In the dimly lit hallways of Level 2, the small, influential crime family known as the Distantias had already begun establishing their presence among the passengers.

A group of their thugs stood near a shadowed alcove, exchanging whispered words and quick glances with anyone who looked the part of a potential customer.

Their contraband items ranged from rare enchanted charms to illegal potions, items that the Blue Hope’s security would never approve but that certainly found eager buyers among certain groups on board.

A nervous-looking passenger sidled up to the Distantias' corner, fidgeting as he approached one of the thugs, a wiry, sharp-eyed man named Calro.

“Hey, you got what I asked for?” The passenger murmured, eyes darting around the hallway.

Calro smirked, pulling a small, glinting vial from inside his coat.

“Got the good stuff right here, friend,” he whispered back, holding the vial close.

“But remember, you didn’t get this from me. Blue Hope guards don’t take kindly to these... refreshments.”

The passenger nodded hastily, reaching for the vial, but just then, another voice rang out from the other side of the hallway.

“Oi! What’re you lot up to?”

Calro stiffened, tucking the vial back into his coat as he glared at the source of the interruption—a burly man in a dark, fitted jacket who clearly had a vendetta against anyone making money in his territory.

He was flanked by a couple of his own men, one of whom had a small knife already visible at his side.

“None of your business, Ferlo,” Calro spat back, crossing his arms defiantly.

Ferlo laughed, a rough, humorless sound.

“Oh, I think it is my business, Distantias scum. You’re dealing on my floor, selling your trash without my approval.”

He took a step. closer, fists clenched.

“That’s disrespect.”

Calro’s eyes narrowed, and he gestured to his men, who immediately fell into defensive stances.

“Listen, Ferlo. This ship is big enough for all of us. But if you’re looking for a fight... ”

Ferlo didn’t wait for him to finish.

He lunged forward, fist aimed squarely at Calro’s jaw.

Calro dove just in time, and a wild punch grazed his shoulder instead.

The hallway erupted into chaos as the men collided in a blur of fists, elbows, and grunts.

One of Calro’s men tackled one of Ferlo’s associates, slamming him into the wall with a resounding thud.

Another thug from Ferlo’s side retaliated with a swipe of his knife, narrowly missing Calro as he spun away.

Amidst the brawl, several onlookers backed away in alarm, but some lingered, watching seemingly having fun.

One whispered to another,

“Looks like Distantias has some competition here on Level 2. But they’re gutsy to be going at it in public.”

After several moments, one of Ferlo’s men finally managed to land a solid punch, sending one of the distant thugs sprawling onto the floor.

But Calro quickly countered, grabbing Ferlo by the collar and slamming him against the wall.

“You want to start a war?” he hissed. “Because that’s what you’ll get if you don’t back off.”

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Ferlo laughed weakly, though his face was flushed with exertion.

"You... you think you can take us all on? Just you wait. I’ll make sure Level 2 stays ours.”

As the fight grew more intense, the sound of boots clanking against the metal floor filled the hallway.

A group of Blue Hope guards, clad in polished armor and carrying enchanted batons, came running, pushing their way through the crowd that had gathered.

The guards shouted,

“Enough! Break it up!”

The thugs from both sides immediately backed off, eyeing the guards warily.

One of the guards, a tall, burly man with a well-trimmed beard and a stern gaze, stepped forward, crossing his arms as he surveyed the scene.

His name was Garret, and he had a reputation for being both ruthless and greedy.

Garret looked from Calro to Ferlo, sizing up the situation.

“Looks like we’ve got a bit of a mess here,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s the story?”

Calro cleared his throat, glancing over at Ferlo with thinly veiled contempt.

“Nothing serious, Garret. Just a... small misunderstanding.”

Ferlo snorted.

“Yeah, misunderstanding. They’re dealing contraband on my turf.”

Garret rolled his eyes.

“Last I checked, Level 2 isn’t anyone’s turf except Blue Hope’s. You want to claim it; take it up with Captain Heidrick.”

He glanced pointedly at Calro, who caught his meaning.

Calro stepped forward, a forced smile on his face as he discreetly slipped a few coins into Garret’s hand.

“I think we can all be civilized about this, right, Garret?”

Garret pocketed the bribe, giving Calro a barely perceptible nod.

“Right. We’re all civilized here. But let me be clear.” He turned to address both Calro and Ferlo.

“If I catch either of you pulling stunts like this again, you’re off the ship. And that’s not a warning; it’s a promise.”

Ferlo gritted his teeth but kept his mouth shut, unwilling to push the matter further now that the guard was involved.

Calro, on the other hand, managed a diplomatic nod.

“Understood. We’ll keep it low-key.”

Garret’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned in, speaking quietly enough that only Calro and Ferlo could hear.

“The Distantias family may have many thoughts under its wings, but don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re untouchable. As long as you keep this small, I’ll Look the other way. But if it gets out of hand... ”

Calro nodded quickly.

“Absolutely. No problem at all.”

Garret looked satisfied, and as he backed away, he muttered,

“Get yourselves cleaned up and get out of here before someone else notices. And keep your family’s name out of trouble, Calro.”

Calro watched Garret and the other guards disappear down the hallway, a sigh of relief escaping his lips.

He cast a final, disdainful look at Ferlo, who was glaring at him with smoldering anger.

In a sense, Garret did not need any coins or take any bribe from any crime families.

He took the bribe so that both sides would be staying in a good relationship with each other.

In a sense, the guards and lower-level crime families are working with each other to secure the ship.

The thugs under the lower-level crime organization and families help the guards in the protection of shipments and passages; in return, the guards close their eyes when problems arise.

It is a simple give-and-take relationship.

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“Looks like we’ll both be on our best behavior.”

Calro said with a smirk, turning away.

Ferlo spat on the floor, muttering,

“Watch your back, Distantias. This isn’t over.”

But Calro and his men were already slipping back into the shadows, fading from sight as they resumed their business.

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A young man in his mid-twenties with a slender figure and dark hair that fell over his eyes paced in the cramped room, muttering to himself.

His fingers twitched with excitement as he observed his reflection in the dull surface of a tiny mirror on the wall, chuckling.

“Everything’s perfect. They think Distantias will stand for that? Hah. Not a chance.”

He held out his hands, palms up, and closed his eyes.

His voice dropped to a murmur as he began to chant, his words sounding almost like a hymn of devotion.

“Black Sting, Black Sting... heed my call.”

With a flick of his fingers, a wisp of dark energy sparked between his palms, coalescing into a tiny, black bee-like creature.

Its wings buzzed softly, glistening with a dark sheen, and its stinger was sharp as a dagger.

The young man leaned close, his eyes wide with admiration, as he studied the small creature.

“They won’t even see you coming,” he whispered to the Black Sting, his voice carrying an edge of barely restrained glee.

“Oh, Ferlo and his fools... They’re in for a surprise. Small-time thugs, no sense of magic, no idea of what’s about to hit them.” He chuckled darkly.