Digital edition: Available now
Print edition: Coming Dec 16, 2025
Artist Iwakuni Kogyo may not be the first to attempt a “silent” comic, but his approach to crafting Great Metal God is unusually quiet. There’s no dialogue, no captions, not even sound effects. The way he frames the tale centres on a mysterious, towering machine descending to Earth and—much like a Galactus-sized omen—prepares to make the world its. And unsurprisingly, it begins in modern-day Tokyo.
Although early marketing from Manga Mavericks suggested there might be explanatory text, that appears only in the introduction, solely to outline the inspiration and intention behind the work.
That inspiration comes from folklore. Kogyo’s core motif draws from the ancient ironworking deity Kanayago-kami—traditionally depicted as a goddess who guided tatara blacksmiths in the Chūgoku region. Rather than leaning into cheeky Ancient Alien tropes, the manga approaches this myth with sincerity. It avoids the usual “hokey religions and ancient weapons” wink, and instead treats metalcraft, divinity, and destruction as primal forces that move through the story like tectonic shifts.
Only two figures truly matter here: an evangelical metal god from space who devastates a major metropolis, and a lone priestess who must awaken another giant slumbering beneath the earth. It’s not quite Arthurian, but there’s something myth-cycle about it—the sense of an old power re-forged when a new threat descends.
Because this manga is wordless, every panel becomes an interpretive space. What one reader sees as cosmic judgment may feel, to another, like a Promethean parable or even a Sodom-and-Gomorrah-style reckoning. The alien giant’s “gift” to humanity is not benevolent; it alters the landscape, reshapes life, and erases civilization without mercy. The climax lands somewhere between Evangelion’s cataclysmic moments, Iron Giant’s emotional silhouette, and the operatic grandeur of Giant Robo.
Kogyo’s art style recalls Mitsuteru Yokoyama’s early mecha manga—dense inks, heroic scale, and expressive mechanical forms. Even his human character designs feel familiar, as though lifted from that lineage. While the narrative eventually leads back to the forge—the source of industry and mythic metalcraft—I found myself left with more questions than closure.
If this work gains the recognition it deserves, the real question becomes: how do you adapt a story like this into anime without losing the power of its silence?
4 Stars out of 5
Sidebar
Silent manga isn’t a mainstream subgenre, but it has a lineage. Artists like
Taiyō Matsumoto (Tekkon Kinkreet, Ping Pong) have created entire chapters without dialogue, and even Fujiko F. Fujio (Doraemon) experimented with silent shorts. The Gekiga movement played with long stretches of wordless expression, too. But a fully textless mecha narrative? That’s extremely rare. Kogyo’s one-shot may be one of the first to commit entirely to that approach and still deliver on scale, emotion, and myth.
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