In this world, all manner of beasts walk, crawl, burrow, and soar. From the smallest creature hidden beneath the soil to the great predators that rule forest and sea.
Life devours life in an endless chain of survival.
Yet above them all… there exists one.
The apex of the animal kingdom. The sovereign of fang and claw. The calamity before which even kings would kneel.
Ask not the sparrow how the eagle conquers the sky.
If you seek to understand supremacy, do not turn to those who have never stood at its summit.
These beings are not subjects of nature.
They are its authors.
The animal kingdom does not rule beneath them—it exists because they allow it to. They bow to no law, no crown, no god. And none may bind them.
To them, mankind is not a rival.
Not an equal.
Not even a nuisance.
Humanity is livestock.
A clever herd, perhaps. A noisy one. But a herd nonetheless.
And should the age ever turn in their favor again, they would not merely hunt humanity—
They would chain it.
For their will is not content with survival.
It demands dominion.
They are most often described as colossal reptilian titans, vast wings that darken the sky, iron-hard scales, talons that rend stone, and fangs that split steel.
Their tails carve trenches through the earth. Their roars shake mountains and silence oceans.
Yet even this is only the common shape.
For not all of them are the same.
Some command flame. Some command storm. Some command shadow, metal, poison, lightning, forces that mortal magic struggles to contain.
They are called the strongest creatures alive.
In a one-on-one battle—a dragon will triumph.
On land. Across the sea. Within the skies.
Among all living things, they stand at the peak.
Humanity's greatest natural enemy.
And yet… in this present age, they are spoken of as myths. Bedtime tales to frighten children. Legends whispered around dying campfires.
But in certain corners of the world, among those who remember the old truths, they are not called myths.
They are called what they have always been.
The natural enemies of humanity.
Dragons.
◆ ◇ ◆
On a narrow mountain peak where the wind howled like a living thing, two figures stood against the sky.
One towered, vast, iron-scaled, ancient.
The other moved.
Metalicana's claws were embedded deep in the stone, anchoring him to the mountain as though he were part of it. The rock groaned faintly beneath his weight.
"Iron Dragon Slayer Magic… is a branch of Dragon Slayer Magic."
His voice did not need volume to command the air. It carried the density of buried mountains and the age of rusted empires.
"It grants its wielder the properties of iron."
His massive head tilted slightly, watching the boy a few paces away.
"You will turn your body into iron. Not mimic it. Not shield yourself with it."
His claws tightened, stone cracking beneath them.
"You will become it."
The wind shifted.
"The iron you produce will not be the brittle metal of human forges. It will be stronger. Denser. Closer to my own scales than anything crafted by mortal hands."
He lifted one claw and dragged it lazily across the mountain's surface.
Sparks hissed as Stone parted.
"With it, you will shape your body into weapons. Spears. Clubs. Shields. Whatever war demands."
His tail swept behind him, striking the ground with a thunderous crack, splitting the rock like fragile clay.
"You will crush your enemies in close combat."
With a casual flick of his forelimb, his claws carved deep trenches into solid stone as if it were damp soil.
"And if distance stands between you and your prey… iron does not require flesh to remain useful."
Fragments of rock fell away from the mountain face.
"This magic grants you the traits of an Iron Dragon."
"You will reshape your flesh into living steel. You will command metal born from the earth. Bend it. Call it. Dominate it."
A few feet away, the steady rhythm of breath cut through the wind.
Gajeel punched the empty air, once, twice, adjusting his stance, lowering his center of gravity.
His movements were rough, but relentless. A kick followed. Then another. Soon, fists and feet blurred together in sharp, aggressive combinations.
He was panting, but he did not stop.
"And like all Dragon Slayers…" Metalicana continued, "…you will feed upon your element."
Gajeel froze mid-motion.
He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm and squinted up at the colossal dragon.
"Feed?" he repeated. "You're saying I can just eat iron, old man?"
Metalicana gave a single, firm nod.
"You will consume iron to replenish your strength. Metal from the earth. From weapons. From walls. From chains."
"But listen well."
He lowered his massive head until his shadow swallowed the boy entirely.
"You cannot consume iron that you create yourself."
"It must come from an external source. And it must pass through your mouth."
Gajeel blinked.
"So if I'm in a tight spot… I just bite into a sword or something and I'm good?" he clarified, scratching the side of his head.
"Do not attempt to be clever," Metalicana replied flatly.
"…That wasn't an answer."
The dragon straightened to his full, towering height. His wings unfurled slightly, casting a vast shadow over the peak like storm clouds gathering.
"This magic is not a trick."
"It is not a convenience."
"It is a transformation."
His eyes hardened.
"If you master it… you will not merely wield iron."
"You will stand as iron itself."
Silence hung between them.
"Ohhh, I get it," Gajeel said slowly, a grin beginning to stretch across his face. "You're basically saying with your magic I'll be overwhelmingly powerful, right?"
Metalicana did not deny it.
"Yes."
That was all he said.
Gajeel's grin widened into something feral. He clenched his fist, knuckles popping.
"Perfect!"
He rolled his shoulders, confidence blazing in his eyes.
"I can't think of any other power in the whole friggin' world that'd suit me better."
"With power like a dragon's—"
His smirk sharpened.
"There's no way in hell I won't be the strongest."
The wind roared over the mountain peak.
"Gajeel."
Metalicana's voice was lower than usual—less thunder, more iron settling into place.
"Hm?" Gajeel stopped staring at his hands and looked up. "What's up?"
"There will come a day when I am no longer at your side. That is not a tragedy. That is time."
Gajeel's brows pulled together. "What're you saying, old man? I don't like where this is going."
"When that day arrives… and the weight of the world presses you to your knees… someone may extend their hand to you."
Metalicana ignored the interruption.
"Not because you earned it. Not because you bowed your head."
"But because they chose to."
His eyes narrowed not cruel. Just honest.
"You are abrasive. Reckless. Loud enough to wake mountains."
"And your temper… burns hotter than any forge."
A vein throbbed on Gajeel's forehead. "Are you insulting me or giving advice?"
A faint huff escaped the dragon's nostrils.
"You make it difficult for others to remain near you," Metalicana said plainly. "And yet… if someone stands there anyway… and offers you their hand despite all of that…"
"Do not mistake that for weakness."
Gajeel didn't answer.
"Strength is not only in the fist, Gajeel."
"…Take it."
"Or refuse it. Your path will be your own."
His wings shifted in the wind.
"I am your teacher."
"Not your chain."
He lowered his massive head until they were eye level.
"My magic is a gift. It awakens fully when you understand what—or who—you fight for."
A massive claw tapped Gajeel's chest.
"I will not raise you as an object."
"Nor as a weapon."
"But as a human."
Silence.
"…You're actually a pretty decent guy, Metalicana," Gajeel muttered, suddenly staring at the ground.
For a moment, the great Iron Dragon simply looked at him.
Then he let out a quiet, rumbling chuckle and lightly patted the boy's head with a claw.
"Do not grow soft on me, whelp."
He stepped past Gajeel and stopped several yards away.
"Pay attention."
A cold, silver aura began to gather around his body. It did not flare wildly, it clung to him, dense and compressed, like iron packed into a mold.
"This will be one of your foundational techniques. A breath of the Dragon Slayers."
He inhaled.
The air distorted around him like heat above a furnace. Loose fragments of metal, dust, and stone lifted from the earth and hovered.
"Iron Dragon…"
Orange light seeped faintly through the seams of his scales. The inside of his mouth glowed like molten steel fresh from the forge.
"…Roar."
He thrust his head forward.
A dark silver-gray tornado erupted from his jaws, compressed into a concentrated beam. Its spiraling winds were forced into a razor-straight trajectory, rotating violently clockwise as it tore through the sky.
Within the metallic vortex, glowing orange fissures split through the current like cracks in forged steel. Streams of molten light coiled inside the spiral, pulsing with unstable heat.
It began to narrow.
Then surged forward.
The air screamed.
The spiral tightened, pressure building as though the storm were collapsing into itself.
For one split second—
Silence.
Then the vortex imploded.
And detonated outward in a concussive shockwave of metal and wind, roaring across the mountains like a cathedral-sized iron gate slamming shut.
Gajeel shielded his eyes, bracing himself as a violent gust tore past him.
"Gahahahaha!" Metalicana's laughter boomed. "Well? What do you think? Impressive, isn't it?!"
Gajeel slowly lowered his arm.
The mountain that had stood in the beam's path was gone.
Completely erased.
'So this…' Gajeel thought, staring at the empty horizon.
'This is the power of the apex predator.'
"I will teach you everything I know," Metalicana declared, still amused. "Under my guidance, you will become one of the strongest wizards of your generation."
"Y-Yeah…" Gajeel nodded stiffly, still processing.
And in that moment, he understood something.
As he watched the Iron Dragon laugh beneath a sky scarred by his own power.
'I finally understand why they call them enemies of humanity.'
They were not villains.
Not monsters.
They were forces.
The embodiment of ruin and overwhelming might.
Whether on land.
Across the sea.
Or within the heavens themselves—
It did not matter.
Because in one-on-one…
Always bet on dragons.