Born to Steal Gods ( Fairy Tail )

The sky above Hargeon roared with menacing tones, dense clouds creeping across the firmament like lurking predators, charged with electricity that sparked in distant lightning. The air was thick with the scent of rain—dense, electric, oppressive—mingled with the damp smell of alley stones and a faint metallic tang of fresh blood.

The hooded figure, the Black Cloak, dragged himself through the city's narrow shadows, his heavy steps echoing on the slippery pavement. His black overcoat, soaked with sweat, mud, and blood, hung in tatters, revealing deep cuts on his arms and sides where torn skin bled in dark rivulets that streaked down his clothing.

The duality mask, still firmly on his face, bore cracks as fine as glass scars from previous clashes, yet his identity remained hidden, a mystery cloaked in shadow. His eyes, visible through the fissures, burned with unwavering determination.

Ahead, the path to the city's northern exit narrowed, a promise of freedom that seemed within reach. Almost free. But that hope proved a cruel illusion when, rounding a corner, he froze.

A group of over thirty mages blocked the way, their silhouettes outlined by lightning flashes. They were guard mages, bounty hunters eager for glory, and familiar faces who had crossed his path before—wielders of elemental magics. The air grew heavy, charged with energy, the stones beneath his feet faintly trembling with the buildup of magical power.

"You brought reinforcements," he said, his hoarse, ironic voice muffled by the mask as he raised his chin in defiance. "Finally taking me seriously, huh?"

The response came in an explosion of spells: blazing gusts that crackled in the humid air, wind blades that cut like invisible knives, stone spikes erupting from the ground with dry snaps, and chains of light shooting like radiant arrows from all directions.

The Black Cloak leaped back with agile movement, manipulating the air's moisture and the first raindrops beginning to fall, forming a spiraling water shield that deflected the attacks with visible effort, droplets bursting in all directions like artificial rain, splattering the mud around him.

The fight erupted fiercely. He dodged with precision, feet sliding on the wet stone as he channeled the water around him—drawing from dark puddles, the steam rising from the warm ground, even the sweat of the enemies closing in.

A blast of ice nearly froze his leg, the cold biting his skin, but he countered with a liquid spear that sliced through the air with a hiss, knocking down two mages at once with an impact that hurled them against the wall, their groans echoing briefly before falling silent.

The battle seemed endless, spells overlapping in a symphony of destruction, the sound of impacts blending with the thunder.

Then, they came. The chains.

They appeared in the air like silver serpents, slamming into the ground with violence, metal clinking against the stones as they whipped the nearest mages, forcing them to retreat with cries of surprise. Silence seized the field for a moment, broken only by the drip of the now-heavier rain.

Kazimir had arrived.

Tall and imposing, wrapped in a dark cloak that absorbed the light, he advanced with firm steps, his steel-cold eyes fixed on the Black Cloak with silent judgment. Rain streamed down his scarred face, highlighting the determination in his expression.

"Black Cloak," he said, his voice firm and dry, cutting through the storm's noise like a command. "Your sentence has been decreed. You won't leave this city alive."

The hooded figure turned to face him, eyes gleaming behind the cracked mask, a defiant spark shining through the fissures.

"How dramatic. Is this an interrogation… or a funeral preview?" he mocked, tilting his head with sarcasm. "Should I thank you for the honor of being hunted by someone like you?"

"There's no honor in you," Kazimir replied, his magical chains quivering with power around him, their metallic sound reverberating in the alley. "Only crimes that now demand justice. I am Kazimir Veyl, executor of the Magic Council, and I will be the end of your journey."

The Black Cloak chuckled softly, his exhausted body slightly slumping.

"Funny… you talk so much about justice, but it's a whole mob against one," he retorted, his voice dripping with disdain. "That feels more like cowardice than courage, Kazimir."

Kazimir advanced, his chains shooting forward like ravenous beasts, the metal slicing the air with a high-pitched hum. The Black Cloak resisted, shaping the water around him into spinning blades that cleaved the wind, whips that lashed at the chains, and waves that tried to push the enemy back.

He defended with agility, narrowly dodging a strike that tore the air beside him, and attacked with precision, a liquid blade nearly hitting Kazimir, who evaded with a swift move. But he was visibly wounded. A chain struck his shoulder, ripping part of the overcoat and opening a deep cut that bled profusely, making him stagger, his breath coming in pained gasps.

More mages joined the offensive. A light manipulator with gray hair conjured a brilliant beam that sliced the air, while a fire user with dark skin launched a blazing orb that exploded near him.

The combined impact threw him against a wall, the crash echoing as the mask clinked, revealing another crack but still shielding his face. He fell to his knees, mud clinging to his legs, blood dripping from his lips under the mask.

Kazimir approached, step by step, the chains clinking with a menacing sound.

"You're weak," he said, his voice thick with contempt, stopping a few meters away. "No matter how long you drag this out… you'll fall, and I'll make sure your fall is memorable."

The Black Cloak rose slowly, leaning on one knee, his body trembling with effort. Blood dripped from his lips, mixing with the falling rain, but his eyes still burned with an untamed fire.

"Weak…?" he murmured, chuckling softly, the sound muffled by the mask. "No, Kazimir. I'm the guy you all had to gang up on to take down. That's not weakness. That's a threat."

More mages advanced, seizing the moment. The light manipulator shouted, raising his hands.

"It's over for you, renegade!" he exclaimed, launching a beam that sliced the ground beside the Black Cloak, sparking and scattering stone fragments.

The fire user laughed, flames dancing in his palms.

"We'll burn you to ash!" he said, hurling another orb that exploded in orange flames, the heat distorting the humid air.

The Black Cloak channeled the rain around him, creating a vertical whirlpool that roared like a gale, repelling nearby mages. Some were thrown against walls, their cries muffled by the storm, while others retreated, stumbling in the mud.

He stood fully, water whips forming again, droplets spinning around him like liquid armor, the sound of drops hitting the ground echoing like war drums.

Kazimir launched a chain straight at his chest, the metal glinting in the rain with a cold shine. The Black Cloak raised his hand, controlling the water into a dense shield that absorbed the impact, droplets exploding in a shower of liquid fragments.

The chain broke through, losing strength, and the blow knocked him back, his feet sliding in the mud, but he stayed upright, his body hunched with pain, his shoulder bleeding profusely.

Both stood still for a moment, the steady rain dripping on their shoulders like a funeral bell, the air thick with tension and magical power.

Kazimir stared at him, his chains still quivering around him.

"This ends now," he declared, the chains rising again, ready for a final strike, their metallic clank intensifying with menace.

The Black Cloak smiled under his mask, a crooked, defiant grin, his eyes sparking through the cracks.

"Then come get me," he retorted, his voice low but brimming with provocation, as the water around him began to churn, droplets rising as if preparing a tidal wave, promising to plunge the battlefield back into chaos.