Born to Steal Gods ( Fairy Tail )

Lucius left the square with a satisfied smile, his cloak billowing in the breeze as he headed toward the Anchor Tavern. The mission was complete, and the sensation of his newfound power pulsed in his chest. Now I'm a damn mage! he thought, his blue eyes gleaming with euphoria. His white hair, cut in a medium, slightly spiked style with blue-tipped streaks, swayed with each step. He entered the tavern, sat at a table, and, feeling hungry, called for Mara.

"Mara, bring me some food, I'm starving!" he said.

Mara, a middle-aged woman with a tired look, approached with an empty tray.

"Alright, kid. What do you want? Fish stew with bread's on the house today," she said.

"Get me the stew, then. And make it quick," Lucius replied, leaning back in his chair.

While waiting, curiosity about his new ability, [Water Manipulation], consumed him. He didn't know how to use it but decided to try. He stretched out his hand, making awkward gestures in the air, imagining water moving. Nothing happened. He frowned, focusing harder, but the effort was futile.

"Damn it," he muttered, his enthusiasm fading.

Mara returned with a bowl of stew and bread, setting them on the table.

"Here, eat something. You look like you've seen a ghost," she said.

Lucius grabbed the spoon, but his mind was elsewhere. He took a bite of bread, frustration eating at him. He rested his head in his hands, his face etched with discouragement. I've still got time to learn this magic, he thought, but doubt gnawed at him. He glanced at Mara, who was wiping a nearby table, and let out a murmur.

"Maybe talent's for people born with magic. Guys like me, who don't have it, just gotta find a job and live off that."

Mara turned, frowning.

"What're you saying, kid? Giving up on something?" she asked.

Lucius raised his voice, irritated.

"Damn it, keep quiet, let me handle it! As if I'd become a delivery boy for someone. Look at me, Mara, do I look like that kind of guy?" he said.

He let out a loud laugh, but the frustration returned. He tried the magic again, focusing on the stew, imagining the water rising. Nothing. Not a ripple. A bit of drool slipped out as he strained, exhausted, and he started making exaggerated hand gestures, trying to force the ability.

Mara, watching from a distance, stopped cleaning and crossed her arms, a mocking smile on her face.

"Alright, alright, turned into a circus mage now? No need for those antics, kid. Eat your stew before it gets cold!" she said.

Lucius stopped, turning to her with an annoyed expression.

"Chill, I'm training magic. Keep quiet and let me try!" he said.

Mara laughed, shaking her head.

"Training? Looks more like you're dancing to scare off flies. Come on, do a real trick if you're such a mage!" she said.

He scoffed, ignoring her, and kept gesturing, but no luck. Discouraged, he slammed his head on the table with a dull thud.

Mara, concerned, approached again.

"Here, you look exhausted. Relax a bit," she said, placing a glass of water in front of him.

Lucius, panting, looked at the water and pointed his hand, moving a finger. The water rose, forming a thread that danced in the air.

"Holy shit, so I can only manipulate it!" he exclaimed, eyes gleaming.

He guided the water in circles, laughing loudly. Mara dropped her rag, eyes wide.

What the hell? Is it that easy to become a mage? she thought, stunned. Lucius turned to her.

"See, Mara? Told you I'd learn. Now I'm a damn mage!" he said.

He laughed again, while Mara stood dumbfounded, trying to process it.

Inspired, Lucius spent the next hour experimenting in the tavern. He made the water form tiny waves, then a ring that orbited his head like a liquid crown. Each movement was instinctive, but the effort boosted his confidence. He shaped the water into simple forms—a sphere, a dancing fish—while the crowd of patrons watched in silence. Hours passed, and he felt his strength draining. His arms trembled, and cold sweat dripped from his forehead. Suddenly, he shot a water jet at the wall, but the move left him so weak he nearly fell from his chair.

"Damn, I'm exhausted… feels like I ran a marathon," he muttered, panting, gripping the table for support.

Pensive, he leaned back, mind racing. Is it because of the magical power? Is this eating up my magical power? The idea unsettled him, and he fell silent, staring at the empty glass. Can I only manipulate it like Kaelith did? He could make water appear from nothing, move it in the air, turn it into fish and stuff. Why can't I do that? Frustration mixed with curiosity. He recalled Kaelith conjuring water spheres from the damp square's ground, something he couldn't replicate.

"Maybe I need a source… but why can't I create it like he did?" he murmured, scratching the back of his neck.

The next day, determined to understand better, he went to the market and bought a waterskin for 30 Jewels, filling it at a nearby fountain. He tucked it under his cloak at his waist. He walked to a deserted area outside the city, a stretch of dunes and wind-carved rocks. There, he opened the waterskin and let the water flow into a natural rock basin. He started training, guiding the water in smooth arcs, then shooting jets against a stone wall. The impact was strong, but the rock held. He adjusted his aim and shaped the water into a thin blade, leaving a visible groove.

"Hell yeah! I can turn it into a weapon," he thought.

He spent hours refining his movements. He tested quick cuts, redirecting jets at sharp angles, and shaped the water into sharp forms—a liquid spear, a water net. Each attempt made him more confident but also exhausted. After a particularly intense jet, his legs gave out, and he fell to his knees, body trembling.

"Damn, my magical power's at its limit," he grumbled, wiping sweat from his forehead.

He knew he needed to manage his energy better, but the ability fascinated him. With the waterskin nearly empty, he closed it and started back to the city, the sun setting on the horizon.

As he reached Hargeon's streets, twilight cast long shadows through the alleys. He headed to the usual alley where the thugs gathered. There, he found the three—big guy with the scar, scrawny, and shorty—crouched in the shadows, visibly terrified. Their faces were pale, eyes wide, and the big guy trembled while clutching a dirty rag.

"Boss!" the scrawny one exclaimed, voice shaky. "They're almost onto us! They've caught almost all our guys. Only two are left in another city, and us. Just us three!"

The big guy swallowed hard, eyes wide with fear.

"I almost got caught by the Magic Council, boss! Barely escaped. There are tons of mages with tracking magic, it's almost impossible to stay safe," he said.

Lucius frowned, analyzing the situation.

"Look, those two Council mages who arrived in the city are strong. They're cleaning up the place. It's not easy to escape them," the shorty added, his voice almost a whisper, nervously glancing around.

A tense silence hung, the air thick with fear. Lucius studied the three for a moment, thoughts racing. Then, he took a deep breath and spoke firmly.

"Best option now is to blend in. Go to the market, buy new clothes, something that doesn't scream bandit. We'll use this to our advantage if we can. Stay calm, don't draw attention. Be careful not to make noise, and lay low until the heat dies down," he said.

The thugs nodded quickly, still scared, and began to scatter into the shadows, leaving Lucius alone in the alley. He adjusted his cloak, feeling the weight of the empty waterskin, and his gaze turned cold. These guys… I might have to cut the problem at the root. These three could screw me over, he thought, anger flaring for a moment. But he let the thought fade, turning and walking away. His mind now turned to the next step.

"How do I get rid of these Council mages? Those two are strong… I'll have to outsmart them," he murmured, determined to plan a strategy. "What do I do from here? I need something big."