Born to Steal Gods ( Fairy Tail )

Lucius Draganov stepped out of the alley, the knife tucked into his belt and his hands clutching Jewels and a crumpled map. Hargeon's lights glowed around him, with magical lanterns hanging in the streets and the sound of laughter and music drifting from somewhere. He paused for a moment, his blue eyes lost on the port's towers, his mind racing with everything the thug had told him. Hargeon. Fiore. A world of magic, guilds, and some guy named Natsu Dragneel, a fire mage who burned cities like it was nothing. Magic Council. Dragon Slayer. He glanced at the dragon tattoo on his right arm, a raw design with black scales and red eyes that he called a tattoo, but which seemed alive under the moonlight. Then he looked at the black cross on his hand, pulsing with a bluish glow, as if mocking him.

"Magic, huh?" he murmured, his crooked smile appearing. "How do you use this crap?"

He thought of the black-cloaked messenger, the limbo, the [Theft] ability. If it was magic, how did he make fire shoot out or move water or whatever? The cross on his hand stung faintly, but gave no hints. He scoffed, running a hand through his white hair with blue streaks, still caked with mud.

"This ancient God must be laughing his ass off," he grumbled. "Throws me into a circus of mages and doesn't give me the manual."

Suddenly, his stomach growled so loudly he grimaced, clutching his belly.

"Damn, I'm starving," he said, his voice thick with irritation. "Gotta eat something before this place kills me for good."

He scanned the surroundings, the streets lined with stalls and shops, most already closing. Then he spotted a wooden building with a swinging sign: a tavern, with warm lights spilling from the windows and the sound of clinking mugs, laughter, and someone playing an out-of-tune guitar. The smell of roasted meat and fresh bread hit him, making his stomach growl again.

"That'll do," he murmured, his crooked smile returning.

He walked to the tavern, pushing the door open with his shoulder. The place was pure chaos, like something out of Fairy Tail. Tables were packed with bearded men, women in colorful cloaks, and odd types who looked half-human, half-beast. One group played cards that sparked with light, another toasted with mugs that floated on their own. In the corner, a drunk mage tried to conjure a fireball but only singed his own beard, drawing roars of laughter. The air smelled of beer, sweat, and magic, with a hint of smoke from enchanted cigars.

Lucius paused at the entrance, his eyes sweeping the room. He was a mess: torn pants, bare chest showing off the dragon mark he called a tattoo, but which others saw as something strange and supernatural. The black cross glowed on his hand, the Patek Philippe gleamed on his wrist, and the ruby rings shone on his fingers. Everyone stared, whispers starting again, many pointing at the odd mark on his arm and the cross on his hand. He ignored them, as always, and headed straight for the counter, where a woman in her thirties, with red hair tied in a bun and a stained apron, was wiping mugs.

"Hey, you," Lucius said, slapping two Jewels on the counter. "I'm hungry. Get me food, something to drink, and…" He paused, glancing around. "Got rooms here? I need a bath and a place to crash."

The bartender raised an eyebrow, her green eyes sizing him up. She noticed the dragon mark on his arm and the cross on his hand, frowning for a moment, but then gave an amused smile, like she found him entertaining.

"Outsider, huh?" she said, her voice firm but with a touch of warmth. "Those coins barely cover food and drink. A room's pricier, bath included. Got more of those… Jewels?"

Lucius scoffed, his crooked smile appearing.

"Jewels, that's what they're called?" he said, tossing two more coins on the counter. "Fine, take these. But the food better be good, and the room better not have fleas."

The bartender laughed softly, pocketing the coins in her apron.

"Relax, kid," she said, her tone friendly. "This is the Anchor Tavern. Food's decent, room's clean, and the fleas only bite those who deserve it. Sit over there, I'll bring something."

Lucius gave a low laugh, leaning on the counter.

"I like you," he said, his tone half-sarcastic. "What's your name?"

She crossed her arms, her smile still in place.

"Mara," she said. "And yours, kid?"

"Lucius," he replied, his crooked smile widening. "And don't get used to me, Mara. I don't stick around places like this for long."

Mara snorted, returning to her mugs, but with a playful glint in her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah," she said. "Every outsider says that. Now go sit before I charge you for the air you're breathing."

Lucius gave another low laugh and headed to a corner table, ignoring the stares of the other patrons, who were still whispering about the strange mark on his arm. He slumped into the chair, his body still aching from the forest and the alley fight. As he waited, his mind went back to what the thug had said. Natsu Dragneel, a mage who used dragon fire, wrecking half of Hargeon's port six months ago. Fairy Tail, a guild full of crazies. Magic Council, calling the shots. He looked at the cross on his hand, pulsing faintly.

"If this is magic, how do I use it?" he muttered, clenching his fist. "And this Natsu… what kind of guy burns a city and walks away?"

Mara arrived with a tray, snapping him out of his thoughts. She brought a steaming plate of meat stew with potatoes, a crusty loaf of bread, and a mug of beer that glowed faintly, as if laced with magic. Lucius raised an eyebrow.

"Glowing beer?" he said, his tone half-mocking. "Not gonna turn me into a frog, right?"

Mara laughed, setting the tray down.

"Just enchanted hops beer," she said. "Relax, Lucius. If you turn into a frog, I'll give you a discount on the room."

Lucius gave a crooked smile, grabbing the mug.

"Nice one, Mara," he said, taking a swig. The beer was strong, with an unexpected sweet kick. "Not whiskey, but it'll do."

He tore into the stew, hunger overriding his suspicion. As he ate, he noticed the other patrons. A group of mages played dice that changed color, another debated a mission involving a "wyvern in the mountains." He shook his head, still unable to believe he was in a world like this.

"So, Mara," he said between bites, calling to the bartender as she passed. "How does this magic thing work? Like, can anyone shoot fire or make water dance?"

Mara stopped, wiping her hands on her apron, and gave him a curious smile.

"You're really from out of town, huh?" she said. "Magic's… I don't know, like breathing for a lot of people here. Some are born with it, others learn it. There's all kinds: fire, ice, wind, even magic to make cakes rise. But it takes training, and sometimes special items. Why? Thinking of becoming a mage?"

Lucius gave a low laugh, glancing at the cross on his hand.

"Maybe," he said, his tone sarcastic. "Just… figuring out the game."

Mara tilted her head, her smile warming.

"You know, Lucius, you seem like a decent guy," she said, her voice friendly. "Fun, with that way of talking. So here's a tip: magic's no joke. And with that cross on your hand, you might attract trouble. Watch yourself out there."

Lucius looked at the cross, his crooked smile fading for a moment. He hadn't expected the kindness, but gave a slight nod.

"Thanks, Mara," he said, his tone less mocking this time. "I'll keep an eye out."

Mara shrugged, heading back to the counter.

"That's it, kid," she said over her shoulder. "Don't make me clean blood off the floor, alright?"

Lucius chuckled, finishing his food. He pushed the tray aside and stood.

"And the room?" he asked, tossing another Jewel onto the counter.

Mara caught the coin, pointing to a staircase in the back.

"Second floor, third room on the right," she said. "There's a tub in there. Don't break anything, outsider."

Lucius gave a mocking wave and climbed the stairs, his body begging for rest. The room was simple: a bed with a worn quilt, a wobbly table, and a tin tub in the corner. He locked the door, tossed the knives and map on the table, and headed straight for the tub, filling it with hot water from a faintly glowing faucet—more magic, he figured. He sank into the water, feeling the tension of the past days melt away, but his mind kept racing. The cross on his hand, the dragon tattoo, the messenger, Natsu… it was all a mystery.

After the bath, he collapsed onto the bed, but sleep wouldn't come. He needed answers. He needed to understand this magic thing and how to use the [Theft] ability. He looked at the few Jewels he had left and decided: tomorrow, he'd figure it out.

The next morning, Lucius woke to sunlight streaming through the window. He went downstairs, still in his tattered pants that were more an insult to fashion than clothing. The Anchor Tavern was quieter now, with only a few patrons eating breakfast and sweeping up enchanted crumbs that glowed on the floor. Mara was behind the counter, wiping mugs, and looked up when she saw him.

"Morning, Lucius!" she said with a smile. "Sleep well, or did the fleas adopt you?"

Lucius gave a low laugh, leaning on the counter with his crooked smile.

"Morning, Mara," he said, his tone mocking. "Slept like a king, but look at these clothes. I look like a rag that fell off a ship. Where's a clothing store around here? I need something that doesn't make me look like a beggar."

Mara laughed, pointing at him with a mug in hand.

"Rag's generous, kid," she said, amused. "There's a good shop at the market, near the port. Called 'Thread of Fate.' They sell cloaks, tunics, boots—everything mages and outsiders like you wear. Just follow the main street and turn at the fountain square."

Lucius nodded, pulling the crumpled map from his pocket. He opened it, frowning. The map showed the kingdom of Fiore, with cities like Magnolia, Crocus, and Hargeon, but no street details. He scoffed, pocketing it.

"This map's useless," he grumbled. "Thanks, Mara. I'm heading there before they mistake me for walking trash."

Mara laughed again, shaking her head.

"Good luck, Lucius," she said. "And don't spend all your Jewels on fancy cloaks, alright?"

He gave a mocking wave and left the tavern, Hargeon's sun hitting his face. Following Mara's directions, he found Thread of Fate near the port, its window filled with flowing cloaks and embroidered tunics. Using some Jewels, he bought a tight black shirt, dark pants that didn't look like they'd come from a shipwreck, a dark leather vest, and sturdy boots that wouldn't sink in mud. He also grabbed a long, dark cloak with a hood that covered his whole body, hiding the dragon mark on his arm and the cross on his hand. He knew the tattoo was stylish, but Fiore's hicks kept whispering about the "weird mark," and he didn't want to draw attention. As an outsider, it was better not to risk trouble.

"This tattoo's pure style," he muttered, adjusting the cloak. "But these idiots don't know what it is, and I'm not in the mood to be a circus act."

He added a belt with a sheath for the knife, keeping the Patek Philippe on his wrist and the ruby rings on his fingers, now half-hidden by the cloak. With his clothes sorted, he wandered the market, eyes sharp. He wanted answers about magic. Passing stalls of potions and wands, he spotted an old bookstore tucked in an alley. Its facade was rotting wood, with a faded sign that read "Twilight Tome." The windows were dusty, and the air around it felt heavier, as if the shop held a secret.

Lucius pushed the door open, a rusty bell jingling. The interior was a maze of crooked shelves stuffed with books that looked older than time. Yellowed scrolls were piled on the floor, and the smell of mold mixed with something sweet, like ancient incense. A hunched old man with crooked glasses and a tattered cloak slept behind the counter, snoring softly. Lucius ignored him and started browsing.

The books had strange titles: Circles of Ether, Runes of the Abyss, The Veil of Mana. Some were written in a weird language, with symbols that seemed to dance on the page. To his surprise, he could understand them. The words made sense, as if someone had planted the language in his head. He frowned, glancing at the black cross on his hand, which pulsed stronger.

"What the hell is this?" he muttered, his heart racing. "Is it because of this cross? The messenger? The limbo?"

He grabbed a book called Principles of Magical Flow and flipped through it. It described magic as a force drawn from the body and soul, shaped by training and intent. Another, Catalog of Primary Magics, listed types: fire, ice, wind, even rare magics like "essence theft." Lucius stopped, eyes wide.

"Theft…" he whispered, his crooked smile returning. "So that's it."

He gathered a few books—on learning magic, what magic was, anything that seemed useful for activating [Theft]—and tossed some Jewels on the counter, waking the old man, who grumbled about "impatient youngsters." Lucius left with the books under his arm, his mind racing. The cross on his hand, the strange language, the ability… it was all connected, and he was going to figure out how.