Standing at the edge of a wide, shimmering lake was a boy with no visible eyebrows.
Or rather, he had them.
They were just made of metal.
Three studs sat above each eye like artificial brows. Two more lined either side of his nose. A pair rested beneath his lower lip, and two more decorated his chin.
His ears were crowded with piercings, two neat rows of five on each side, glinting faintly under the sun.
Industrial. Hardened.
And currently staring at water.
"Woah…" Gajeel gulped, hands on his hips. "This thing's huge."
Behind him, a sharp, amused chuckle rolled through the air.
"What?" Metalicana's deep voice rumbled. "Do not tell me the great Gajeel Lionheart fears a little water."
"Please." Gajeel scoffed, shooting the dragon a sideways glare. A challenging grin stretched across his face. "There isn't a single thing in this world—"
He suddenly bolted forward.
"—that I'm scared of!"
His feet pounded against the earth. With one powerful leap, he launched himself into the air and tucked his knees in tight.
"CANNONBAAALL—!"
Splash!
Water exploded upward in a respectable wave before settling into ripples.
A second later, Gajeel resurfaced, shaking his head like a drenched wolf.
"Haah! I gotta admit," he said, wiping water from his face, "taking a bath is easily one of the top ten best things in life."
The lake was cool. Refreshing. Peaceful.
Then, the sunlight vanished.
A massive shadow swallowed him whole.
Gajeel slowly looked up and his eyes widened.
High above, wings spread wide against the sky, was a certain overgrown iron lizard.
"…Old man?"
Metalicana grinned.
A heartbeat later—
BOOOOM!
The lake detonated.
Water surged outward in a tidal wave as the Iron Dragon crashed down into it without a shred of elegance.
Gajeel was launched backward by the splash.
"HEY?!"
Metalicana rose from the water like some ancient sea monster, looking entirely pleased with himself.
"You are not the only one who enjoys bathing, whelp."
Water poured off his iron scales in sheets as he settled deeper into the lake.
And just like that, what began as a peaceful bath became a full-scale aquatic disaster zone.
Although the lake rippled peacefully once more, Metalicana spoke as if continuing an important discussion.
"Although I find bathing… agreeable," the Iron Dragon rumbled, half-submerged in the water, "I fail to understand why humans insist on doing so every day."
Gajeel, still recovering from the tidal wave his foster father had created moments ago, slowly turned toward him.
"…You're saying you don't bathe every day?"
"I do not." Metalicana shook his massive head. "Twice per week is sufficient."
Gajeel stared.
"That's actually disgusting, bro."
Metalicana ignored him entirely.
With a tired sigh, Gajeel leaned back into the water, letting himself float. The cool lake carried him gently as his red eyes drifted toward the clear blue sky overhead.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
"…Man," Gajeel muttered. "Hard to believe it's already been a year since you started training me."
His gaze settled on the blazing orange sun.
"…I don't really feel different though."
Metalicana, resting comfortably on all fours in the shallows, opened one eye.
"And how did you expect to feel?"
Gajeel thought for a moment.
"I dunno… figured I'd wake up one day super ripped or something."
"…You expected instant physical transformation?"
"Well—yeah. Maybe."
A low chuckle vibrated through Metalicana's chest.
"You may yet experience change," he said. "Though not in the way you imagine."
Gajeel tilted his head slightly.
"Hm?"
"Certain Mages," Metalicana continued, "through extreme refinement of their Magic, gain the ability to assimilate their bodies into their Attribute."
"Their physical form becomes indistinguishable from their magic's nature."
"A fire-aligned Mage may disperse into a living flame."
"A water-aligned Mage may dissolve into liquid itself."
"In such a state, ordinary physical attacks pass harmlessly through them… or shatter upon contact."
Gajeel's eyes widened slightly.
"So… I could turn my body into iron?"
"Yes," Metalicana answered plainly. "Eventually."
"But it demands immense control. Your body and life-energy must move as one."
He snorted softly.
"You are… far from that point."
Gajeel clicked his tongue.
"Tch."
Metalicana continued anyway.
"And for you, the path will be even harsher."
"…Why?"
"Because your magic is classified as Lost Magic."
By now, father and son had drifted closer together, floating face-to-face atop the quiet water.
Gajeel blinked.
"…Lost Magic? What's that supposed to mean?"
Metalicana stared at him.
"…I did not explain this?"
"…No."
"…Ah."
The dragon visibly reconsidered several life decisions.
"Well then."
He cleared his throat.
"All Mahō falls into two primary classifications."
"The first — and most common — is Caster-Type Magic."
"It is shaped and released directly from the Mage's body. The Mage themselves become the conduit."
He gestured slightly with one claw.
"A fire Mage gathers power within their palm… heat distorts the air… and with a single motion, releases flame."
"No tool. No medium."
"Only the Mage and their Mahō."
Gajeel nodded slowly.
"Okay… that makes sense."
"The second is Holder-Type Magic."
"This form requires an external medium."
"The Mage channels their Mahō into an object, allowing it to stabilize or shape their power."
"A sword, for example, may carry flame without burning away."
"The object does not create power."
"It merely holds it."
Gajeel floated silently, processing.
"And beyond these," Metalicana continued, "exist deeper classifications shaped by history itself."
"Ancient Spells originate from the earliest civilizations. They operate under harsher laws and demand tremendous effort… but possess devastating power."
The lake water lapped gently around them.
"And then," he said, voice lowering slightly, "there is Lost Magic."
"Techniques nearly erased from history."
"Many vanished due to catastrophic consequences… instability… or fear."
Gajeel scratched his cheek.
"…So Dragon Slayer Magic's one of those?"
Metalicana nodded once.
"Yes."
"And rarer still… are Dragon Slayers themselves."
His metallic eyes softened faintly.
"You possess a single dominant Attribute."
"One you can create naturally… withstand without harm… and consume to restore your strength."
"…Eat metal," Gajeel summarized.
"…Yes."
A grin slowly spread across the boy's face.
"…That's still the coolest part."
Metalicana huffed, sending small ripples across the lake.
◆ ◇ ◆
Nightfall settled quietly over the mountains.
Metalicana lay upon the earth, vast and unmoving, his iron scales dull beneath the silver wash of moonlight.
Curled against his belly, fast asleep, was Gajeel.
The boy's breathing was steady. Peaceful.
'I suppose… it is time.'
Metalicana's gaze slowly lowered to the child resting against him.
And at that moment, Metalicana experienced a rush of memory. They were all times of gajeel.
A small, snarling boy who refused to cry.
A stubborn glare that challenged even a dragon.
Long nights spent tracing letters into dirt until the boy could finally read them back without stumbling
He had taught him how to fight.
How to survive.
How to read.
How to think.
It would not be an exaggeration to say he had raised him.
His jaw trembled.
A dragon's heart was said to be iron.
But he felt as though it were splitting apart.
"…My heart… cannot endure this."
Tears, heavy and unrestrained, slipped from his eyes, trailing down hardened scales.
"You were an insufferable little brat when I first found you," he muttered hoarsely.
A wet laugh broke between sobs.
"And somehow… you became the child I cherish most."
His claws pressed faintly into the soil.
'How could you ask this of me, Igneel…?'
A tear fell.
Then another.
One landed against Gajeel's cheek.
The boy stirred.
Brows knitting together, he slowly opened his eyes.
"…Metalicana?"
His voice was thick with sleep.
"…Why're you crying?"
Metalicana quickly lifted one massive claw and rested it gently atop the boy's head.
'Perhaps it is selfish…'
'But I do not want him to remember my sorrow.'
Slowly, he forced a smile.
It was wide. Too wide.
Bright and trembling, even as tears continued to fall.
The largest smile Gajeel had ever seen on the Iron Dragon's face.
And the most fragile.
"Hey… Gajeel."
His voice cracked, but it did not waver.
"I love you, kid."
Gajeel froze.
Before he could speak Metalicana leaned down and gently pressed two claws against the boy's temple.
A warmth flared between them.
Soft at first.
Then blinding.
White light erupted outward, swallowing dragon and child alike.
Within that light, Metalicana's final thought echoed quietly.
'This is my gift to you.'
'A gift called Iron Dragon Slayer Magic.'
◆ ◇ ◆
Rain.
Cold. Steady. Unforgiving.
Gajeel lay unconscious in the middle of a forest clearing as the sky above him darkened into heavy gray. The first droplets fell softly.
Then more.
Then enough to soak through cloth and skin alike.
Water tapped against his face.
His eyelids twitched.
Moments later, they opened.
"…What happened…?"
His vision blurred in and out of focus. Trees. Mud. Rain slicing through the air.
'A forest…?'
Slowly, he pushed himself upright. The drowsiness faded replaced with something hollow.
"…Metalicana."
The rain suddenly felt louder.
[I love you, kid.]
The memory struck clean.
Gajeel's brows tightened.
"That look in his eyes…"
He swallowed loudly.
"…I've never seen that before."
His gaze snapped around the clearing.
"…Where is he?"
He rose to his feet, rain pouring down his face in thin streams. It mixed with something warmer gathering at the corners of his eyes.
He sniffed.
Once.
Twice.
"…I can't smell him."
As a Dragon Slayer, his senses were sharper than any normal human's. Rain might blur a scent but it would not erase a dragon's presence.
"Is it the rain…?"
No.
Dragons carried a weight in the air. A metallic heaviness. A scent that clung to the world itself.
There was nothing.
[…My heart… cannot endure this.]
As he recalled Metalicana's previous words, his chest tightened.
Fear, real fear, took shape.
He began walking.
Then faster.
Then running.
Branches snapped underfoot as the rain intensified.
'Is it happening again?'
His thoughts spiraled with every step.
'I was abandoned once.'
'I was orphaned by my parents. '
The downhill slope came too fast.
'Am I going to be alone again?!'
[When that day arrives… and the weight of the world presses you to your knees… someone may extend their hand to you.]
"What did you mean by that?!" he shouted into the rain.
[I will not raise you as an object. Nor as a weapon. But as a human.]
"I don't care what you wanted!" Gajeel roared back at the empty forest.
His foot slipped.
Mud gave way beneath him.
He tumbled.
The rain only fed his momentum as he rolled violently downhill.
CRACK.
His head slammed against a tree trunk.
White pain exploded behind his eyes.
He clutched his head, teeth grinding as a sharp pulse radiated outward. Warmth trickled down his scalp.
Blood.
Rain and tears mixed freely across his face.
"You're just like them…" he muttered hoarsely, forcing himself upright. "Just like my parents."
"Who do you think you are? Training me… making me stronger…"
His vision blurred.
"…Just to throw me away like trash?!"
[I am your teacher. Not your chain.]
"You don't get to act friendly with me!" he shouted, staggering forward. "Go find some other Dragon Slayer! I don't care anymore!"
[I love you, kid.]
"Shut up—!"
His heel missed solid ground.
Splash.
The lake swallowed him whole.
The same lake.
The same water they had bathed in.
He sank for a moment beneath the surface, rain dimpling the water above.
[You will crush your enemies in close combat.]
[My magic is a gift. It awakens when you understand what—or who—you fight for.]
Gajeel's eyes snapped open underwater.
His eyes gleamed a new intensity.
He broke the surface, dragging in a sharp breath.
Rain hammered against the lake.
His eyes gleamed now — not with confusion.
But with resolve.
"…Fine."
His voice was low.
"If no one else is there…"
"Then I'll fight for myself."
Water streamed from his face as he stared into the storm.
"I'll trust no one."
"…I don't need anyone"
The rain did not answer.
How does one know if their choice is correct?
Gajeel didn't hesitate.
"Because I'm not wrong."
His jaw clenched.
"What's wrong… is this messed-up world."
---
On the seventh month.
On the seventh day.
In the year X777.
Or more simply—
July 7th, X777.
The Iron Dragon Metalicana vanished.
And a young Dragon Slayer was left behind.
Not long after, that same boy would join a guild known as Phantom Lord.
But that is a different storm.
Because in the present—
Rain falls once more.
And within the halls of that guild, the women of the rain clash against the Iron Dragon Slayer.