Chapter 8: Metalicana
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 round silver 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 under the bright afternoon sun.
He looked industrial. Hardened. And he was currently staring blankly at the water.
"Woah…" Gajeel gulped, placing his hands on his hips. "This thing's huge."
Behind him, a sharp, amused chuckle rolled through the clearing.
"What?" Metalicana's deep voice rumbled, vibrating the grass beneath them. "Do not tell me the great Gajeel Lionheart fears a little water."
"Please." Gajeel scoffed, shooting the massive dragon a sideways glare as an arrogant grin stretched across his face. "There isn't a single thing in this entire world I'm scared of!"
He suddenly bolted forward.
With one powerful leap, he launched high into the air and tucked his knees tight to his chest.
Water exploded upward in a massive wave before settling back into gentle ripples. A second later, Gajeel's head resurfaced, shaking his messy black hair like a drenched wolf.
"Haah! I gotta admit," he said, wiping the water from his eyes, "taking a bath is easily top ten best things in life."
Then, the sunlight vanished. A massive shadow swallowed him whole.
Gajeel looked up, his crimson eyes widening. High above, vast iron wings spread wide against the blue sky.
"…Old man?"
Metalicana grinned. A heartbeat later—
BOOOOM!
The lake detonated. Water surged outward in a genuine tidal wave as the Iron Dragon crashed down into the center of the lake without a shred of elegance.
Gajeel was launched violently backward by the force. "HEY?!" he spluttered, coughing up water.
Metalicana rose from the depths like an ancient sea monster, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. "You are not the only living soul who enjoys bathing, whelp."
Water poured off his iron scales in heavy sheets as he settled deeper into the lakebed.
"Although I find bathing… agreeable," the Iron Dragon rumbled, half-submerged, "I fail to understand why humans insist on performing the task every single day."
Gajeel slowly floated over toward him. "…You're saying you don't bathe every day?"
"I do not." Metalicana shook his massive head. "Twice per week is more than enough."
Gajeel stared at him blankly. "That's actually disgusting, bro."
Metalicana ignored him.
With a tired sigh, Gajeel floated on his back, letting his eyes drift toward the clear sky. For a while, neither spoken, enjoying the quiet of the mountains.
"…Man," Gajeel muttered, breaking the silence. "Hard to believe it's already been a year since you started training me." His gaze settled on the blazing sun. "…I don't really feel any different, though."
Metalicana opened one dark eye. "And how exactly 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 an instant physical transformation?"
"Well—yeah. Maybe."
A low chuckle vibrated through Metalicana's heavy chest. "You may yet experience a true change," the dragon said, "though not in the simple way you imagine."
"Hm?"
"Certain Mages," Metalicana continued, his voice taking on a teaching tone, "through extreme refinement of their magic, gain the rare ability to completely assimilate their physical bodies into their chosen Attribute."
"Their physical form becomes indistinguishable from their magic's true nature."
"A fire-aligned Mage may disperse into living flame. A water-aligned Mage may dissolve entirely into liquid itself. In such a state, ordinary physical attacks pass harmlessly through their bodies… or shatter completely upon contact."
Gajeel's interest piqued. "So… I could turn my body into iron?"
"Yes," Metalicana answered plainly. "Eventually. But it demands immense, flawless control. Your body and your life-energy must move as one cohesive unit." He snorted softly, spraying water. "You are… exceptionally far from that point."
Gajeel clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Tch."
"And for you, the path will be even harsher," Metalicana added.
"…Why?"
"Because your magic is classified as Lost Magic."
By now, father and son had drifted closer, floating face-to-face atop the quiet water.
Gajeel blinked. "…Lost Magic? What's that supposed to mean?"
Metalicana stared at him in a long, unbroken silence. "…I did not explain this to you?"
"…No."
"…Ah." The dragon visibly reconsidered several life decisions. "Well then." He cleared his throat, a deep, grinding sound. "All Magic falls into two primary classifications."
"Caster-Type Magic, shaped and released directly from the Mage's body. The Mage functions as the direct conduit without external tools. Holder-Type Magic, requires an external, physical medium to function and stabilize power."
"Beyond these basic types," Metalicana continued, "exist deeper, rarer classifications shaped by history itself. Ancient Spells originate from the earliest civilizations, operating under harsher laws for devastating power."
The lake water grew still around them.
"And then," the dragon said, his voice lowering, "there is Lost Magic. Techniques nearly erased from history due to catastrophic consequences… instability… or fear."
Gajeel scratched his cheek. "…So Dragon Slayer Magic is 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 own strength."
"…Eat metal," Gajeel summarized with a grin.
"…Yes."
A wide, excited smile spread across the boy's face. "…That's still the coolest part."
Metalicana huffed, sending small, playful ripples across the lake.
◆ ◇ ◆
Nightfall settled quietly over the mountains.
Metalicana lay upon the cold earth—vast, quiet, and unmoving, his iron scales dull beneath the silver wash of the moonlight. Curled tightly against his belly, fast asleep, was Gajeel. The boy's breathing was steady, peaceful, and completely trusting.
'I suppose… it is time.'
Metalicana's gaze slowly lowered to the small child resting against him. Every moment spent together rushed through his mind: a snarling boy who proudly refused to cry; a fierce glare challenging a dragon; long, quiet nights tracing letters into the dirt until the boy could read without stumbling.
He had taught him how to fight, survive, read, and think. He had given him a life.
The dragon's jaw trembled. A dragon's heart was said to be unbreakable iron, but right now, his soul felt as though it were splitting apart.
"…My heart… cannot endure this," he muttered hoarsely. Heavy, unrestrained tears slipped from his eyes, trailing down his scales.
A wet, self-deprecating laugh broke through his quiet sobs. "You were an insufferable little brat when I first found you," he whispered. "And somehow… you became the child I cherish most."
'How could you ask this of me, Igneel…?'
A heavy drop landed squarely against Gajeel's cheek. The boy stirred, groggily opening 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, blocking his view.
'Perhaps it is selfish… but I do not want him to remember my sorrow.'
Slowly, the dragon forced a smile—wide, trembling, and fragile, even as tears continued to stream down his face.
"Hey… Gajeel." His voice cracked under the weight of his grief, but it did not waver. "I love you, kid."
Gajeel froze, the sleep instantly vanishing.
Before the boy could form a word, Metalicana pressed two massive claws against the child's temple. A sudden, brilliant white light erupted outward, swallowing the dragon and the child alike.
Within that blinding light, Metalicana's final thought resonated softly.
'This is my final gift to you. A gift called Iron Dragon Slayer Magic.'
◆ ◇ ◆
Rain fell—cold, steady, and completely unforgiving. Gajeel lay unconscious in the middle of a muddy forest clearing as the sky above darkened into a heavy gray. Water tapped relentlessly against his face until his eyes snapped open.
"…What happened…?"
All he could see were towering trees, thick mud, and rain slicing through the air.
'A forest…? Why am I in a forest?'
He pushed himself upright, a hollow, sickening feeling settling in his gut.
"…Metalicana."
[I love you, kid.] The memory struck clean through his mind.
Gajeel's brows tightened in confusion. "That look in his eyes…" He swallowed hard, his throat dry. "…I've never seen him look like that before."
His gaze snapped frantically around the empty clearing. "…Where is he?!"
He scrambled to his feet, rain pouring down his face, mixing with tears at the corners of his eyes. He sniffed the air aggressively.
Nothing.
As a Dragon Slayer, his senses were sharper than any human's. The heavy rain might blur a scent, but it could never erase a dragon's presence entirely.
[…My heart… cannot endure this.]
His chest tightened painfully. A cold, terrifying fear took shape.
He began sprinting, branches snapping violently underfoot as the rain intensified.
'Is it happening again?' His thoughts spiraled wildly. 'I was abandoned once. I was orphaned by my real parents. Am I going to be left 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 the hell did you mean by that?!" he shouted into the roaring 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 on the slick mud, losing his balance completely. He tumbled downhill through briars and rocks until his head slammed hard against a thick tree trunk.
A flash of blinding pain exploded behind his eyes. Warm, thick fluid trickled down his scalp.
Rain and hot tears mixed freely across his face.
"You're just like them…" he muttered hoarsely, forcing his trembling body upright. "You're just like my damn parents." He leaned against the tree, his breath hitching. "Who do you think you are? Training me… making me stronger… just to throw me away like trash?!"
[I am your teacher. Not your chain.]
"You don't get to act friendly with me!" he screamed, staggering forward blindly. "Go find some other Dragon Slayer! I don't care anymore!"
[I love you, kid.]
"Shut up—!"
His heel missed solid ground entirely.
The lake swallowed him whole. It was the exact same lake they had bathed in just days prior. He sank beneath the dark surface, the heavy rain dimpling the water above.
[My magic is a gift. It awakens when you understand what—or who—you fight for.]
Underwater, Gajeel's eyes snapped open. The confusion in his crimson eyes hardened into a cold, terrifying intensity.
He broke the surface, gasping sharply for air, staring defiantly into the heart of the storm.
"…Fine," his voice cut through the sound of the storm. "If no one else is going to be there… then I'll just fight for myself. I'll trust no one. And no one will ever trust me."
How does a child know if their choice is correct?
Gajeel didn't hesitate for a single second.
"Because I'm not wrong," he whispered, his jaw clenching. "What's wrong… is this messed-up world."
On the seventh month, on the seventh day, in the year X777—July 7th, X777—the Iron Dragon Metalicana vanished from the face of the earth, leaving a young, broken Dragon Slayer behind.
Not long after, that same boy would wander into the darkness and join a brutal guild known as Phantom Lord.
And now, in the present day, deep within the flooded corridors of that very guild, the woman of the rain clashes fiercely against the Iron Dragon Slayer.