Chapter 5: The Dragon in the Cage
The two crimson orbs within the cage blazed, a wave of ancient amusement rippling through the abyss.
"I am not Igneel."
The denial was absolute, the voice a grinding of tectonic plates. Natsu stared, the hope that had momentarily flared snuffed out. "Who are you?" he demanded, his own voice sounding thin and young in the infinite dark.
"I am who you are," the dragon rumbled, the silhouette behind the bars shifting, scales of pure shadow clicking against the golden prison. "I am the end of your path. I am the dragon you will become. I am what makes you a Dragon Slayer… and what will one day make you a dragon."
A cold dread, colder than any of Gray's ice, seeped into Natsu's soul. Fragments of half-remembered warnings surfaced. "I… remember this," he muttered, more to himself. "Dragon Slayers… they literally become dragons if they keep using their magic. That's what Igneel told me." He looked up, meeting the hellish gaze. "Is that… is that going to happen to me now?"
A low, rumbling chuckle vibrated through the void. "Igneel… clever Igneel. He gave his life within you to quell that transformation. He thought he saved you. A noble sacrifice. But you…" The dragon's voice dipped into a tone of sinister delight. "You just unlocked something not seen in this world for a thousand years. You didn't just use Dragon Force, little spark. You tore a hole in your own destiny. And I am what spilled out."
Natsu's mind reeled, but one thing cut through the chaos: this entity knew. It knew exactly what had happened in the hut. He forced his voice steady. "Can you explain to me… what exactly it was that just happened? With the girl?"
"What you experienced was the Primal Domain," the dragon stated, as if lecturing a dull student. "A relic of a more desperate age. When dragon-kind faced extinction, when mates were scarce, the King would unleash a wave of pure, magical compulsion. A primal lust that would overwhelm the nearest viable female and himself. It ensures propagation. It is instinct, made manifest as a curse."
"A… domain?"
"A sphere of influence," the dragon clarified. "Within it, magic is silenced. Only base instinct remains. Animalistic lust. Possessive rage. It is a tool of last resort, reserved for dragons of the highest, purest order. Not for half-breeds who merely play with fire." The contempt in its voice was scalding.
Natsu felt the world, or the illusion of it, tilt. "What does this mean for me?"
"It means your path has diverged," the dragon intoned, its eyes glowing brighter. "Igneel saved you from becoming a dragon. But you have awakened the drive to become the Dragon. The Harem King."
"The… Harem King?" The term was so absurd, so antithetical to everything he was, that a hysterical laugh almost escaped him.
"What you felt was merely the first tremor," the dragon continued, ignoring his disbelief. "The first wave. The Domain is a pressure valve for the power now churning within you. The longer you go without bonding with another mate, without sating the instinct, the greater the pressure builds. The next wave will be more intense. You will lose all control. The Domain's radius will expand, ensnaring not one, but many."
The vision was horrifying. The guild hall. His friends. Erza, Mira, Levy, Cana… all caught in a wave of uncontrolled, magical lust because he couldn't keep a lid on it.
"You will rage. You will claim. You will become a beast. And eventually…" The dragon leaned its massive shadowed head closer to the bars, its voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. "Eventually, the beast will not recede. The man will be gone. And you will become me. The countdown has begun, Natsu Dragneel. Igneel saved you from me, but your own newfound… lust… has lit the fuse."
"NO!"
The denial was ripped from him, but it was drowned out by the dragon's laughter, a deep, echoing, evil sound that shook the golden bars and promised only oblivion. The laughter grew, consuming the darkness, vibrating in his teeth, his bones, his very soul until…
Thump.
He was on his hands and knees in the dirt of the hut, the early morning sun now a blade of light cutting across the floor. Cold sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. He gasped, air burning his lungs.
"Fuck," he spat, the word raw. "Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!"
He slammed a fist into the hard-packed ground. Once. Twice. Pain shot up his arm, a bright, clean counterpoint to the psychic horror. He did it again, skin splitting over his knuckles. "Get killed by a bunch of trucks… only to become a… a stupid dragon? A fucking… Harem King?!" The absurdity of it was a poison. He punched the ground again, leaving a smudge of blood in the earth.
Finally, the rage spent, he sat back on his heels, kneeling in the dust. He stared at his hands. The knuckles were swollen, bleeding, the skin torn. The physical pain was a focus, an anchor in the storm of his thoughts.
He closed his eyes. Breathed in. The air still smelled of Lucy, of sex, of fear.
It's cool. It's cool.
He repeated it like a mantra, forcing the panic down, trying to find the calculating core that had once worried about spreadsheet formulas. I can do this.
His mind, the part that was still Toshiro Hamada, began to inventory his assets, to build a plan from the wreckage.
Knowledge. I have knowledge.
He'd watched the first series, up to the Dragon King Festival. The details were fuzzy, but the broad strokes were there. Tartaros was a blur, the final Alvarez arc even more so. The 100 Year Quest manga? He'd barely skimmed it. He was no Fairy Tail encyclopedia. If this were Dragon Ball or One Piece, he'd be set. Here, he was working with half-remembered highlights and big spoilers.
But it was something.
Context.
Lucy said she'd been with the guild two weeks. This was the S-Class quest he'd stolen, the one that ended with Erza swooping in to save them from Lyon. So the immediate future… Phantom Lord? That fight with Gajeel? The details were murky.
The big picture.
He knew Zeref was alive, and that he, Natsu, was the Black Wizard's brother, a bomb waiting to go off. He knew about Acnologia, the attack, the seven years lost in time on Tenrou Island. He knew about Ultear, Gray's master's daughter, working with Jellal. He knew about Dragon Force.
It was a patchwork quilt of apocalyptic events and personal tragedies.
But it was a map. A terrible, incomplete map of minefields and cliffs, but a map nonetheless.
He opened his eyes, looking at his bloody hands not with despair, but with a grim focus. The blood was real. The pain was real. The problem was real.
"I can do this," he said aloud, his voice firmer now. "I may not be a fucking expert on this world. But I know enough to get powerful. I know enough to see the disasters coming."
He stood up, wiping his bloody knuckles on his black pants. The white scarf around his neck felt heavier than ever.
The goal was no longer just to survive in a new world. It was to race against a dragon-shaped clock inside his own soul. He had to get stronger, faster than the original Natsu ever did. He had to navigate the lustful urges without destroying the bonds he needed. He had to change fate, not just follow it.
He looked at the hut's entrance, towards the village where Lucy was somewhere, scared and confused.
Step one: Damage control.
Step two: Power.
Step three: Somehow, find a way to break a curse older than civilization.
A fierce, defiant grin spread across his face, this one was not forced. It was all teeth and grim determination.
"Alright," Natsu Dragneel said to the empty hut. "Let's get to work."