Divine Mask: I Have Numerous God Clones

Zeus navigated the dimly lit streets of the town, his sharp eyes taking in every detail with a blend of curiosity and wariness. The town was a shadowy place, its alleys filled with secrets and danger, but Zeus moved with purpose, his thoughts focused on the task ahead.

After a long day of travel, Zeus decided to take a brief detour before beginning his hunt. It had been ages since he last enjoyed a good mug of beer, and with some time to spare, he figured a quick drink wouldn't hurt. He spotted a tavern that appeared to be a local favorite, its entrance bustling with activity.

Pushing the door open, Zeus stepped inside, immediately hit by the warm, earthy scent of alcohol and the low hum of conversation. The dim lighting gave the place a cozy, if slightly ominous, atmosphere, with shadows dancing across the faces of the patrons.

Zeus approached the bar, nodding to the barkeep. "A mug of your best beer," he said, his voice calm and measured. The barkeep, a burly man with a thick beard, sized him up for a moment before nodding and filling a mug to the brim.

"Here you go," the barkeep said, sliding the mug across the counter. His tone was neutral, but his eyes held a flicker of curiosity as he glanced at the masked stranger before him.

"Thanks," Zeus replied, offering a small smile as he took the mug and made his way to a secluded corner of the tavern. He chose a seat where he could observe the room without drawing too much attention to himself.

As he lifted the mug to his lips, the familiar taste of the beer brought a faint smile to his face. It had been far too long since he allowed himself such a simple pleasure. For a moment, he let himself relax, savoring the drink and the temporary peace it brought him.

But that peace didn't last long.

The door of the tavern suddenly burst open with a loud crash, the force of it slamming against the wall and silencing the hum of conversation. Every head in the room snapped toward the entrance. A young man, flanked by two imposing bodyguards, strode in with an air of entitlement.

The atmosphere in the tavern shifted instantly, the tension thickening like a dark cloud. Patrons quickly shuffled back, their faces a mix of caution and fear, creating a wide berth for the newcomers.

"Stand back! Don't get caught up in young master Thalrik Malachor's business!" someone hissed urgently to their companion, the fear in their voice palpable.

Zeus's interest was immediately piqued at the mention of the name. He turned his gaze toward the entrance and was pleasantly surprised to see the gloomy-looking boy who had just stormed in—Thalrik Malachor, one of his targets.

A smile slowly curled at the corners of Zeus's lips. How fortunate, he thought, to stumble upon him so quickly.

Zeus's eyes met Thalrik's for a fleeting moment, but the young master was too absorbed in his own brooding thoughts to notice. Oblivious to the eyes on him, Thalrik made his way to the bar with a heavy, determined stride.

"Give me a drink," Thalrik barked at the barkeep, his tone sharp and demanding. The barkeep hurriedly complied, filling a mug to the brim and sliding it across the counter.

Thalrik snatched the mug and began downing its contents with a kind of frantic desperation, as if trying to drown something far deeper than thirst. He slammed the empty mug down, immediately signaling for another.

"They look down on me just because I'm from the side family," Thalrik muttered darkly, his voice already beginning to slur from the alcohol. "But I'm still a Malachor… and I've reached two-star, even though I'm only 20 years old!"

He continued to drink, his words growing more bitter with each mug he emptied. As the alcohol took hold, Thalrik's frustration boiled over, and he began lashing out at the objects around him. Mugs were knocked over, bottles smashed against the floor, and anything within his reach was sent flying.

The patrons watched in uneasy silence, their eyes wide with fear, but none dared to intervene. Thalrik's growing outburst cast a heavy pall over the tavern, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

As Thalrik's behavior spiraled further out of control, his bodyguards exchanged anxious glances. The situation was escalating quickly, and they knew they had to act before things got worse.

"Someone help us calm him down!" one of the bodyguards barked, his voice laced with both authority and desperation. It wasn't a request—it was a command, and everyone in the tavern knew it.

The patrons hesitated, fear and reluctance flickering across their faces, but they couldn't refuse. Slowly, they stepped forward, moving cautiously toward the young master.

Their movements were careful, almost as if they were dealing with a wild animal that could lash out at any moment. They tried to pin down the drunken Thalrik without hurting him, their hands trembling slightly as they struggled to control the volatile situation.

Zeus observed the unfolding chaos with a smirk, recognizing an opportunity when he saw one. Without drawing attention to himself, he seamlessly blended into the group of patrons.

Moving with practiced ease, he approached Thalrik as if he were just another concerned citizen trying to help.

"Easy there, young master," Zeus said in a calm, soothing tone as he reached out. But while the others focused on keeping Thalrik subdued, Zeus had a different goal in mind.

With a subtle, practiced touch, Zeus slipped his fingers around one of Thalrik's spatial pouches, carefully unhooking it from the young master's belt.

His movements were so fluid and natural that not a single person noticed—not even the bodyguards, who were far too preoccupied with administering a sleeping potion to their charge.

Moments later, Thalrik's thrashing ceased as the potion took effect, and he slumped into a deep, drunken sleep. The tension in the tavern began to dissipate, the patrons exhaling in relief as the immediate danger passed.

The bodyguards quickly thanked the crowd for their help, clearly eager to get Thalrik out of there before he caused any more trouble.

Zeus, his task complete, slipped away from the group as quietly as he had joined them. No one gave him a second glance as he exited the tavern, the stolen pouch safely in hand.

Once outside, Zeus allowed himself a satisfied smirk, feeling the weight of Thalrik's spatial pouch in his grasp. "One down," he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. "Now, let's go search for the others."

As he walked away from the tavern, Zeus knew he had already set the wheels in motion. He had planted something on Thalrik, something the young master wouldn't notice until it was too late. The hunt had begun in earnest, and Zeus was only just getting started.