February 01, 2025 arrived like a ghost—uninvited, unwanted, and impossible to ignore.
The server looked unchanged. Same channels. Same usernames. Same hollow jokes pinned to the top like trophies.
Yet the air was heavier.
As if the digital walls themselves had learned how to judge.
Jam Seller remembered Chapter 1. Back when being loud felt like armor. When laughter passed for safety. When ranks climbed easily and innocence disguised itself as confidence.
Funny how quickly popularity crushes belief.
Jam exhaled and smirked.
---
Jam:
"Well, hello again, my lovely hellhole… missed me?"
Silence answered.
Predictable.
---
Prb hovered nearby, silent as a cathedral after confession. He believed hierarchy was not cruelty—but law.
Prb:
"If someone falls, it's because they were never meant to stay up."
Jam smiled faintly.
Jam:
"Charming. I should hang that on my wall."
---
Zenkai was different. No metaphors. No humor. Just numbers wearing skin.
---
Zenkai:
"You disrupted equilibrium. Correction was necessary."
Jam:
"Oh good. I was worried I was too happy. Thanks for balancing my misery."
Zenkai didn't respond. Emotion had no function in his worldview. Structure mattered. People were variables.
---
Arron, at least, was honest in his dishonesty.
---
Arron:
"I didn't hate you. I just didn't want to lose."
---
Jam nodded slowly.
---
Jam:
"Ah yes. The classic 'pretend to help while sharpening your knife' routine. Vintage Arron."
---
He hadn't lied.
Morality here was conditional. Loyalty rented. Truth negotiated.
Funny how the simplest truths hurt the most once corruption becomes normal.
THE COURT
The trial replayed endlessly in Jam's mind.
Xuan stood at the center—calm, neutral, untouched by chaos.
---
Xuan:
"Did you say it?"
Jam:
"Yes. I didn't mean it."
Xuan:
"Intent doesn't neutralize damage."
---
Utilitarian logic. Containment over truth.
That was why Hell existed—not to punish, but to expose, isolate, and humiliate.
Moderators didn't protect him.
They curated his suffering.
Names twisted into filth. Insults multiplied. Laughter dripped like acid through every channel.
Jam leaned back mentally.
---
Jam:
"Well… this is cozy. I should move in. Rent's terrible, though."
---
FLAME
Then Flame spoke.
Calm. Steady. Irritatingly human.
---
Flame:
"I can't do this. He's not that kind of person."
---
The mob roared louder. Logs. Screenshots. Evidence weaponized into entertainment.
---
Flame:
"You're jealous. And you hate that he rose without becoming like you."
Xuan's voice cut through.
Xuan:
"He may lose his position."
Flame:
"I don't care."
---
And just like that—cruelty cracked.
Not defeated. Not erased.
But challenged.
Jam was banned.
A period.
A punctuation mark at the end of his existence.
RETURN
Jam returned quietly.
No welcome. No redemption arc.
Just… presence.
---
Xuan:
"Who unbanned him?"
Jam smiled, thin and uncelebratory.
Jam:
"You can't win against someone who already lost everything. I stood alone against 224 people. And I'm still here."
---
Not pride.
Recognition.
Divine watched from a distance, as always—philosophical, restrained.
---
Jam:
"Why didn't you stop them?"
Divine:
"Because stopping them would've destroyed you socially."
Jam:
"So you watched?"
Divine:
"I observed. Interference often breaks more than it saves."
---
Jam clenched his jaw. Not angry.
Amused.
Misku appeared next. No speeches. Just presence. Ellipses replacing arguments.
---
Jam:
"Did you come to hurt me too?"
Misku:
"Stop!! I don't want you to suffer anymore."
And then Flame—last, as always.
Flame:
"You alright?"
Jam:
"I think so."
Flame:
"You didn't deserve that. But I'm proud you survived."
Jam:
"Why did you stand with me?"
Flame:
"Because someone should've."
---
No calculation.
Just choice.
HELL ACCEPTS HIM
Jam entered Hell fully.
The abuse didn't break him.
At first, tears fell—not from weakness, but because the world forced him to witness its own ugliness.
Then he laughed.
Not quietly.
Not nervously.
Loud. Raw. Booming.
A sound that tore through the digital halls.
---
Jam:
"I am used to pain! It doesn't hurt anymore! I am not swallowed by darkness—
I am the darkness itself!
There is nothing wrong with me!
What's wrong… is this corrupted world!"
---
Laughter turned maniacal. Intoxicating.
not madness, but realization.
He was no victim.
He was symbol.
Pain became pleasure. Abuse became fuel. Every insult reflected superiority—not his over others, but his over the system itself.
---
Jam:
"Try to hold me down. I dare you. You cannot.
I am untouchable in my suffering.
I am untouchable in my rise!"
---
Hell stopped being punishment.
It became altar. Crucible. Canvas.
Distorted names became mirrors of rot.
Mockery became water tempering steel.
Jam became fire.
Flame remained above—humanity intact.
Divine watched—calculating.
Misku lingered—quiet.
Jam laughed again.
The world might hate him.
The world might mock him.
But he had become the darkness it feared.