Born to Steal Gods ( Fairy Tail )

Night had fallen over Hargeon, the dark sky speckled with timid stars, as if a storm heavy with lightning and thunder loomed on the horizon. The once-vibrant streets were now cloaked in oppressive gloom, the sound of waves crashing against the port mingling with the distant clamor of a city in chaos.

Hidden in the narrow, damp alleys, Lucius Draganov prepared for what was coming. With precise movements, he pulled the water gourd from under his tattered cloak and filled it to the brim with water from a nearby puddle, the liquid glowing faintly under the dim light.

Next, he fastened the gray bracelet with magical runes on his left arm, feeling the blue sphere pulse against his skin like a living heart. With a firm tug, he shed the old cloak, its torn seams falling to the ground like dry leaves, and slipped on the polished black leather boots, which hugged his feet perfectly.

Finally, he donned the new black overcoat, knee-length with aligned silver buttons and a deep hood that framed his figure, transforming him into an imposing, mysterious silhouette—like the hooded, dual-masked figure manipulating water with mastery that he envisioned.

His new appearance was striking: the thick, slightly billowing overcoat.

He knew it was only a matter of time before the Council mages tracked him down, and the weight of the impending hunt hung in the air like a storm cloud.

Lucius sat on a rotting wooden crate in the alley's darkness, the creak of the wood under his weight echoing softly. He took a green apple, bought earlier at the market, and ate it slowly, juice dripping down his fingers as he chewed in silence.

Then, he closed his eyes, entering a deep meditative state, his breathing syncing with the pulse of magical power around him. He absorbed the environment's energy, feeling it flow like an invisible river into his body, strengthening his water magic for the looming confrontation.

Meanwhile, the city plunged into total chaos. Shouts echoed through the streets, Council mages darted back and forth, their staves casting tracking spells that lit the sky with ethereal lines of light. At the city gate, guards armed with lacrima barriers set up barricades, blocking any exit, while at the port, other mages patrolled the boats, interrogating fishermen and sailors with loud, authoritative voices. The sound of boots on pavement and the clink of magical chains filled the air, blending with the cries of frightened children and the noise of doors being kicked in.

In the Magic Council's tent, lit by glowing lacrimas, Kazimir Veyl spoke with Garren Valtor, who was still recovering on an improvised bed, his body bandaged and face pale. Kazimir stood with hands behind his back, chains faintly clinking, plotting on a crumpled map.

"Garren, we're tightening the net," Kazimir said, his voice firm and brimming with confidence. "Tracking mages are spread across Hargeon, and the old man's description confirms it: white hair, black cloak. It's only a matter of time before we catch him. My chains will make sure he doesn't escape this time."

Garren, with a crooked smile despite the pain, let out a hoarse laugh that made his chest ache.

"Hahaha! Kazimir, you're a genius, my friend!" he exclaimed, eyes gleaming with admiration. "I always knew your strategic mind would take us to the top. Taking down the Black Cloak will be the final blow against these renegades! Keep it up, and soon we'll be toasting in Fiore's strongest guild!"

Kazimir nodded, a faint, cold smile crossing his face.

"Get ready, Garren. When he falls, you'll stand by my side," he replied, turning to leave and coordinate the next moves.

Meanwhile, in the Anchor Tavern, Mara stood in the room where Lucius used to stay, her eyes fixed on the fogged window. Outside, the chaos was visible: magical lights sliced through the darkness, and mages' shadows moved like specters. Her heart tightened with worry and sadness, a trembling sigh escaping her lips as she thought of Lucius's fate.

"Oh, Lucius… what have you gotten yourself into?" she murmured, her voice choked.

She sat on the unmade bed, hands tracing the crumpled sheets, recalling their silly tavern talks. She chuckled alone, remembering how he teased her with jokes about rowdy customers or their debates over the day's stew. But reality snapped her back, and she stood, resolved to leave the room.

Then, she noticed something under the bed—a jagged shadow that caught her eye. Curious, she knelt, her hesitant hands feeling the dusty floor. She grabbed something heavy with both hands and pulled hard, her joints creaking from the effort. It was a massive sack of jewels, overflowing with Jewel coins, Fiore's currency, glinting on some golden pieces.

Tears streamed down her face, carving salty paths on her wrinkled cheeks. She fell to her knees, the heavy sack in her hands, her voice trembling as she spoke.

"Foolish boy… I hope you don't die for this," she said, sobbing, fingers clutching the sack's fabric as if she could hold Lucius through it. "Why leave this here? Was this all planned… or just another of your impulsive decisions?"

Back in the alley, Lucius sat cross-legged on the crate, eyes closed as he absorbed the environment's magical power, the air around him faintly vibrating with the energy he channeled. But the silence was shattered by approaching footsteps and voices, the carefree chatter of young voices echoing off the damp walls.

Lucius opened his eyes, a cold, icy gaze settling over his face like a frozen mask. He closed them briefly, taking a deep breath, then leaped from the crate with a graceful move, landing silently.

"Looks like the time has come," he said, his voice serious and grave, heavy with dark determination.

With a swift motion, he pulled the mask over his face, its dual design hiding his features, and drew the overcoat's hood, blending into the alley's darkness. He stepped back, camouflaging himself in the shadows, his breathing nearly inaudible.

At that moment, a short young man with spiky brown hair and a goofy smile entered the alley, accompanied by a girl with long, wavy blonde hair. They laughed loudly, their voices bouncing off the walls as they discussed their plans.

"When we claim the bounty on the Black Cloak's head, I'll buy artifacts to get stronger!" the boy exclaimed, his tone loud and eager, eyes shining with ambition. "Then I'll head to Magnolia and try to join a big guild, like Fairy Tail! Imagine me fighting alongside Natsu and Erza!"

The girl, with a faint, satisfied smile on her pink lips, shook her head, her blonde hair swaying like a golden veil.

"I've got different plans, shorty," she retorted, chuckling softly. "I'll use the money for new clothes, fancy shoes, and a trip to some exotic place, like Hargeon's beach in full summer! Who needs a guild when you've got style?"

But luck wasn't on their side. As the girl spoke, the boy stopped abruptly, his wide eyes fixed on the alley's darkest corner. A black figure, still as a statue, watched them closely, its outline barely visible in the gloom.

The girl, noticing his sudden halt, frowned and snapped her fingers in front of his face.

"Hey, what's up, shorty?" she asked, her voice loud and impatient. "Seeing ghosts or what?"

The boy raised a hand, signaling silence, and the girl followed his gaze. Their faces twisted in fear as they spotted the figure in the corner, its hood hiding its eyes, but its presence radiating a menacing aura.

The girl reached for a magical flare on her belt, but before she could activate it, the figure made a slight arm movement. A water blade, sharp as glass, sliced through the air with a hiss, decapitating both in an instant, giving them no time to react. Their bodies fell with a dull thud, blood staining the alley floor.

That move, however, was enough. The surge of magical power alerted the tracking mages, and shouts of command echoed through the city. Reinforcements were dispatched immediately, spell lights illuminating the sky toward the alley, staves raised and glowing with magical energy.

Lucius looked at the bodies he'd just killed, his face impassive under the mask. His voice came out with cutting indifference.

"Wrong place, wrong time," he said, his cold eyes fixed on the corpses for a brief moment before turning away.

At that instant, the sound of boots and voices approached rapidly, dozens of mages converging on the alley, staves in hand and tracking spells shining like shooting stars. The hunt was just beginning.