I Died and Was Reincarnated as a Goth Femboy

Jōmitsu Ren, the immortal guardian, looked at the being he had called forth, his face a mask of pleading desperation. "I need your help," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the roar of her power.

The fire god turned her gaze back to Bombom, looking him up and down with a dismissive, almost amused expression. "Really?" she asked, her voice dripping with condescension. "You are scared of that... cute thing?" She let out a long, weary sigh, a plume of black smoke escaping her lips. "Fine. I will help you. This will be over quickly."

Kenjiro's blood ran cold. He was right. This wasn't one of his shadows. This was a real, summoned deity, and she was looking at him like he was an insect to be squashed. He had to figure out a way to defeat her, to survive this impossible fight. But how? How could a mortal possibly fight a god?

The world resolved into a swirl of color and sound for Gluteus, Lyrielle, and DragonSlayer. They had been pulled through a disorienting vortex of dark energy, and they landed in a heap on a cold, hard floor. They were in another of the castle's vast, empty chambers, this one a grand ballroom with a high, vaulted ceiling and shattered chandeliers that littered the floor like fallen stars. The masked man who had abducted them stood at the far end of the room, his form flickering in and out of phase with reality.

He let out a series of sharp, condescending "tsks" with his mouth. "You guys are really interfering with our plan," he said, his voice a distorted, electronic buzz. "But I must admit, I'm surprised. Even the immortal Ren was inspired to fight you. You must be more than just a nuisance."

DragonSlayer pushed himself to his feet, a low, furious growl rumbling in his chest. He drew a thumb across his throat in a universal, unmistakable gesture. "You're dead," he snarled, pointing his sword at the masked man.

"Oh, am I?" the masked man replied, a mocking lilt in his synthesized voice. "Or is it you?" He raised his hand, and a swirling, violent tornado of dark wind erupted from his sleeve. It shot across the ballroom, engulfing the surprised DragonSlayer. The warrior was lifted off his feet, his body slammed against the high ceiling, then back down to the floor, again and again, ten times in the span of a few seconds. The tornado finally dissipated, and DragonSlayer collapsed to the ground in a crumpled, broken heap. "W-what...?" he gasped, his voice a pained whisper. "That was... too fast..."

"Lyrielle!" Gluteus roared, planting himself in front of the downed warrior, his massive shield a wall of steel between them and the enemy. The elf, her face pale but her eyes determined, rushed to DragonSlayer's side, her hands already glowing with a powerful healing magic.

The masked man just smiled. "You're just a tank," he said, his hidden gaze fixed on Gluteus. "We already have all the information we need on you. Your defensive capabilities are impressive, but ultimately, you are just a wall. But if I defeat the healer," he continued, his gaze shifting to Lyrielle, "you two are gone." He crouched, his body tensing, ready to launch himself at the vulnerable elf.

Gluteus saw the movement, saw the intent. He knew his shield, his armor, his slow, deliberate movements would not be fast enough to intercept. He had to use that. The power he had sealed away, the part of himself he had suppressed for years in his quest to become the perfect, unbreachable protector.

In a blink of an eye, his massive, polished steel armor began to crack and crumble. It didn't fall off in pieces; it simply dissolved into a shower of shimmering, metallic dust, revealing the man beneath. He was still a giant, but without the bulky armor, his physique was leaner, more defined, a perfect sculpture of raw, kinetic power. He wore simple, casual clothes, and his expression was no longer that of a stoic, honorable knight, but of a seasoned, confident brawler.

The masked man, who had been in the middle of his charge, skidded to a halt, his single-minded assault on the healer completely forgotten. He jumped back, a look of genuine shock on his face. If I had gone for her, he thought, his mind racing, he would have grabbed me before I even knew what was happening.

Gluteus cracked his knuckles, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face. "Before I was a tank," he said, his voice losing its formal, booming quality, replaced by a low, confident growl, "I was a fast, powerful warrior. The armor... it seals my real nature." As he finished speaking, he vanished. He reappeared instantly behind the masked man, his massive fist already swinging. The masked man, his senses screaming with danger, managed to turn just in time, blocking the punch with his forearm. A tornado of dark energy erupted from his sleeve, but it was too slow. Gluteus was already gone, reappearing at his back again.

What?! the masked man thought, a jolt of pure panic shooting through him. He tried to do something, to phase away, to summon another attack, but it was already too late. He was caught in a relentless storm of fast, powerful punches, each one landing with the force of a cannonball.

With no other option, the masked man screamed a single, desperate word: "Zanirta's Song!" From his sleeve, a shimmering, spectral figure emerged. It was a woman, a perfect, ghostly woman that had unusual dance moves, but with a strange, melancholic expression on her face. She began to sing, her voice a haunting, ethereal melody. "Bang, bang..." As she sang, two enormous, spectral pistols materialized in her hands, and she began to fire a barrage of glowing, magical bullets at Gluteus.

The brawler, his movements a blur of pure, instinctual grace, dodged every single shot. The masked man used the distraction to create some distance between them. But then, Gluteus, who had been a whirlwind of motion just a second before, suddenly stumbled. He dropped to one knee, his body refusing to move, his muscles locked in place.

The spectral Zanirta faded into ashes. "After hearing her song, you cannot continue battling," the masked man explained, his voice a little shaky. "A sad thing, really. I had no more energy to use her. Yes," he continued, as if lecturing a student, "I can steal people's magical properties and create a doppelganger that can use their same powers. But they have a limited amount of magical power. After they reach their limit, I must extract the person's magic again."

Gluteus stared, shocked, as he tried to push himself up, but it was no use. His body refused to obey his commands. He couldn't even speak.

DragonSlayer, now fully healed and back on his feet, looked at the paralyzed Gluteus, then at the masked man. "Who?" he asked.

"Me," the masked man replied.

DragonSlayer burst out laughing, a loud, derisive sound. "Asked," he finished, a triumphant smirk on his face. He immediately thought, If Bombom were here, he would have laughed with me. He sighed, a brief, almost imperceptible flicker of sadness crossing his face, before he pulled his sword, his expression once again hardening into a mask of pure, arrogant confidence.

"His left arm is his weakness," Lyrielle suddenly said, her voice clear and firm, her usual shyness completely gone, replaced by the sharp focus of a seasoned battle-healer.

The masked man gasped, a jolt of pure terror shooting through him. How does she know that?! he thought, his mind reeling. She must be a genius in combat to know that without even fighting me! I must finish her first! He rushed at Lyrielle, his focus absolute. But DragonSlayer was already moving. He vanished from view, reappearing between the masked man and the healer, and grabbed him, throwing him to the ground. He plunged his sword deep into the masked man's left arm, pinning him to the floor. "Focusing on the back line is a bad idea," DragonSlayer said, smirking down at him.

The masked man yelled in pain as he jumped back, leaving his severed arm, still pinned to the floor by DragonSlayer's sword, behind him. Blood gushed from the stump of his shoulder. "Y-you fools!" he shrieked, his voice cracking with pain and rage. "I will destroy you now!" He pulled a gnarled, black wand from his sleeve with his remaining right hand and whispered, "Kamikaze no Ōkami!"

A massive wolf, made of pure, howling wind, emerged from the tip of the wand. Its eyes were a solid, glowing white, and it let out a howl that seemed to shake the very foundations of the castle. It rushed at DragonSlayer, who tried to dodge its spectral claws, but it was futile. He was caught, a series of deep gashes tearing through his fused draconic armor. He dropped to the floor, panting, looking at his injuries. One more claw, and it would have pierced him through.

Back in the immortal's bedchamber, the battle had just begun. Kagutsuchi, the fire god, threw the swirling ball of fire from her hand. "Hellfire Roar," Ren commanded. Kagutsuchi opened her mouth, and an immense, roaring torrent of fire, a literal river of molten flame, erupted from her throat, rushing towards Bombom.

He gulped, a jolt of pure, primal fear shooting through him. He knew, with a certainty that was both terrifying and reassuring, that his shadow would appear to help him. And just as he thought it, the ethereal, blue-haired boy emerged from his back. He froze the approaching river of flame, the fire instantly turning into a massive, intricate sculpture of black, obsidian-like ice, which then shattered, falling to the floor in a shower of glittering dust. But this time, the blue shadow didn't laugh. Instead, he looked at Kagutsuchi, a look of pure, unadulterated amusement on his face, as if he had just discovered a new, fascinating toy.