Chapter 7: Always Bet on Dragons
In this world, all manner of living organisms walk, crawl, burrow, and soar.
From the microscopic creature hidden beneath the damp soil to the magnificent apex predators that rule the depths of the forest and the vast expanses of the sea.
Life devours life in an endless, unyielding chain of survival. Yet far above them all… there exists one singular entity.
The undisputed apex of the animal kingdom.
The absolute sovereign of fang and claw. The walking, breathing calamity before which even the most powerful kings of men must kneel.
Ask not the sparrow how the eagle conquers the vast sky. If you seek to truly comprehend the concept of absolute supremacy, do not turn your attention toward those who have never once stood at its highest summit.
These beings are not merely subjects of nature. They are its primary authors.
The rest of the animal kingdom does not rule beneath them—it exists solely because they allow it the structural space to do so. They bow to no mortal law, no royal crown, and no cosmic god.
And none possess the mechanical power to bind them.
To them, mankind is not a rival. Not an equal. Not even a minor nuisance.
Humanity is, quite simply, livestock.
Colossal reptilian titans, atmospheric-darkening wing spans, iron-hard scales, stone-rending talons, steel-splitting fangs.
Yet even this detailed description captures only their most common physical shape. For not all of them are built from the same base components.
Some command the destructive parameters of flame. Some command the localized chaos of the storm. Others manipulate shadow, metal, poison, or lightning—primordial forces that mortal magic actively struggles to contain within standard parameters.
They are designated globally as the strongest creatures alive.
In a strict, unassisted one-on-one battle—a dragon will always achieve total triumph. On land. Across the vast sea. Within the endless skies. Among all living structures, they stand firmly at the peak.
Humanity's greatest natural enemy.
And yet… in this present age, they are spoken of by the populace as mere myths. Bedtime tales designed to frighten disobedient children.
Fading legends whispered around dying campfires.
But in certain dark corners of the world, among those rare individuals who remember the old truths, they are not called myths. They are called what they have always fundamentally been.
The natural enemies of humanity.
Dragons.
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On a narrow, isolated mountain peak where the freezing wind howled like a living, predatory thing, two distinct figures stood framed against the gray sky.
One towered—vast, iron-scaled, and ancient.
The other moved with restless kinetic energy.
Metalicana's heavy claws were embedded deep into the solid bedrock, anchoring his massive weight to the mountain as though his vessel were a natural extension of the stone itself. The rock groaned faintly beneath his immense mass.
"Iron Dragon Slayer Magic… is a specialized branch of True Dragon Slayer Magic," the dragon rumbled. His deep voice did not require volume to command the air density. It carried the dense weight of buried mountains and the absolute age of rusted empires.
"It grants its biological wielder the exact chemical and physical properties of iron." His massive, armored head tilted slightly, his black eyes watching the boy practicing a few paces away.
"You will learn to turn your living flesh into iron. You will not mimic it. You will not merely shield your skin with it." His talons tightened, the stone cracking like dry ice beneath them. "You will become it."
The wind shifted violently.
"The iron your body produces will not resemble the brittle, imperfect metal of human industrial forges. It will be stronger. Denser. Significantly closer to the composition of my own scales than anything crafted by mortal hands."
The dragon lifted one massive claw and dragged it lazily across the mountain's surface. Sparks hissed violently into the air as the solid stone parted like soft butter.
"With this power, you will reshape your physical form into weapons of war. Spears. Clubs. Shields. Whatever the immediate tactical situation demands." His tail swept behind him, striking the ground with a thunderous crack that split the mountain path like fragile clay.
"You will crush your enemies in close-quarters combat." With a casual flick of his heavy forelimb, his razor-sharp claws carved deep, parallel trenches into the solid stone as if it were damp soil.
"And if spatial distance stands between your vessel and your prey… iron does not require flesh to remain highly useful to a predator."
Fragments of pulverized rock fell away from the cliff face.
"This magic grants you the core traits of an Iron Dragon. You will reshape your flesh into living steel. You will command metal born directly from the earth. Bend it. Call it. Dominate it."
A few feet away, the steady, aggressive rhythm of deep breathing cut through the howling wind.
Gajeel punched the empty air—once, twice—adjusting his physical stance and lowering his center of gravity to stabilize his balance.
His movements were rough and unpolished, but completely relentless. A heavy kick followed. Then another. Soon, his small fists and feet blurred together in sharp, highly aggressive martial combinations.
He was panting heavily, sweat dripping from his chin, but his movements never faltered.
"And like all true Dragon Slayers…" Metalicana continued, his voice echoing over the peak, "…you will feed upon your chosen element."
Gajeel froze mid-motion, his fist hovering in the air. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm and squinted up at the colossal dragon.
"Feed?" he repeated, his brow furrowing. "You're telling me I can literally just eat raw iron, old man?"
Metalicana gave a single, firm, robotic nod to his heavy skull.
Gajeel blinked, processing the information "So if I'm in a tight spot during a fight… I can just bite straight into an enemy's sword or something and my stamina recovers?" he clarified, scratching the side of his messy black hair.
"Do not attempt to be clever with my explanations," Metalicana replied flatly.
"…That wasn't an explicit answer."
The dragon suddenly straightened to his full, towering height. His massive iron wings unfurled slightly, casting a vast, absolute shadow over the entire peak like heavy storm clouds gathering for war.
"This magic is not a parlor trick. It is not a convenience for a lazy child. It is a fundamental, biological transformation." His metallic eyes hardened. "If you achieve absolute mastery over it… you will not merely wield iron."
The dragon's voice lowered to a deep vibrate.
"You will stand as iron itself."
A heavy silence hung between them.
"Ohhh, I understand now," Gajeel said slowly, a feral, sharp grin beginning to stretch wide across his face. "You're basically stating that with your magic, I'll be overwhelmingly powerful, right?"
Metalicana did not deny the assertion. "Yes." That was all he said.
Gajeel's grin widened into something entirely primal. He clenched his small fist tightly, his knuckles popping in a rapid sequence.
"Perfect!" He rolled his shoulders, a wild, unyielding confidence blazing within his crimson eyes. "I cannot think of any other power in the whole friggin' world that would suit me better. With power like a dragon's—" His smirk sharpened to a dangerous edge. "There's no way in hell I won't be the strongest."
The wind roared over the peak.
"Gajeel." Metalicana's voice was lower than usual—less like thunder, and more like heavy iron beams settling into place.
"Hm?" Gajeel stopped staring at his hands and looked up. "What's up?"
"There will inevitably come a day when I am no longer resting at your side. That is not a narrative tragedy. That is simply the linear progression of time."
Gajeel's brows pulled together tightly. "What are you saying, old man?"
"When that specific day arrives… and the collective weight of the world presses your body down to your knees… someone may eventually extend their hand to you," Metalicana stated, completely ignoring the boy's interruption.
"Not because you earned their respect. Not because you bowed your head to their authority. But simply because they chose to execute that action."
The dragon's eyes narrowed slightly—not with cruelty, but with absolute, grounded honesty.
"You are abrasive. Reckless. Loud enough to wake sleeping mountain ranges. And your internal temper… burns hotter than any industrial forge."
A visible vein throbbed on young Gajeel's forehead. "Are you insulting me right now, or are you giving me actual advice?!"
A faint, heavy huff of air escaped the dragon's massive nostrils. "You make it exceptionally difficult for other people to remain near your presence," Metalicana said plainly.
"And yet… if someone chooses to stand there anyway… and offers you their hand despite all of those flawed metrics…" The dragon leaned down slightly. "Do not mistake that gesture for weakness."
Gajeel didn't answer, his mouth snapping shut.
"Strength is not contained solely within the power of the fist, Gajeel. Take the hand offered to you. Or refuse it. Your ultimate path will be your own to decide." His wings shifted with a metallic rasp in the wind. "I am your direct teacher. I am not your chain."
He lowered his massive, armored head until they were at direct eye level.
"My magic is a gift. It awakens fully only when you understand exactly what—or who—you are fighting to protect." A massive iron claw tapped gently against Gajeel's small chest. "I will not raise you to function as an object. Nor will I raise you to be a mere weapon. I am raising you to be a human."
An absolute silence enveloped the peak.
"…You're actually a pretty decent guy, Metalicana," Gajeel muttered under his breath, suddenly finding the dirt beneath his boots highly fascinating.
For a long moment, the great Iron Dragon simply observed the boy. Then, he let out a quiet, rumbling chuckle that vibrated the ground, lightly patting the child's head with a massive, multi-ton claw.
"Do not grow soft on my watch, whelp." The dragon stepped past Gajeel, his massive frame shifting as he stopped several yards away facing the empty mountain range. "Pay close attention to my teachings."
A cold, dense, silver aura began to gather rapidly around Metalicana's colossal body. It did not flare wildly or chaotically; instead, it clung tightly to his armored form—dense, heavily compressed, like molten iron being packed violently into a reinforced mold.
"This will function as one of your foundational combat techniques. A primordial breath of the true Dragon Slayers."
The dragon inhaled deeply.
The air density around his massive form distorted violently, warping like heat rising above an active furnace. Loose fragments of metal ore, dust, and heavy stone lifted off the earth entirely, hovering suspended in the pressurized air.
"Iron Dragon…" An intense, orange light began to seep faintly through the tightly layered seams of his scales. The deep interior of his mouth glowed brilliantly, resembling molten steel fresh from the core of a forge.
"…ROAR!!" The dragon thrust his head forward violently.
BOOOOOOM!
A massive, dark silver-gray tornado erupted from his jaws, heavily compressed into a highly concentrated, linear beam of absolute destruction.
Its spiraling, metallic winds were forced into a razor-straight trajectory, rotating violently clockwise at hypersonic speeds as it tore through the sky.
Within the roaring metallic vortex, glowing orange thermal fissures split through the silver current like cracks forming in forged steel.
Streams of brilliant molten light coiled violently inside the spiral, pulsing with highly unstable heat.
The beam began to narrow, compressing its immense pressure into a pinpoint focus. Then, it surged forward.
The air itself screamed in agony. The spiral tightened to an absolute limit, the kinetic pressure building so intensely that the storm appeared to be collapsing inward into itself.
For one split second—there was absolute silence.
Then, the vortex imploded.
CRASH!!
The attack detonated outward in a massive, concussive shockwave of solid metal fragments and localized hurricane-force winds, roaring across the mountain range like a cathedral-sized iron gate slamming shut with the force of a meteor.
Gajeel shielded his eyes with both arms, bracing his legs as a violent, crushing gust of wind threatened to blow him clean off the peak.
"Gahahahaha!" Metalicana's thunderous laughter boomed over the landscape. "Well, brat? What did you think of that? Impressive, isn't it?!"
Gajeel slowly lowered his trembling arms.
The massive, towering mountain that had stood directly in the beam's trajectory several miles away was entirely gone. It had been completely, systematically erased from geography.
'So this…' Gajeel thought, his wide crimson eyes staring blankly at the completely empty, scarred horizon. 'This is the actual power of the world's apex predator.'
"I will teach you everything I know," Metalicana declared proudly, highly amused by the boy's shock. "Under my direct guidance, you will inevitably become one of the strongest wizards of your entire generation."
"Y-Yeah…" Gajeel nodded stiffly, his young brain still frantically processing the sheer scale of the devastation.
And in that precise chronological moment, the young child understood an absolute truth. As he watched the great Iron Dragon laugh beneath a sky that had been literally scarred by the output of his own breath.
'I finally understand why the historical records call them the natural enemies of humanity.'
They were not standard villains. They were not mere monsters. They were primordial forces of nature. The literal embodiment of absolute ruin and overwhelming, unyielding might.
Whether on land. Across the wide sea. Or within the heavens themselves—the specific location did not matter a single fraction.
Because in a strict one-on-one battle…
Always bet on dragons.