Chapter 19: A Monster's Resolve
In a long, narrow alleyway…
"You know what I hate most?" a voice spoke coldly. "Scum like you."
Several teenagers lay sprawled across the damp ground, groaning in pain. Most looked around seventeen years old. Bruised faces, as well as broken noses.
all of them had already been beaten down.
All except one.
"People who fight just to hurt somebody weaker than them."
A boy with long slicked-back black hair held another teenager off the ground with one hand wrapped tightly around his collar.
The difference in size between them was ridiculous. The boy he held was nearly twice his height.
yet the grip around his throat never wavered.
"Don't get the wrong idea though," Gajeel Lionheart continued. "I love a good fight."
A grin slowly spread across his face. "Hell, I fight because I enjoy it."
"I don't really care why somebody throws a punch either. Fight to protect someone. Fight to survive. Fight to prove something to yourself."
"Fine by me."
His expression darkened. "But what I can't stand…"
"…are people who already know they're
strong, and still use that strength to crush people who can't fight back."
"Not for a challenge. Not for survival. Not even because it's fun." A dangerous sharpness entered his smile. "They do it because they enjoy watching people suffer."
The bully in his grasp trembled.
Gajeel's grin twisted colder. "…Those kinds of people are the worst."
"I hate bullies."
"Uuugh…" the teenager groaned weakly.
"Picking on weaker people must've made you feel pretty strong, huh?" Gajeel released his collar.
The boy collapsed to the ground in a heap.
Without sparing him another glance, Gajeel turned around and began walking away.
"If I catch you doing it around me again…" His voice echoed through the alley. "I'll kill you."
And with that, he left.
Gajeel believed the simplest way to live was through pleasure and displeasure alone.
If he wanted something, he took it. If he hated something, he crushed it.
To him, life was nothing more than following instinct and desire without allowing fear, guilt, or hesitation to chain him down.
Consequences never mattered much to him.
Consequences were usually just complaints made by weak people who lacked the courage to do what they truly wanted.
If he felt tired, he slept wherever he pleased.
If he wanted food, money, or scraps of iron from some careless idiot, then he stole them without shame.
And if someone looked at him the wrong way— or if he simply felt like fighting— then fists would fly before words ever had the chance to.
It was selfish and reckless. But Gajeel never saw a reason to deny it.
To him, a life spent suppressing every desire was no life at all. What was the point of existing if every action had to be filtered through fear?
Fear of punishment.
Fear of judgment.
Fear of other people.
That kind of life sounded hollow to him, like a cage built from invisible bars.
So Gajeel chose to live freely and wildly.
A life without regret. Even pain held value in his eyes.
A bloody nose. Bruised knuckles. Broken bones.
Those things proved he was alive. Every scar on his body was evidence that he had lived exactly the way he wanted to live.
Without hesitation. Without pretending. Without lies.
And somewhere along the way Gajeel began connecting that belief to magic itself.
A wizard wasn't simply someone capable of casting spells or wielding power. Anyone could learn magic with enough talent and effort.
But to truly be a wizard— to truly stand proudly in this world—
Meant understanding the value of your own existence. If someone lived chained down by fear… If they hated themselves…
If they couldn't even decide how they wanted to live… Then what exactly were they fighting for?
To Gajeel, magic was an extension of the self.
A reflection of will. And if a person couldn't live honestly with themselves, then they could never become truly strong.
Later that day, Gajeel sat atop a colossal mountain of scrap metal beneath the open sky.
Against the pale blue backdrop, the heap stretched endlessly upward from the lower left toward the upper right, creating the overwhelming impression of a mountain forged entirely from ruin.
The structure itself was a chaotic mass of twisted steel, shattered machinery, and rust-devoured wreckage piled endlessly atop itself.
Countless automotive parts protruded from the mound, many half-buried beneath newer layers of debris.
Massive structural beams jutted outward at violent angles, some bent nearly in half as though torn apart by monstrous force.
Rust spread across every surface in deep browns, burnt oranges, and faded reds, giving the entire landscape the appearance of something old and corroded.
Scattered throughout the heap were cracked gears, severed pistons, snapped chains, shredded wiring, and broken mechanical components beyond recognition.
A sharp crunch echoed through the scrapyard. Gajeel bit down onto a rounded iron rim with ease.
Even his teeth were strong enough to devour metal itself.
After tearing off a piece, he dropped it into his lap before lazily chewing through the chunk in his mouth.
"It's been a while since Metalicana disappeared…" Gajeel muttered aloud. "I've been trying to find him this whole time…"
His red eyes lowered slightly. "But it's almost like dragons completely vanished from the world."
The only traces of dragons he had ever managed to find were buried inside old books.
Even so, that never stopped him from reading them over and over again.
Searching desperately for anything, any clue,
that might lead him back to the dragon who raised him.
"Let's see… how long's it been now?" Gajeel muttered while counting on his fingers. "Dad disappeared on the seventh…"
"One… two…" He paused mid-count. "Three weeks… I think."
"So that means today is…" His expression slowly stiffened. "Wait. How many days are in a week again?"
"…Seven, right?" He stared blankly into space while trying to calculate it.
"I gotta multiply seven by three…" Smoke practically threatened to rise from his head.
"Uhh…"
"Oh! Right! Twenty-one!" He pointed proudly at absolutely nobody. "That means today's the twenty-ninth of July."
Mathematics was not one of Gajeel's strengths.
Still, despite feeling mildly accomplished for solving such "advanced" calculations, his mood quickly sank again as reality settled back in.
Twenty-one days.
And he still had nothing.
[And somehow… you became the child I cherish most.]
The memory surfaced suddenly.
Metalicana's voice. The sadness behind it. The way it cracked near the end.
A quiet heaviness filled Gajeel's chest. To him, Metalicana had been many things.
Knowledgeable, yet massive in size. Blunt and kind of rude.
But above all else, he was strong. Strong enough to destroy mountains with a single spell.
Strong enough to crush monstrous beasts with nothing more than a swipe of his tail.
And beyond that strength came centuries of experience.
Yet despite all of that—
[Hey… Gajeel.]
Despite possessing strength so overwhelming it bordered on catastrophe—
[I love you, kid.]
He still cried.
Just remembering it caused Gajeel's chest to tighten painfully.
"I'm not a crybaby…" Gajeel muttered quietly. "I'm not soft enough to whine about something that already happened…"
But despite his words, his mouth trembled.
Emotion swelled violently inside his chest, so heavy it almost hurt to breathe.
"Dad… why did you—"
A scent suddenly drifted into his nose. Then came the sound of an older voice. "Hello there!"
Gajeel's eyes narrowed instantly. 'Someone's here…'
Quickly getting to his feet, Gajeel wiped at his tears with his arm before anyone could properly see them.
A figure stepped onto a piece of rubble several meters away. Metal groaned beneath the newcomer's weight.
"Who're you?" Gajeel turned sharply, already irritated.
"Greetings, young one. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," the stranger replied politely.
He was an exceptionally tall, slender man, standing well over 185 centimeters, with a presence that felt both theatrical and deeply unsettling.
His body was lean and long-limbed, giving him the silhouette of a predator wrapped in noble attire.
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is—"
"Better question," Gajeel cut him off instantly. "What the hell are you wearing?"
The man blinked once.
His long, straight dark-red hair fell neatly to his shoulders, framing a sharp angular face with faintly pointed ears, pronounced eyelashes, and dark-colored lips that enhanced his eerie, aristocratic appearance.
A thin pencil mustache rested above his mouth, adding to the refined yet sinister aura surrounding him.
Perched atop his head was a tall purple hat with a broad brim. Its elongated tip bent loosely toward his left shoulder, giving it a dramatic, almost witch-like silhouette.
Around his shoulders rested a deep-purple capelet trimmed with jagged white edges resembling sharp teeth.
A high rigid collar rose around his neck, its vivid green inner lining sharply contrasting the darker tones of the outfit.
Beneath the cape, he wore a light-colored shirt paired with a large puffed red cravat tied around his throat.
At its center sat a circular blue brooch decorated with a white cross-shaped emblem.
Bright red trousers completed the absurdly flamboyant appearance. And extending from his back were enormous bat-like wings colored deep blue-black.
Visible skeletal ribbing stretched beneath the membranes, making him appear less like a human and more like some nightmare creature attempting to dress nobly.
"…Huh?" the stranger said flatly.
"Don't 'huh' me, old man. You know exactly what I'm talking about," Gajeel shot back immediately, pointing at him.
"What's wrong with your outfit? You look like a clown. Do yourself a favor and crawl back to whatever circus you came from."
"My, my…" A crooked smile slowly spread across the man's face.
"What a sharp tongue you possess. Though I suppose a mere child would lack any understanding of proper fashion."
"No sense of fashion?" Gajeel scoffed loudly.
"The fact you think that counts as fashion already tells me everything I need to know about you."
He gestured proudly toward his own clothes. "Take notes, old man. This is what fashion looks like."
A vein visibly pulsed against the stranger's forehead. Yet somehow, he still chuckled.
"Heh. How adorable. But no child could possibly understand true fashion."
He spread one arm dramatically toward himself. "For you see…"
His grin widened proudly.
"I am the fashion~"
'This guy…' A vein bulged on Gajeel's temple.
'It's like he's actively trying to make me mad.'
Meanwhile, the man was thinking nearly the exact same thing. 'This child…'
'He clearly knows nothing about elegance. I bet he doesn't even wear deodorant.'
'And yet somehow, it feels like he's intentionally trying to anger me…'
The man's brown eyes met Gajeel's crimson slit pupils. The air between them carried a strange, quiet intensity.
"As I was saying…" The man continued smoothly. "My name is José Porla."
He placed one hand against his chest before bowing slightly. "And I am the Guild Master of the wizard guild, Phantom Lord."
"Mine's Gajeel Lionheart," Gajeel introduced himself. "And I'm an Iron Dragon Slayer."
"Iron Dragon Slayer?" José raised an eyebrow slightly. "I can't say I've ever heard of such a title before."
He paused briefly before continuing. "Though, changing the subject… would you allow me to ask you a question?"
"What is it?" Gajeel gave a short nod.
"Tell me," José began calmly, "what exactly do you think a Guild is?"
"It's a place for people who can use magic," Gajeel answered. "Wizards. Mages. People like that."
"Not incorrect," José admitted. "But your answer is far too small."
He slowly folded his arms behind his back. "A Guild is an organization built around Mages and the work they perform."
"People from all across Fiore come to Guilds with requests. Escort missions. Monster exterminations. Investigations. Deliveries. Protection work."
"I've heard about that stuff," Gajeel said. "Those requests are called Jobs, right?"
"Guilds gather those Jobs, organize them, and send Mages out to complete them."
"More or less," José nodded. "It is how most Mages survive. They earn jewels, buy food, repair equipment, pay debts… keep living."
"Heh." A grin slowly spread across Gajeel's face. "So now I get it."
His red eyes narrowed knowingly. "You want me to join your Guild."
"Precisely," José confirmed without hesitation.
"You see, a Mage without a Guild lacks many things. Connections. Protection. Reliable work."
"Guilds give Mages purpose. Reputation." A faint smile crossed his lips. "And a place to belong."
Every Guild was led by a Guild Master, the one standing at the top.
The strongest voice in the room, and usually the strongest Mage as well.
Gajeel already knew that much. Still, he saw no real reason to join Phantom Lord.
"Why should I care?" Gajeel asked bluntly.
"Let's make something clear right now, old man."
His eyes sharpened. "I'd rather die than spend my life living for somebody else."
The grin vanished from his face. "So stop dancing around it."
"What do you really want?"
"What do I want?" José repeated softly.
Then he laughed. A low, dark laugh.
Leaning forward slightly, his eyes deepened with naked ambition. "I want the very name of Phantom Lord to carry weight across this country."
"I want people to hear our name and feel pressure crushing their lungs before we've even arrived."
Slowly, he spread his arms outward. "I want overwhelming density."
"Not merely power…" His smile widened.
"But quantity. Mages. Resources. Knowledge. Influence. Wealth. Fear."
"I want it all." A cold pride crept across his expression. "I will create a Guild whose foundation is not built upon childish ideals like friendship or unity…"
"But dominance. A place where the strong devour the strong to prove they deserve to stand at the top."
"And the weak?" José's tone lowered. "The weak will have only two choices."
"Climb…Or be crushed beneath those who did."
He placed a hand over his chest, directly above the Phantom Lord emblem hidden beneath his cloak. "That is the Guild I will build."
"Not a family." His smile became almost monstrous. "But a kingdom of monsters."
"A place full of monsters, huh…" Slowly, a wide, mania-filled grin stretched across Gajeel's face.
"That sounds fun." His crimson slit eyes locked directly onto José. "Show me your resolve, José.
A wicked smile spread across José's face.
Then, his eyes began to shine faintly.
The air around him suddenly grew heavy.
It became so dense that the very atmosphere trembled violently. The mountains of junk surrounding them groaned and rattled loudly beneath the pressure.
Metal screeched and steel warped. Loose scraps began vibrating against one another as though crying out in pain.
Then Gajeel felt it. A sickening sensation struck his body directly at its core.
His knees nearly buckled beneath an invisible weight.
'W-what the heck…?'
The world around José darkened.
A deep purple aura erupted outward from his body, staining the surroundings in an ominous glow.
"Well?" José's voice echoed calmly through the pressure. "Can you handle this?"
"This…" His smile widened slightly. "…is my aura.The embodiment of my resolve."
The winds around them exploded violently.
Gajeel's hair and clothing whipped wildly through the storm-like pressure while José's cape fluttered behind him like the wings of some demonic king.
Gajeel's expression twisted with panic. "What is this power?!" he shouted over the roaring wind.
"It makes me feel sick…!"
The pressure only continued increasing.
The metal beneath them shook harder and harder before suddenly splitting apart under the strain.
Chunks of steel burst apart and pipes ruptured.
Entire sections of scrap collapsed inward as everything around the two mages trembled violently.
"S-so much pressure…" Gajeel grit his teeth tightly. "I can feel it in my bones…"
Magic Pressure refers to the physical weight created by a Mage's immense Mahō.
The greater a Mage's Magic Power, the more overwhelming the pressure their aura exerted upon the world itself.
All Mages naturally radiated Mahō as an aura surrounding their bodies. For most, this presence remained subtle.
But for exceptionally powerful Mages, their magic became impossible to fully contain.
When a Mage's Mahō exceeded their ability to suppress or regulate it, excess energy leaked into the environment.
This phenomenon was known as Magic Pressure.
An oppressive aura capable of physically affecting the world around them.
Among Mages, the intensity of one's Magic Pressure was often seen as proof of the vastness and density of their Magic Power.
"I-I'm not scared of some stupid pressure…" Gajeel growled. His body trembled violently as he forced himself forward.
"It'll take more than this to break my will!" He took a single step.
The instant he did, José's aura intensified. The pressure exploded outward so violently it nearly threw Gajeel off his feet.
"T-this can't be…" Gajeel's entire body shook uncontrollably.
His arms trembled. His legs locked in place.
Fear crawled through every nerve in his body.
"This can't be happening…"
Memories of Metalicana surfaced in his mind.
[You will crush your enemies in close combat.]
[This magic is not a trick. It is not convenient.
It is transformation.]
"I'm supposed to be the strongest!" Gajeel roared desperately. "So why…?!"
[With power like a dragon's…]
[There's no way in hell I won't become the strongest.]
Every cell in Gajeel's body—
every bone—
every instinct—
screamed the exact same thing.
Run.
Even if Gajeel refused to admit it aloud, his body already had.
'If I fight this guy…' A cold realization pierced through him. 'I'm a dead man.'
The fear became overwhelming. His legs finally gave out completely.
Gajeel collapsed onto his knees.
For the first time in Gajeel Lionheart's life, he felt genuine fear.
'I…' His fists trembled against the metal beneath him. 'I don't want to fight this monster…'
Seeing Gajeel kneeling there, José slowly closed his eyes. Almost immediately, the crushing aura around him began fading away.
The violent winds died down.
The purple glow disappeared.
The pressure lifted.
Yet even after it vanished, the destruction remained.
And so did the fear.
"If I intend to create a kingdom filled with monsters…" José spoke calmly. "Then it is only natural that I become a greater monster than all of them."
Silence lingered briefly.
"...I'll do it." Gajeel's voice came quietly.
His hair hid his expression. "I'll join your Guild."
Slowly, he lifted his head toward José. "I'll become a monster too."
His crimson slit eyes burned fiercely despite the fear still lingering inside them.
"A monster that lives for combat."
"One that lives for its own desires."
Gajeel slowly rose back to his feet. "So let me join Phantom Lord…"
A grin slowly spread across his face again. "…Master José."
[Chapter Visuals]
Remove spaces: imgur . com / gallery / Zx2A8GJ
Gajeel Lionheart — Magical Aura & Ethernal Infusion Visuals.
A long-awaited visual of Metalicana will also be in the comments.