“They think they can disrespect distances. They think they can ignore the power we wield.”

Pausing at the door, he glanced around, making sure the hallway was still empty.

The quiet suited him; no witnesses would interfere with what he was about to do.

“Distantias will make a name for itself,” he whispered, a satisfied grin tugging at his lips.

He looked down at the creature once more, almost tenderly.

“You, my Black Sting, are a small-level magical creature created by a hidden spell. Yes, but even the smallest weapon in the hands of a mage is deadly to those without magic.”

The bee flickered, sensing his thoughts and buzzing in response. He chuckled again.

“Ferlo’s boys won’t know what hit them. And as for Ferlo himself...”

He stopped, letting the words hang in the air as he carefully released the Black Sting from his hands.

The creature hovered, listening intently to its master’s orders, waiting.

“You know what to do,” he murmured, his voice laced with a soft malice.

“Find him, sting him, and make him feel the power of Distantias. A reminder that those who cross us... don’t live to tell the tale.”

The Black Sting flitted into the dimly lit hallway, buzzing quietly as it flew.

The young mage watched it disappear into the shadows, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk.

He leaned back against the wall, folding his arms as he whispered to himself,

“They think we’re just some little crime family, just another gang. They have no idea what we can do... and they won’t, until it’s too late.”

He let out a long, contented sigh, reveling in the thrill of the scheme.

“Ferlo,” he muttered, almost to himself.

“You’re going to wish you’d never laid eyes on Level 2. My Black Sting will make sure of that.”

The hall remained silent, save for the distant hum of machinery echoing from far down the corridor.

He imagined the sting of his magic sinking into Ferlo’s skin and the slow, creeping pain it would bring.

“Ah, Black Sting... You’re small, you’re subtle, but you’re effective.”

He smiled to himself, imagining the confusion and chaos that would unfold once his spell took effect.

In the stillness, he could almost hear Ferlo’s voice echoing with pain, confusion, and fear. He chuckled softly.

“No one messes with distractions. No one disrespects us and gets away with it.”

The young man leaned against the cold wall of his hidden alcove, eyes closed except for his right one, which had taken on a glassy, distant look.

Through his Black Sting spell, he could see the dim corridors of the ship as though he were gliding through them himself.

It was exhilarating, almost like a forbidden dance through the ship’s quiet spaces, away from prying eyes and magical detectors that could detect stronger spells but were helpless to notice his subtle creation.

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As Black Sting flitted closer to its target, he muttered to himself, a smirk spreading across his face. “Ah, Ferlo, you won’t know what’s coming.”

He reveled in his success so far, the creature moving swiftly through shadows, skimming by the guards unnoticed.

He could hear the faint, low hum of the magical detectors in the walls, but Black Sting bypassed them effortlessly.

He chuckled to himself,

“Too insignificant for detection... they thought they were safe.”

The bee-like creature flitted down a dark hallway, turned right, then a sharp left, and suddenly there it was—the door to the quarters of Ferlo and his boys. The young mage whispered, “Finally, my dear Black Sting. It’s time.”

He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he concentrated on the creature’s movements.

“Ferlo,” he muttered, savoring the name as if it were a sweet venom on his tongue.

His Black Sting hovered in front of the door, wings buzzing with faint, almost silent precision, undetectable unless someone were right next to it.

Now, his right eye showed him the vision from Black Sting’s perspective in greater detail. His heart quickened as he saw the faint yellow glow coming from inside the room.

“Looks like they’re awake." He whispered to himself, then chuckled darkly.

“Perfect. All the better to see their faces when the sting finds its mark.”

He guided Black Sting to the edge of the door, then down the narrow gap at the bottom.

The room within was dim, lit by a single lantern hanging from a hook on the wall.

He could hear muffled voices—Ferlo’s and one of his men, no doubt. Leaning in, he caught their conversation.

“We’ll make a name for ourselves here, boys.”

Ferlo’s rough voice was low and confident.

“Distantias won’t scare us off; they’re just a bunch of fancy spell-slingers. We stick together, keep our heads down, and we’ll run this ship’s underbelly.”

The young mage sneered at this.

“Confident, are we, Ferlo?” He whispered, his tone mocking.

“We’ll see how long that lasts.”

He sent Black Sting drifting upward, rising slowly from the floor and positioning itself just below the ceiling, hidden from direct sight.

From this vantage point, he could see the entirety of the room: a couple of narrow cots, a rickety wooden table covered in an array of dirty dishes, and in the corner, Ferlo himself—a burly man with a jagged scar down his cheek, reclining in a chair with his feet up on the table.

His arms were crossed as he spoke, exuding the smug arrogance that had irked the young mage enough to send him on this mission in the first place.

To the side, two of Ferlo’s men leaned against the wall, nodding along with every word, oblivious to the creeping danger floating above their heads.

The young mage grinned, murmuring,

"Closer, just a little closer.”

As Black Sting hovered directly above Ferlo, he whispered,

“And now... for the sting.”

The small creature darted downward in a sudden motion, landing on the back of Ferlo’s neck. For a second, there was silence, only the dull hum of the ship echoing in the background. Then—

“Agh!” Ferlo slapped the back of his neck, cursing.

“What the…?” He rubbed his neck, wincing. “Feels like something bit me.”

The young mage held his breath, watching through Black Sting’s perspective. He knew the spell’s effects weren’t immediate.

It would take a few moments to seep into Ferlo’s bloodstream, targeting his muscles and nerves, bringing pain and weakness as it spread.

One of Ferlo’s men leaned forward, raising an eyebrow.

“You alright, boss?”

"Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Ferlo muttered, though his expression had changed.

He seemed unsettled, and as he rubbed his neck again, his face tightened.

“Just felt like something sharp... no big deal.”

The young mage laughed softly, savoring the sight. Soon, he knew, Ferlo wouldn’t be able to hide his discomfort.

As expected, moments later, Ferlo’s expression began to shift.

He grunted, then winced, flexing his fingers as if they were cramping. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

One of his men stepped closer, looking concerned.

“Boss? You sure you’re alright?”

Ferlo waved him off, though his hand trembled slightly.

“Of course I am. Just a... just a little sting.”

But it was more than a sting, and they all knew it.

His movements became sluggish, his face paling as the spell worked its way through his system, targeting his nerves and making each small movement agonizing.