Now that they finally have time to themselves and to celebrate their descent, Wyn transforms his tent into a club. They splurge their catnips, using them to buy all the “essentials” to make the party as wild as possible. Snacks and drinks are piled high on the small table and scattered around it. The karaoke machine is blasting, now equipped with two microphones instead of one. A bubble blower continuously fills the air with floating bubbles, adding to the festive atmosphere.

  Gathered around the messy table, they pop their confetti poppers in unison before passing around a champagne bottle.

  "Your face is so red, Yu!" Mira says.

  "I think I’m gonna pass out soon."

  "Weak sauce," Wyn teases.

  "But you were going all out at the club, Mister Yu," Lisa adds.

  "I'm sure he only drank orange pop," James chimes in.

  "What'sssa 'pop'?" Yu asks.

  "It’s soda," Wyn explains.

  "Ahs! Yisss! At de Dark Forest party tooo," Yu slurs.

  They party nearly all night. Mira and James eventually retreat to the second floor, where they end up falling asleep on top of each other. Meanwhile, Lisa passes out on the floor, somehow with Yu's legs draped over her chest. Wyn, the sole survivor of the night, steps out of the tent to enjoy the quiet. It appears most elites sleep through the night, waking only when the sky brightens.

  “What a piece of trash, petite merde,” a familiar voice says.

  “Wait, I’ve heard that word before…” Wyn wakes up, dazed, finding himself in front of his tent.

  “Rough night?” David asks.

  “We need to get going. Get up, trash. Get your team,” Charlotte snaps.

  “Did you just speak Forugeese?” Wyn asks.

  “It’s Baguette, but she’s from Brewlgium,” David answers before Charlotte can.

  “Omelette du fromage, madame,” Wyn responds as he struggles slightly to get up.

  “Get lost!” Charlotte fumes.

  “You’re always pissy because the Baguetteers took credit for Baguette fries, right?”

  Charlotte mutters a string of slurs as Wyn enters the tent to wake his team. Seeing how none of them budge, he orders ice buckets and pours them on each member. One by one, they spring awake, eyes wide open.

  As they gather outside, likely hungover, David leads them into an already-occupied room.

  “This is my team. The original members,” David announces.

  He begins introducing his team members, starting with the infamous Charlotte, prompting a playful boo from Wyn as David says her name. Predictably, she hurls insults in return, but Wyn seems satisfied with the reaction. Next is Fatima, still wearing her hijab, even here in Hell. Then there’s the couple: Kai Ling, who goes by Kai, and Meiling, who prefers the name Violet. The remaining members are Isabella, Vivian, Ruben, and Eugene. Last but not least is “Heysoos,” who had to resort to an alternative spelling for his name since the original was censored.

  Mira effortlessly exudes charisma, aware of the serious interest from Heysoos who’s been staring at her since they first met. She lightly waves at him, returning his attention.

  “I thought we were gonna explore the second floor, no?” James asks.

  “Yes! We’ll have to split as there are certain things we need for Hell’s Day,” David answers.

  “You have no right to split my team,” Wyn says.

  “Ah, alright. Got it!” David responds.

  “Wait, if memory serves, didn’t you tell me you had a lot more members when we first met?” Wyn asks, hands on his forehead, still feeling the effect from last night.

  “That’s exactly what I’m about to get to! Before anything, I want you to understand the concept of factions and what they mean here,” David replies.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Don’t give too much info. I already have a hard time remembering names. I swear to stay off alcohol from now on…,” Yu says.

  One of the two main factions, identifiable by their blue tents, is "Freedom Faction." Led by a sharp and skilled leader named Steve, they claim to value equality, but the reality tells a different story. Every member is required to pay a "tax" by sharing a portion of the essence from each kill. The current rates are set at twenty percent for kills below one thousand essence, twenty-five percent for those between one thousand and five thousand, and thirty percent for kills exceeding five thousand. This cumbersome process forces members to summon either the leader or his "assistants" to collect their share. Failure to comply will result in a penalty, payable in catnips. Before the option to transfer catnips was introduced, banishment was the only consequence for noncompliance. While David doesn't know the exact number of members, he estimates the faction's size to be in the thousands.

  Rivaling in numbers is the other faction known as “Imperial Order.” Led by Wei, who was originally from the USA and formerly known as William, he embraced his roots and adopted his Shynese name upon ascending to leadership. Their operational methods differ from those of Freedom Faction; after a kill, only the leader and the “Powerfuls” – a select group of souls who have demonstrated exceptional skills – receive all the essence. Noncompliance with this system results in banishment, though rumors suggest that some members are eliminated under the guise of “accidents.” Interestingly, similar rumors circulate about Freedom Faction as well.

  “Elites among the elites, ha? So, we get to choose between shit and piss?” Wyn asks.

  “Those people at the square – were they from these two factions?” James interjects.

  “Likely. You rarely see the leaders or their upper ranks around. As for your concern, little one, you do have one more option: us!” David replies.

  “‘Little one’? Dude, seriously?” Wyn says, his reaction causes the room to burst into laughter.

  Like Wyn’s team, David’s team chose not to join any factions upon their arrival. They decided to remain neutral and observe how each faction operated. Countless days and nights were spent shadowing the leaders and elites of both groups. Eventually, they reached a conclusion: the souls on this floor weren't becoming strong enough. While the upper ranks hoarded all the essence, their skills were degrading because they seldom participated in fights, opting instead to wait and collect. This realization prompted David to create his own faction, aimed solely at honing the skills of the souls.

  “We want everyone to be able to fight when the time comes,” David says.

  During the last city event, only a fraction of David’s faction participated. The same was true for Freedom Faction, but none from Imperial Order showed up.

  “What about Crowd? Is he under your faction? And where’s the guy by the way?” Wyn asks.

  Crowd and David are close friends, despite meeting on this floor. However, Crowd’s team is not part of David’s faction as they’re often too busy helping the nerds in the HQ to produce more games.

  “So, we can go factionless?” Wyn wonders.

  “Who’s going to stop you?” David responds.

  Under David’s faction, aptly named “Skill Tree,” there are currently about two hundred members, mostly comprised of dual-typing souls banished from their previous factions. The remaining souls who don’t join a faction are referred to as “Neutrals.”

  “That’s when the whole alliance thing comes into play!” David explains.

  The original members of David's team are leaders who help train the faction members. Every day, each leader takes a group of souls to the second floor for training sessions. Neutrals who maintain good relations with Skill Tree become allies, meaning they share information and occasionally fight together when requested.

  “To avoid confusion, we refer to the higher-ups of the other factions as ‘puppeteers,’” David notes.

  “My head!” Yu groans, resting his face on the table.

  “Mine too!” Mira echoes.

  “Mine three,” Lisa adds.

  “Why are the leaders here? Shouldn’t they be training with their members?” James asks.

  “We're here because of you,” Violet says with a smile.

  “Why us? Do you go this hard to recruit new members?” Wyn inquires.

  “No, just you. I took a liking to you when we first met back then. Anyone who can stand up to Charlotte must be special,” David responds.

  “Boss…!” Charlotte moans.

  “I’m not forcing you to make a decision right now; I just wanted you to understand how things work around here. Also, we’re heading out to the second floor with other members today!” David continues.

  “You mentioned you like dual-typing souls. Well, three of us aren’t that,” Wyn says.

  “No problem. All of you were rated above C-tier by the crow. I’m willing to relax the condition a bit.”

  With that, both teams head out, making their way to the square, where a large group of souls has gathered. Joining them today, alongside the members, are the allies: the (LGBTAIQM4WD2R++X9)^3, whose members sport colorful hair, and the New Brats, all men and wearing turbans and thobes.

  “Why are you still wearing that thing on your head, if you don’t mind me asking, Fatima?” Wyn inquires.

  “Oh, it’s because my hair is sooo long! I tried cutting it, but it just kept growing back!” Fatima replies with a big smile.

  The tan-skinned Fatima is small in stature, measuring under one-sixty. She wears a relaxed-fit beige tee layered over white long sleeves, featuring a cheerful, cartoony yellow flower in the center. She pairs it with comfortable black leggings and camo-colored strap sandals.

  “Alright, folks,” David announces from the stage. “We have a new team joining us. Because of them, we can now keep our departed friends’ bands!” His announcement sparks murmurs among the crowd, with Charlotte looking the most surprised.

  David assigns two leaders to every evenly split group of members. As for himself, he’ll lead a handful of Skill Tree members plus the New Brats, who seem to love visiting areas with a lot of habibis for some reason.

  “As for the task of defrosting the myniah, I’ll leave that to Wyn’s team and Eugene and…hmmm, who should go with them?” David ponders. “Ah! Why not Charlotte, seeing how well you two are already acquainted!”

  Both Wyn and Charlotte exchange a momentary glance before groaning in frustration.