back under her control, catching her mid-fall and slowing her descent—saving her from injury.
Seeing that Dorothy landed safely, Gochelle, still flying in the sky, narrowed his eyes. He flapped his wings again, whipping up a powerful gust toward the ground while simultaneously breathing out another stream of fire.
In that instant, flame and wind merged—fire fed by wind, and the range of the blaze expanded rapidly under the gust. In the blink of an eye, a massive wave of flames descended from above. Under such a wide-area attack, it seemed like Dorothy had nowhere to run.
Facing the inferno raining down from the sky, Dorothy swung her arm. In that moment, numerous pieces of scrap iron around her swiftly converged in an incredibly precise order and structure above her head, forming an impenetrable steel shield to block the descending flames. The tightly packed arrangement and strange binding force between the metal pieces left no gap for fire to slip through.
High in the air, Gochelle ceased his fire-and-wind combo and, as the flames dispersed, saw only a thick and heavy metal shield instead of a burning body. Realizing his combo had failed to take effect, his heart sank.
As a Gargoyle, Gochelle’s use of elemental spiritual attacks wasn’t limitless. The elemental power stored within his stony skin was finite—unlike true Elementalists, who could fight with such power continuously. After using two wind bursts and sustaining flight for a while, the stored wind energy in his body was nearly depleted. A few more wind attacks, and he wouldn’t even have enough to stay airborne. Though Gargoyles had wings, these stone wings couldn’t possibly lift their heavy bodies; flight was made possible only through stored wind powers from other Wind Spellcasters. His wings were mostly symbolic.
Choosing not to waste any more stored elemental energy, Gochelle descended from the sky. Upon landing, he immediately burrowed into the ground. Dorothy noticed this and, to avoid being ambushed from below, dismantled the giant steel shield and used several metal plates to levitate herself into the air—attempting to stay above ground to evade Gochelle’s subterranean assault.
Sure enough, not long after Dorothy had floated up, a shadow burst from the wall of a nearby building—Gochelle had launched an attack just as she was slowly ascending. He wanted to keep her grounded; the earth was his battlefield.
Chain flail in hand, Gochelle launched himself from the building wall and charged at Dorothy. The heavy stone ball flew at her like a meteor. Dorothy quickly directed the floating metal fragments around her to intercept, but each piece merely bounced off his skin, unable to injure him.
Seeing the flail rushing toward her, Dorothy immediately released the metal pieces holding her aloft, letting gravity pull her straight to the ground. Gochelle’s strike missed—but he had already achieved his goal: grounding her. Without hesitation, he followed up with another heavy swing of his chain flail toward her.
In response, the cloaked Dorothy retreated with ghostly agility, narrowly evading another devastating blow. Seeing his mysterious foe move so swiftly, Gochelle decided it was time to lock her down.
He pulled a sigil from his still-unbroken garments and slapped it to the ground. As it burned away and consumed spirituality, the surrounding street terrain began to shift. The once-solid ground turned into a swampy mire, and everything on the surface started to sink. What was once stable footing had become a trap.
In an instant, both Dorothy and Gochelle were partially swallowed by the now-mire-like ground—their legs submerged deep. To Gochelle, the cloaked enemy had clearly been caught off guard, now sunk lower with a panicked attempt to free themselves—but it was futile.
Seeing this, Gochelle smirked inwardly. That sigil was the Swamp Sigil, which temporarily transformed sturdy rock into swamp, then solidified again. Anyone caught unprepared would find their legs pinned when the ground returned to solid stone—like natural shackles, rendering them immobile.
To most, the earth’s shackles were a death sentence. But to a Wall Walker like Gochelle, it was nothing—he could phase through them with ease. This tactic was a common one among the Dark Gold Society.
Now that the cloaked enemy was finally bound, Gochelle dove into the ground once more and began circling underground, looking for the perfect angle for a final strike. The target was immobilized—unable to dodge. He was certain the next blow would end it.
The terrifying Gargoyle swam through the earth.
But above ground, Dorothy, though keeping up a show of panic, wore a mask of calm beneath her hood. Even though she appeared trapped, her face betrayed no fear or urgency.
Normally, facing the unknown and the loss of freedom would cause panic—but not for Dorothy. Because her legs weren’t actually stuck underground.
They had never been underground to begin with.
Under her long robe, Dorothy’s feet never touched rock or dirt. She had been floating the entire time—just a few centimeters off the ground, supported by metal plates affixed to her body. She’d used her powers to hover using those hidden metal pieces.
Because of her short stature, hovering a few centimeters made no visible difference. When she dropped back to “standing” height, it looked—falsely—like she had sunk into the swamp trap.
Earlier in the fight, Dorothy had used external metal fragments to hover, just to make it seem like she depended on them. She wanted Gochelle to assume that without those metals, she couldn’t float—so he’d never suspect the internal setup.
Before coming here, Dorothy had already asked Beverly about the common tactics used by the Dark Gold Society. This trap? She came prepared.
So now—Dorothy wasn’t bound. And what’s more, she knew exactly where the Gargoyle was underground.
Though invisible to sight, sound, scent, or touch—Dorothy had another sense: iron sand.
Tiny specks of iron scattered beneath the earth. Through her powers, she could sense them and, by applying minute spiritual charges, she could track the movement of something phasing through matter below—the Gargoyle.
Dorothy used electromagnetic control to masterfully manipulate metal against a foe that heavily countered traditional Elementalists. Her precision came from the knowledge she had bartered for: the electromagnetic ability model of Misaka Mikoto—a scientific foundation for controlling electricity, inherited from the Electric Princess of Tokiwadai.
“People tend to let their guard down most when they believe victory is within their grasp. Right now, you probably think your next strike will be the final blow to end me. Conveniently enough… I don’t intend to drag this out any longer either. Let’s finish this.”