Born to Steal Gods ( Fairy Tail )

Lucius Draganov stepped out of the Twilight Tome with a crooked smile, clutching two dusty books that smelled of old paper and possibilities. The rusty bell jingled behind him as he slung the bag of books over his shoulder. They weren't treasure, but they'd do. The books, Basics of Magic for Beginners and First Steps in Magical Flow, were as basic as it got. They explained how to sense magical energy in the body, focus the mind to cast simple spells, and use gestures or words as triggers. Beginner stuff—lighting a spark, conjuring a light breeze, or moving a glass. No advanced, dark, or forbidden magic, which he suspected he'd only find in black markets or hidden libraries in cities like Crocus or Magnolia. For now, these were what he needed to understand this new world.

"If this is magic, I'm starting from scratch," he muttered, his tone mocking. "But this cross on my hand better do something."

The black cross sat quietly on his right hand, doing nothing. He shrugged, adjusting the long hooded cloak that covered his body. Time to head back to the Anchor Tavern and dig into the books.

But when he reached into his pocket, he felt only a few Jewels clinking. He frowned, counting the coins. It was pathetic. The room, food, clothes, cloak, books—everything had drained him dry. He scoffed, his crooked smile turning into a grimace.

"Damn, I'm practically begging," he grumbled. "Time to make some cash."

Suddenly, he remembered the three thugs who tried to rob him in the alley yesterday. The big guy with the scar on his cheek, the scrawny one with greasy hair, and the short one with a rusty knife he could barely hold. They were weak, but had potential if someone guided them right. Lucius chuckled, his blue eyes glinting with an idea. He was good at this: manipulating, leading, profiting.

"Those guys are gonna be my pawns," he said, his tone sarcastic. "Let's play this game."

With the hood covering his face, he crossed Hargeon's market, the bag of books swinging. The streets were bustling, with mages selling smoking vials, fishermen shouting about enchanted fish, and kids running with wands that shot sparks. He ignored the chaos, heading straight for the alley where he'd beaten the thugs. If he knew their type, they'd be there, licking their wounds.

And they were. The big guy sat on a crate, scratching his scar, while the scrawny and short ones whispered, plotting some half-baked theft. Lucius approached, his cloak billowing, and cleared his throat loudly. The three spun around, eyes wide.

"Y-you!" the scrawny one stammered, nearly falling backward. "The knife guy! Please, don't do anything, we don't want trouble!"

The big guy raised his hands, trembling.

"Sorry, sorry!" he said. "We were just… you know, surviving!"

The short one clutched his rusty knife, but his hand shook so much it looked pathetic.

Lucius crossed his arms, his crooked smile gleaming under the hood.

"Relax, you idiots," he said, his voice calm but with a chilling edge. "I'm not here to break you. I'm here to offer… a deal."

The thugs exchanged confused glances. Lucius stepped forward, slowly removing the Patek Philippe from his wrist. The watch was a relic from his world, but in Fiore, it was just a shiny paperweight. Its hands were frozen, useless in a place where no one used that kind of tech. He dangled the watch, its ruby inlays glinting in the sun. The thugs' eyes nearly popped out.

"Gentlemen," he said, his tone mocking, swinging the watch like a pendulum. "I need manpower, and you're perfect. Sell this watch. It's worth a few hundred Jewels for the shine and stones. Bring me 80% of the cash this afternoon, right here in this alley. In return, I'll teach you how to make real money, not this pickpocketing crap. What do you say? A chance to fill your pockets instead of getting beat."

The scrawny one swallowed hard, staring at the watch.

"Eighty percent?" he asked hesitantly. "What's left for us?"

Lucius gave a low laugh, tossing the watch to the big guy, who caught it with shaky hands.

"Twenty percent is more than you've ever seen," he said. "And there's more: I'll teach you real scams. Clean thefts, how to trick merchants without leaving a trace. Professional stuff."

The short one, still holding his knife, asked in a hoarse voice:

"What if we run off with the watch?"

Lucius stepped closer, his crooked smile taking on a dangerous edge.

"I know where you hide," he said, his voice low. "And if you betray me, it won't just be a knife you'll see. Got it?"

The three nodded quickly, fear mixed with greed in their eyes. Lucius clapped his hands, his tone back to sarcastic.

"Great!" he said. "This afternoon, here in the alley. Don't make me wait."

The thugs scurried off, the watch clutched against the big guy's chest. Lucius chuckled, adjusting his cloak. The watch was useless in Fiore, but those idiots were drooling over the shiny stones. Controlling them? That was worth gold.

That afternoon, Lucius returned to the alley, hood up and cloak billowing in the salty port breeze. The three thugs were already there, nervous, with a sack of Jewels in the big guy's hand. The scrawny one stepped forward, hesitant.

"We sold it," he said, his voice trembling. "A jeweler paid 300 Jewels. Here's… 240 Jewels. Eighty percent, like you wanted."

Lucius took the sack, weighing it in his hand. He opened it, counting quickly, and gave a crooked smile.

"Good job, you idiots," he said. "Didn't try to screw me. That's a start."

The short one, bolder now, asked:

"Now what? You said you'd teach us."

Lucius leaned against the alley wall, crossing his arms.

"I see potential in you, but you're raw," he said, his tone like he was stating the obvious. "Pickpocketing is kid stuff. I'll teach you two scams to start. Pay attention, because I don't repeat."

He pointed at the big guy.

"First, the 'lost merchant.' You, big guy, pretend to be a local guide. Approach a new merchant at the port, someone fresh off the boat and lost. Say you know a shortcut to the guild or market. Lead them through some alleys, then you two"—he pointed at the scrawny and short ones—"show up as 'thieves.' Big guy 'saves' the merchant, who's so grateful they pay a fat tip. Split the cash, and the sucker never knows it was staged."

The thugs exchanged looks, their eyes gleaming. The scrawny one grinned.

"That's… damn clever," he said.

Lucius scoffed, continuing.

"Second scam: 'fake auction.' You grab cheap trinkets, like rings or pendants, and say they're enchanted. Scrawny, you're the seller, shouting in the market that it's a rare relic. Shorty, you blend into the crowd and make fake bids to drive up the price. Big guy, you keep watch to make sure no one gets suspicious. Sell to some fool for ten times the value, then vanish before the trinket fizzles out."

The big guy scratched his head.

"What if someone notices?" he asked.

Lucius gave a low laugh, his crooked smile widening.

"Then you run," he said. "Or learn to fight, you useless lot. But if you do it right, no one notices. Start tomorrow. Bring me 80% of everything you make. Meet me here at night, so it doesn't look obvious. Any questions?"

The three shook their heads, still stunned by the lesson. Lucius tossed the sack of Jewels over his shoulder.

"Then get lost," he said. "And don't disappoint me."

The thugs nodded and scurried out of the alley, already whispering about the scams. Lucius chuckled, heading back to central Hargeon. Those guys were perfect puppets, and he didn't even need to get his hands dirty.

Back at the Anchor Tavern, the place was quiet, with a few patrons eating breakfast and sweeping enchanted crumbs that glowed on the floor. Mara was behind the counter, wiping mugs, and looked up when Lucius walked in, his cloak billowing and the bag of books over his shoulder.

"Well, look at that!" she said with an amused smile. "Not looking like a beggar anymore, Lucius. Now you look like a real mage, or, I don't know, one of those adventurers who hunt wyverns. Just missing a shiny wand."

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

"Wand?" he said, his tone sarcastic. "I'd rather have a knife, Mara. And I'm no mage… yet. But adventurer? Maybe. Get me a beer to celebrate my new look."

Mara snorted, grabbing a mug and filling it with faintly glowing beer.

"Celebrating with beer in the morning?" she said, handing it over. "You're a character, kid. But tell me, what's in that bag? Don't tell me you turned into a student."

Lucius took a swig, the sweet, strong taste hitting nicely.

"Maybe," he said, winking. "Just trying to figure out how not to blow this place up by accident."

Mara laughed, returning to her mugs.

"Yeah, yeah," she said. "Just don't set my tavern on fire, alright?"

Lucius gave another low laugh and headed upstairs, locking his room's door. He tossed the bag on the bed, opened the books, and started studying. The pages explained how to sense magical energy: close your eyes, breathe deeply, imagine a warmth in your chest. After a few tries, he felt a faint tingling, like a weak electric current. That was mana, as the books called it. He smiled, thinking he was making progress. But simple spells, like lighting a candle or moving a glass, were another story. He tried, pointing at a glass on the table, muttering the book's words, mimicking the gestures. Nothing. He tried again, focusing until his head hurt. Nothing. The cross on his hand stayed silent. He threw the book at the wall, pissed off.

"What the hell is this?!" he growled, running a hand through his white hair. "I'm feeling this damn mana, so why's nothing happening? I'm doing everything right, damn it!"

Over the week, Lucius dove headfirst into studying and organizing the gang while getting used to Fiore's world. He spent his days at the Anchor Tavern, at the corner table, books open and a notebook full of scribbles. Each day had a routine: wake early, eat Mara's hot bread for breakfast, and read until his eyes burned. At night, he met the thugs in the alley, collected his cut of the Jewels, and gave instructions for new scams.

On the first day, he focused on understanding mana. The books said every mage had a reserve of magical energy, channelable with training. He spent hours cross-legged on his room's floor, breathing deeply, trying to feel the warmth in his chest. After much effort, the tingling came, weak but steady. He noted: "Mana's like a battery. I'm feeling it, but I don't know how to turn the damn engine on." He tried a spark spell, pointing at a candle. Nothing. He cursed, kicking the table.

On the second day, he returned to the Twilight Tome with the thugs' Jewels and bought two more books: Fundamentals of Practical Magic and Guide to Simple Spells. He thought the first ones might be too vague. The new books explained how precise gestures and words triggered spells, with examples like conjuring a breeze or lifting a feather. He tried the breeze, waving his hand as instructed, saying "Ventus" firmly. Nothing. The feather on the floor didn't budge. He tore a page from his notebook, furious.

"These books are a joke!" he grumbled. "Either I'm an idiot, or something's wrong with me."

On the third day, he studied Fiore's magic concepts. The books mentioned guilds like Fairy Tail, which took missions, and the Magic Council, which regulated everything. He learned mages used lacrima, magical crystals, for things like communication and transport, and that magic came from a body-soul connection. He got the logic: mana was the energy, the spell was the command. But in practice, nothing. He tried moving a glass, focusing mana in his chest, pointing with two fingers. The glass stayed put. He slammed his forehead on the table, cursing.

"Damn it, I get how it works! Why's nothing happening?!"

On the fourth day, he overheard Mara talking to customers about local mages doing shows at the port, creating lights or winds with magic. Curious, he went to the counter and asked:

"How do those guys do that light crap?" he said, feigning disinterest.

Mara laughed, wiping a mug.

"Training, Lucius," she said. "And talent. Not everyone's born with the gift, you know? Some take years to spark a flame."

Lucius scoffed, returning to his room. He tried again, this time with a light spell, "Lumen," pointing at the ceiling. Nothing. He tossed the book onto the bed, anger rising.

"Talent? Gift? Screw that!" he growled. "I'm feeling the damn mana!"

On the fifth day, he dug into the strange language in the books' footnotes and diagrams. It was different from Fiore's language, but he could read it, like it was instinct. He sketched the symbols in his notebook, suspecting they were tied to the messenger or limbo. He tried using a symbol as a trigger for a spark spell, tracing it in the air. Nothing. He crumpled the paper, pissed, and went to the port for air, where he saw the gang pulling off the "fake auction" successfully. It calmed him a bit, but the magic frustration still burned.

On the sixth day, he went back to the books, reviewing everything. He understood that Fiore's magic was divided into types: elemental (fire, water), celestial (summoning spirits), and support (healing, illusion). His [Theft] ability didn't fit anywhere, making him think it might be unique. He tried one last spell, lifting a feather with "Levitas." The feather stayed on the floor. He kicked the chair, yelling:

"What the hell's wrong with me?! I get it all, I feel the mana, and nothing works!"

By the seventh day, he was more familiar with Fiore. He knew how guilds worked, the currency (Jewels), the Magic Council's politics, and even the port's daily life. The books taught him the logic of magic: mana, intent, trigger. He could feel the mana easily now, a strong tingling in his chest, but the spells still wouldn't work. He stared at the black cross, confused.

"Are you screwing me over?" he muttered, clenching his fist. "Or am I just useless?"

Over the week, the gang grew. The three thugs—big guy, scrawny, and shorty—mastered Lucius's scams. The "lost merchant" and "fake auction" were paying off, and Jewels flowed steadily. Lucius took 80%, while the thugs were happy with 20% and the promise of more. They recruited others, and the gang grew to 12, including a low-level mage who used illusions to make the scams more convincing. They dominated Hargeon's port, tricking merchants, stealing cargo, and charging "protection" from stalls. The gang's reputation spread, and the leader, "the guy in the black cloak and hood," became a legend. No one knew it was Lucius, except the original three. He only met them at night in the alley, his dark cloak and hood keeping him a mystery. The other members never saw his face.

At the tavern, Lucius spent his days at the corner table, surrounded by books and mugs of enchanted beer. Mara brought food and jokes.

"Turned into a mage yet, Lucius?" she asked on the last day, setting down a plate of stew.

"Not even close," he said, his crooked smile forced. "Give me a few days, and maybe I'll make you float, Mara."

She laughed, shaking her head.

"Float? Only if it's to help the fleas find you easier!"

Lucius chuckled, but his mind was elsewhere. He understood Fiore now: the magic, guilds, money, mages. But he couldn't cast a single spell, and it was killing him. The gang was growing too fast, and port rumors said merchants were hiring mages for protection. The name "black cloak" was on everyone's lips. He needed to figure out what was wrong with his magic soon, before his fame turned into trouble.