Born to Steal Gods ( Fairy Tail )

The afternoon light burst through the tattered curtains of the small room above the Anchor Tavern, yanking Lucius Draganov from a heavy sleep with an epic groan.

"Argh! My body feels like it was crushed by a pissed-off dragon!" he exclaimed, every muscle screaming as he dragged himself out of bed.

His shoulder throbbed from the previous night's blow, and bruises pulsed like echoes of a brutal fight. With unsteady steps, he stomped to the window and yanked the curtains open, the cool breeze whipping his face. His blue eyes, sharp as ice blades, scanned Hargeon below, the city buzzing like a restless swarm.

"Tch! Who would've thought, huh?" he muttered to himself, a sarcastic smile playing on his lips. "A few weeks ago, I was the king of the casino, drowning in luxury, money, and women galore! Now look at me: sprawled on a broken bed, all banged up, hunted by mages, and stuck in this ridiculous magic world! Never thought I'd sink this low!"

His gaze fell on the black cross on his right palm, faintly pulsing with a dim blue light, and the two golden rings with rubies on his left hand, a gift from his grandfather when he was 15, standing out with their elegant shine. The memory of that wise old man clashed with his current life, but he brushed it off with a mental wave, keeping his cold demeanor intact.

"Better keep my distance from Mara," he murmured to himself. "Can't drag her into this mess."

The scene shifted dramatically. In a Magic Council tent a few kilometers away, Garren Valtor opened his eyes with a hoarse groan, his body reduced to a wreck. His ribs screamed, his right leg was bound in a splint, and sweat poured like an untamed river.

Kazimir Veyl entered, the lean mage with jet-black hair and an icy stare, his sharp face like a knife, magical chains jingling like war bells. He stopped by the bed, arms crossed with an air of command.

"Valtor! You barely made it out alive!" Kazimir exclaimed, his voice slicing like a blade. "Spill everything about last night's fight! The Council wants every damn detail!"

Garren turned his head with effort, meeting Kazimir's gaze with exhausted eyes.

"Watch out for the Black Cloak, Kazimir!" he replied, his voice hoarse and shaky. "He's a magic monster! His water control is insanely precise. If it weren't for my iron magic holding me together, I'd be dead! He hit me with jets that tore through the air, and I could barely fight back!"

Kazimir tilted his head, his chains clinking as he listened intently.

"Got it!" he said. "But how did he take you down?"

"He was damn clever!" Garren continued, breathing heavily. "After wearing me out with relentless attacks, he shot a water jet that brought a whole wall down on me! My magical power was at its limit, and I couldn't hold up. If the fight had gone on longer, he'd have finished me for good!"

Kazimir nodded, his eyes glinting with curiosity.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"Yeah!" Garren replied, pausing for a moment. "During the fight, I noticed something about the Black Cloak. Besides the cloak and mask, he had two golden rings shining on his left hand! They stood out in the dark, the only detail I caught before he hit me."

Kazimir gave a cold smile, his chains tightening like coiled snakes.

"Golden rings, huh?" he exclaimed. "That could be a lead! I'll hunt this masked bastard myself! My chains will bind him, and the Council will grill him for everything! Recover fast to back me up!"

"He's quick and treacherous!" Garren warned, his voice faltering. "Don't underestimate his water magic!"

"I won't flinch!" Kazimir shot back, turning with determination. "We'll find him and end this mess!"

Leaving the tent, Kazimir gathered other Council mages, his voice ringing with authority.

"Listen up!" he said, eyes flashing. "The Black Cloak wears two golden rings—a detail that could lead us to him. Stay sharp for any clues!"

The scene snapped back to the Anchor Tavern with an epic leap. Lucius descended the stairs, already wearing his black cloak, the mask tucked into a pocket beneath the fabric. His movements were precise, his face devoid of emotion.

He found Mara scrubbing a table, her gaze lifting with a shadow of sadness.

"Thanks for letting me crash last night," Lucius said, his voice cold and direct.

Mara stopped, cloth in hand, and looked at him seriously.

"Get out, kid!" she replied, her tone firm. "Even if I wanted to help, I can't. Things are bad, and I'm not getting mixed up in this. You're an adult; you know your choices, even if this path is wrong!"

Lucius met her gaze, his eyes icy, and murmured to himself.

"Like my mother…"

Mara frowned, her expression hardening.

"Don't say that, kid!" she snapped. "Just go. I don't want to see where this path leads you!"

She turned away for a moment, muttering to herself in a low voice.

"Lucius doesn't seem like the same kid who showed up here… So cold, and his eyes now hide that stubborn boy from before."

Without responding, Lucius turned and left, his cloak billowing behind him. He walked through the streets toward the port, the sound of waves mixing with the chatter of patrolling mages, lacrima lanterns swaying in the breeze and reflecting in puddles.

Suddenly, his path crossed with a mage hired by some merchant. The man was on patrol, dressed in a simple uniform, hood low, expression cautious, gripping a staff tightly. The mage turned his head, casting a quick, suspicious glance at Lucius, his eyes catching the golden rings on Lucius's left hand.

Lucius returned the look with cold indifference, not recognizing the man, and kept walking without hesitation. As he stepped, the rings' gleam reflected under the lantern light, drawing the mage's attention. The mage paused, his body tensing, and slowly turned, watching Lucius fade into the port's shadows, his eyes fixed on those striking rings but staying silent, merely noting the scene mentally.

Lucius continued without looking back, arriving at an artifact shop in the heart of the market. The door's bell jingled as he entered, the air thick with dust and the scent of old wood.

Inside, a bald old man slept deeply behind the counter, his head resting on a dusty book, soft snores echoing in the silence. Lucius slammed the counter with a sharp knock, the sound cutting through the air.

"Hey, old man!" he said, his voice sharp as a blade. "I need something to sell that's useful in a fight."

The old man lifted his head slowly, sleepy eyes half-open, rubbing his face with a wrinkled hand, looking careless.

"Alright, kid," he grumbled, yawning loudly as he tossed a pile of artifacts onto the table: a dull metal necklace, a reinforced leather glove, and a cracked pendant with opaque stones. "Take your pick."

Lucius leaned in, examining the items with a critical eye, brows furrowed.

"What does each one do?" he asked, his voice firm and impatient.

"This necklace boosts movement precision, good for aim," the old man replied, pointing to the necklace. "This glove makes your hand tougher, great for blocking hits. The pendant… eh, I don't even know anymore, maybe it brings luck."

Lucius scoffed, his eyes narrowing with disdain.

"This is all junk," he said coldly. "I need something that boosts my magical power, something that amplifies it."

The old man leaned forward, a sarcastic smile curling his dry lips, his eyes glinting with interest.

"Well, look at that, kid!" he exclaimed, slamming the table with enthusiasm. "I've got a special item that might be just what you need! But it won't come cheap, got it?"