At the isolated heart of the library, where the tallest wooden shelves curved inward like silent sentinels, a single object hovered in absolute stillness.
A black glass sphere, roughly the size of a bowling ball, floated silently above an ornate stone pedestal. Its dark surface was far from smooth; thin, glowing violet lines ran across the glass like living veins, slowly rotating in intricate geometric patterns that never quite repeated.
Massive bookshelves surrounded the pedestal on all sides, towering over it in careful, concentric rows, as though the entire architecture of the library had been explicitly designed to guard this single artifact. And at the center of the gloom, the sphere waited.
Standing directly before the pedestal were two boys.
"This here's a high-grade magic item. The Lexis Orb," Gajeel explained, jerking his thumb toward the floating sphere. "You want to learn about an arcane topic? This thing'll dig it up from the archives for you."
"Magic items?" Albion muttered, blinking. "I have never encountered such terminology before."
Gajeel glanced at him sideways, his slitted red eyes unimpressed. "You really don't know a damn thing about the world, do you?"
"I must request that you simply explain the mechanics," Albion said, rolling his fuchsia eyes with a rare flash of mild annoyance.
Gajeel turned back to the orb. "Objects forged with specific magical properties," he said flatly. He lifted his hand toward the sphere. "That's why they're called magic items. The magic is permanently stored inside the item itself, meaning anyone can activate it—whether they are a trained mage or an ordinary human."
Albion slowly circled the stone pedestal, eyeing the glowing orb from different angles. "So… what is its actual function?"
Gajeel shrugged. "Hard to explain. Just watch."
His scarred fingers moved rapidly across the empty space before the pedestal. A translucent, glowing keyboard instantly shimmered into existence in front of his fingertips.
"The orb doesn't read the literal words you input," Gajeel muttered, typing fluidly. "It reads your core intent. It reads what you mean."
A moment later, a deep mechanical click echoed through the aisles. One of the countless leather-bound books lining the upper shelves suddenly slid free.
Then another. A heavy tome drifted forward, gliding smoothly through the air until it stopped directly in front of Gajeel's chest, floating patiently.
"I typed 'fish,'" Gajeel said lazily. "So the archive gave me a book about fish."
Albion raised a single hand politely. "Question."
"Yeah?"
"What would occur if you typed 'how to properly cook a fish'?" Albion asked, his analytical mind spinning. "Does the artifact provide more specific literature?"
"Probably," Gajeel said with a lazy shrug, dismissing the interface. "I dunno. I barely ever come in here. Who the hell wants to read books all damn day?"
Albion let out a small, tired breath and leaned back against a nearby bookshelf, crossing his arms over his purple hoodie.
"You have undoubtedly had it easier than me, Gajeel," he said quietly, his voice dropping an octave. "I do not even know where to begin regarding magic… or with anything in this life, for that matter. The sole reason Master Jose accepted me into this establishment was because he believed I might inherit a powerful Innate Magic."
His gaze drifted down to his bare feet on the cold floor. "But what if my container fails to awaken at all? That was the explicit condition of my trade. That is the only reason I am even standing in this room."
In the Kingdom of Fiore, children were completely indistinguishable from ordinary citizens. Until a child reached the critical age of five or six, there was absolutely no physical sign, no magical signature, and no certainty of whether they would ever wield Mahō.
Then, one day, it simply ignited. That exact moment was the Eternal Awakening.
Albion exhaled a slow, heavy breath. "I am aware that I could theoretically learn magic through standard academic study… but without an instructor, such a process would undoubtedly require an immense amount of time."
He looked up at Gajeel. His eyes weren't bitter—they were simply exhausted.
"I envy you, Gajeel. You were born with a definitive power that pointed you forward. A legacy." A faint, incredibly fragile smile touched the five-year-old's lips. "I think… I was merely lucky to be born alive at all."
"...." Gajeel didn't answer. The casual warmth vanished from his expression.
He slowly walked toward Albion, the towering shelves casting long, heavy shadows across his face.
"Hm? Gajeel—?"
The punch came entirely without warning.
SMACK.
Albion's head snapped violently to the side as Gajeel's heavy fist caught him squarely in the cheek. The sheer force sent the smaller boy stumbling backward until he hit the hard floor, landing heavily on his backside.
"Ow!" Albion gasped, instantly clutching his burning face. "What is the meaning of this, Gajeel?!"
Gajeel closed the distance instantly. He reached down, grabbed Albion by the collar of his purple hoodie, and violently yanked him halfway off the ground, forcing the boy to look him in the eyes.
Gajeel's expression was utterly empty. Cold. Feral.
"Don't you ever get it twisted, brat," Gajeel hissed, his voice dropping into a dangerous register. "I am not your friend. I am sure as hell not your therapist. I didn't bring you to this library because I felt sorry for your pathetic past."
"Then why—?"
"I told you, I was curious!" Gajeel cut him off fiercely.
Albion blinked through the pain. "Curious about what?"
"I wanted to see if you were the kind of kid he always mentioned," Gajeel barked, his grip tightening. "Someone actually worth watching. Someone with real steel in their spine." A short, humorless scoff escaped his lips, and he loosened his grip, letting Albion drop back to the floor. "Guess I was completely wrong."
His slitted red eyes sharpened like daggers.
"You're standing here crying about what might happen to you tomorrow instead of doing something about it today. That isn't weakness, kid—that's just dead weight."
Gajeel leaned in closer, delivering his words with calculated cruelty. "You're just a waste of space. Even your own mother didn't want you."
The words struck Albion far deeper than the physical punch ever could. In an instant, the horrific memories from earlier that morning surged to the forefront of his mind.
[I'm your mother. That means your very life belongs to me.']
[He's worse than nothing. Because at least nothing can only disappoint you so much.]
"Shut up…" Albion whispered, his head bowing.
"Huh?" Gajeel leaned closer, cupping his ear. "Speak up, brat. I can't hear you."
Albion clenched his small fist, twisted his hips, and swung with everything he had.
BAM.
The punch landed square against Gajeel's jaw.
Gajeel staggered back a full step, his fingers instinctively brushing against his bruised cheek. His slitted eyes narrowed to tiny pinpricks.
Albion stood up, his chest heaving as his breath came in ragged pulls.
"You know what I think?" Albion snapped, dropping his formal vocabulary out of pure, unadulterated fury. "I think you need to shut your mouth."
He steadied his breathing, his unique fuchsia eyes burning with an intense, concentrated light.
"I never requested your pity. And I sure as hell never asked for your cruelty, or your sudden kindness." Albion glared at Gajeel. "I am thoroughly exhausted by people dumping their own internal insecurities onto me. Your personal bitterness is not my burden to carry."
Then, a sharp, mocking smile cut across Albion's face—a dark, defensive armor. "You're the real loser here, Gajeel. And deep down, you know it."
Gajeel let out a short, sharp laugh, but his eyes remained deadly serious. "Me? Don't you dare project your own garbage onto me, brat."
He turned his back on Albion, walking away.
"I eat when I'm hungry. I fight because I want to. I don't wait around for anyone's permission to exist in this world." His heavy boots echoed softly between the narrow shelves. "But you wouldn't get that. You've been treated like a literal object your entire life. Owned. Passed around. Sold. So don't pretend you suddenly know what it means to live for yourself."
He paused at the very edge of the library aisle, glancing back over his shoulder with eyes of cold stone.
"Live for yourself. Your own pleasures. Your own hates. That's the only thing that's real in this world." His voice went completely flat. "And if you can't live like that? Then you're no wizard at all. Blame your own pathetic pride for keeping you weak."
Those were Lionheart's final words before he vanished into the corridor.
The moment he entered the empty hallway, Gajeel roared in frustration and slammed his bare fist straight into the dark stone wall. The impact shattered the rock, sending debris clattering across the floor.
"Damn it!" he shouted, his voice echoing fiercely through the empty corridor. "I really thought I finally had a lead on you, Metalicana…"
He looked down at his trembling forearms. The dark, flame-like markings were faintly visible beneath his skin, pulsing with a dull energy.
"I remember everything," he muttered to himself, his jaw tightening until it ached. "The spells. The physical drills. Every single thing you taught me before you left."
It had been a full year since the Iron Dragon Metalicana had vanished without a trace, leaving Gajeel entirely alone in the world.
"I really thought I found something special this time," Gajeel said quietly, his anger fading into a hollow loneliness as he lowered his arm. "A real lead." He exhaled sharply through his nose. "Next time I see you, old man… I'm punching you straight in the face."
Sniff. Sniff.
Suddenly, Gajeel's nose twitched. His eyes narrowed instantly, his pupils thinning into dangerous, predatory slits.
"…Someone is here."
The corridor stretched long and narrow, constructed from dark, oppressive stone blocks. Thick iron beams ran along the length of the ceiling, bolted heavily into the bedrock, while exposed pipes and magical conduits crawled along the walls like mechanical vines.
The lighting in this sector of Phantom Lord was intentionally poor. Only a few dim lamps hung from heavy iron chains overhead, spaced incredibly far apart. Their pale, flickering glow barely touched the floor, leaving massive stretches of the hallway completely swallowed by thick, pooling shadows.
"Come out," Gajeel called out into the dark, his voice echoing. "My nose can pick up a scent from a mile away."
Soft, measured footsteps answered his call.
A small, youthful figure stepped out from the heavy shadows and into the dim pale light.
The girl's attire was casual, yet distinctly unique.
A varsity-style jacket hung loosely from her shoulders—a deep navy blue color with soft, silver-white sleeves. The ribbed cuffs and collar were lined with thin, light-blue stripes that looked slightly worn from use.
Dark gray shorts rested just above her knees, grounded by a pair of chunky navy sneakers with white soles and pale blue accents.
Small, silver snowflake-shaped earrings glinted faintly from her ears. But the most striking detail was the object clutched securely in her arms—a plush seal, soft gray and pale blue, held tightly against her chest like a protective comfort object.
Her midnight-blue hair was thick and faintly wavy, tied up into high pigtails by pale blue ribbons. Soft, uneven bangs framed her face, giving her a gentle, porcelain appearance that stood in stark contrast to her serious, unreadable expression. Her large, azure-blue eyes were watchful.
"Who the hell are you?" Gajeel asked, his voice laced with lingering irritation. He shook his head, waving a hand. "Actually, don't answer. I don't care."
He began to walk past her.
"Why is it that you fight?" the girl asked, her voice calm and clear.
Gajeel stopped dead in his tracks, right in front of her. He leaned down, bringing his spiked face inches from hers.
"Why do I fight?" he repeated sneeringly. "People should only ever fight for themselves, kid. And I fight because I want to crush strong people." His lip curled. "That's all that matters."
He turned away, completely losing interest.
"The Master talks about you frequently," the blue-haired girl continued, her tone entirely even. "The Iron Dragon Slayer. He speaks as though you are his ultimate pride and joy."
"Yeah," Gajeel replied flatly, not looking back. "Because I'm the strongest guy here."
"But to me…" she countered softly, her azure eyes locked onto his back, "you just look incredibly sad."
Gajeel froze.
Slowly, he turned his body around. Thick veins throbbed violently along his temples, his facial features hardening into an expression of pure rage.
"…You just stepped on a massive landmine, kid."
Gajeel spun on his heel and kicked off the stone floor, dashing straight at her with explosive speed. As he lunged forward, his entire right arm groaned, hardening and reshaping into a massive, heavy iron club.
He swung the weapon with aggression. The strike should have shattered her bones.
But the exact millisecond his iron club made contact with her chest, the girl's physical form completely lost its density. Her body melted into a violent rush of churning water.
Gajeel's heavy iron club passed straight through her torso, slamming into nothing but empty air.
Gajeel's red eyes widened in sheer shock. He skidded past her. "What the hell is wrong with your body?!" he snapped.
"I take it you have never encountered this specific brand of magic before," the girl said calmly, her body instantly reforming into its solid, porcelain state without a scratch. "My body is constructed entirely of water."
She raised a single hand toward him, her plush seal still tucked under her opposite arm.
"Any and all physical attacks you attempt to utilize are entirely useless against me."
Water rapidly gathered in her open palm, compressing and accelerating into a tight, spiraling stream. In the next instant, it fired forward like a high-pressure cannon.
BOOM.
The hydro-blast struck Gajeel head-on, lifting his heavy frame entirely off his feet and hurling him several steps back down the corridor.
He dug his leather boots hard into the stone, carving grooves into the floor as he fought to halt his momentum.
Crossing his arms, Gajeel unleashed a burst of raw physical force, slamming through the high-pressure stream and breaking the water apart. When the spray finally scattered, Gajeel stood soaked from head to toe, his long hair dripping.
"Tch. Since when does basic water magic pack that kind of punch?" Gajeel growled.
He snapped his right leg out in a ferocious kick. Mid-motion, the limb stretched and transformed into a long, rigid iron pole, whipping directly toward her neck.
Just like before, the girl's body rippled, dissolving into a fluid splash for a split second. The heavy iron pole passed straight through her face, slamming into the dark stone wall behind her with a wet, echoing impact.
"Attempting the exact same methodology and expecting an alternative result," she noted evenly, her face reforming perfectly, "is borderline insanity."
"Tch." Gajeel clicked his tongue in pure irritation, pulling his leg back as the metal melted back into ordinary flesh and bone. "I didn't ask for a lecture, water girl." He narrowed his slitted eyes. "Who are you, anyway?"
She chose not to answer the query. Instead, she lifted her right hand into the air. Tiny, hyper-dense droplets of water began to manifest around her fingertips, spinning rapidly.
"Water is entirely shapeless," she soliloquized. "It can become anything, precisely because it already exists within everything."
Cradling her plush seal securely, she extended her arm toward the Dragon Slayer. The spinning droplets instantly sharpened, stretching out into thin, crescent-shaped blades of hyper-pressurized water.
"Water Slicer."
The liquid blades shot forward, slicing through the air with a whistling screech.
"So you're pressurizing the liquid density," Gajeel muttered, his combat instincts taking over. He brought both of his forearms together, the skin peeling away as they reshaped into twin, reinforced iron clubs.
"As a nod to your damn creativity—let's clash head-on!"
He braced his stance.
CRASH.
High-pressure water met living iron with a sharp, deafening explosion of sound. Bright yellow friction sparks burst from the impact point as Gajeel gritted his teeth, forcing his iron clubs forward against the cutting power of the blades.
"This garbage won't stop me!" he growled, his muscles bulging. "My iron isn't losing to a drop of water!"
With a ferocious downward slam, Gajeel unleashed his full physical strength, crushing completely through the magical attack. The deflected water blades were knocked violently upward, carving deep, jagged gashes into the stone ceiling as they scattered into harmless mist.
*'…Such immense physical output. Is the density of his iron altered by his magical container?'* Juvia's azure gaze sharpened, her evaluation of the boy shifting.
"My name is Juvia Greywater," she announced formally, adjusting her grip on her plush toy. "Under normal parameters, I would return a compliment regarding your capabilities… but we both know that would be an untruth."
"That works perfectly for me!" Gajeel barked, a wild, feral grin returning to his face. "Name's Gajeel Lionheart. My personal hobby is breaking strong people like you." His iron arms shifted seamlessly back into ordinary flesh as he raised his hands casually.
"As for compliments? I only grant those to fighters who can actually keep up with me."
Juvia lifted a single finger, signaling for a ceasefire. "Please. Let us conclude this engagement. Despite my previous assertions, I possess absolutely no genuine desire to engage in combat with you."
"Oh, that's perfectly fine by me," Gajeel chuckled, his voice turning dark. A harsh, metallic groan suddenly echoed through the long hallway.
The thick structural metal beams and exposed iron pipes tore completely free from the stone walls, ripping out of the bedrock and hovering into the air around Gajeel's body like a floating fortress of junk.
Juvia's azure eyes widened a fraction. '…I was under the impression his authority was limited to the iron within his own body. He can command external metallic structures as well?'
Gajeel spread his arms wide, the stolen structural metal hovering menacingly at his sides.
"Let's see what's stronger," he said, his teeth bared in a wild, terrifying grin as he leaned forward. "My steel…"
His red eyes flashed in the dim light.
"…Or your water."
Author's Note:
Thanks for reading this chapter! 🙏
If you're enjoying the story so far, consider adding it to your collection and dropping some Power Stones—it really helps me out and keeps me motivated to write more.
And if you've got any thoughts, complaints, or things you loved (or hated 😅), leave them in the comments. I actually enjoy hearing your opinions and feedback—it helps me improve the story.