In the coming days, following One Shot One Kill's rather public defeat against Joan, the topic took the internet by storm, dominating searches and YouTube compilations.
Popular streamers posted their reactions to Isaac's loss, and all the coverage attracted thousands of extra eyes to Isaac.
In short, the bitter defeat haunted Isaac wherever he went.
On the other hand, Joan, rather disconnected with the rest of the world, was blissfully unaware of the online chaos she created.
Rather quickly, the number of friend requests Joan received reached staggering numbers. Players wanted a chance to challenge the person who defeated One Shot One Kill. Confused, she mindlessly rejected all of them. Why would she accept friend requests from people she never played with before?
Meanwhile, it didn't take long for Joan to settle into somewhat of a monotonous rhythm: wake up, train Navier, go to school, play games, and go home. Her life, compared to what it once had been, was strikingly normal.
Li Bo wasn't around to harass her, and the cold air of the barracks no longer chilled her to the bone.
Meanwhile, whispers of the collapse of the M High School hierarchy slowly circulated in the four gangs.
In a desolate alleyway, a boy whispered to Isaac. At his words, Isaac nodded before waving the boy away and continuing his stroll downtown.
Expressionlessly, he pulled his phone from his pocket and pressed it against his ear, looking around as though he was a street rat in a place he didn't belong. "Find out who beat up Mad Dog. Let's pay 'em a visit."
***
Isaac pushed his key into the lock and slowly turned. Before he opened the door, his hand hovered over the doorknob, his expression complex, flickering from anger to sadness.
He pursed his lips and drew back his hands. Changing his mind, he turned away from the door, but the magnetic pull of the room made him turn around just as fast.
Eventually, Isaac's slick palms gripped the handle, and he pushed open the door.
"Home," Isaac announced. Silence greeted him home, caressing his hair, and asking about how his day was at school.
As Isaac trudged towards the living room, his expression became crestfallen.
Empty beer bottles scattered the floor, and the light reflecting off of glass shards danced on the wall, taunting him.
The apartment reeked of booze, drugs, and vomit, making Isaac's nose crinkle in disgust. He placed a hand over his nose as he navigated the maze of glass bottles.
His mother laid on the couch, fast asleep, and Isaac stopped before her. Dried drool and vomit trickled down her chin, and the gag-inducing stench of a month without bathing permeated from her body. Suspicious green and yellow stains clung to her clothes, and her now silver hair was disheveled from spending the day laying down.
And if it weren't for the shallow rise and fall of her chest, Isaac would've believed her to be dead.
And she might as well be. Every day before Isaac came home, she drank to her heart's content and passed out until the next noon, where she repeated the same liver-wrenching process.
The woman was a leech, by all means. Unemployed and addicted to alcohol, she burned through Isaac's money faster than Usuin Bolt running the 100m. She emotionally taxed Isaac until he was nothing more than an empty shell of himself.
But Isaac couldn't bring herself to rid himself of the woman. At one point, she had been a loving mother who made his favorite meal, udon with a side of tobiko, right as he came home from school.
And at one point, Isaac had a father. But it seemed good things never lasted forever.
Gently, Isaac pried the half-empty bottle from her hands and placed it on the coffee table.
Expressionlessly, he turned and left, only to come back with a trash bag and a pair of gloves.
Silently, he kneeled, plucking each glass shard and bottle from the floor and placing it ever so gently in the trash bag.
His mother groaned. "Ethel."
Isaac froze, his expression darkening. He very nearly lost grip on the bottle in his hand and let it crash to the ground.
But before it did, he regained his senses, tightening his fist and gently laying the bottle in the trash bag.
When Isaac finished, he silently headed to his room where he'd count up the amount of donations he received from his stream and squeeze his pocket to fork up the month's rent.
And like Joan, he, too, had a monotonous life: school, bully kids for money, stream, and go home.
***
"Hey, asshole," Isaac said. "Where's the money, huh? D'you forget again?" He raised his eyebrow.
Huddled in a bathroom stall were Isaac and strangers he didn't know the names of.
One of the three boys behind Isaac laughed. "Just beat him up already."
Grimly, Isaac turned his head. "Shut the fuck up. Who asked you?"
"Jeez, bro. Was just a thought."
Isaac's eyes focused once more on the quivering mouse seated on the toilet. His hand fisted locks of hair as he relentlessly shook the trembling youth.
"Please, I need to pay this month's rent," the boy begged helplessly, tears streaming down his purple-blue face.
Isaac froze as the rare feeling of guilt saturated his bloodstream. But the feeling faded just as quickly as it came, and he soon forgot the emotion.
"And so do I," Isaac wanted to say, but the words stayed lodged in his throat, not even able to reach his tongue.
Instead, he said, "I don't care, I know you have it. Hand it over." Isaac expectantly extended his open palm, ushering the boy to pay up.
The boy whimpered, shakily pulling a few dollars from his pocket and placing them in Isaac's hand.
Isaac's fingers folded, securing the money in his hand, and he relished the feeling of the paper rubbing against his fingertips.
Seven dollars, that was enough.
Nodding, Isaac released the boy's hair and pushed his limp body away, as if repulsed by the vermin.
"Hey, man. Where's our cut of the money?" someone asked Isaac as he exited the bathroom.
Isaac turned to look at him. Who even was this?
"Hell no. You fools didn't do shit."
Seven dollars was the difference between paying this month's rent and getting evicted. Isaac would rather choose the former.
After school, Isaac headed to the same arcade he always did, as per the same monotonous routine his life consisted of.
He set up his camera at the foot of the Mortal Strike module, before pressing 'Start'.
And as the camera flickered to life, so did Isaac's online persona. A mask fell over his face, shadowing his deep-rooted depression.
An excited grin spread across his face. "Yo, chat, what's up?" He pressed two finger to his forehead and saluted the viewers.
10,000 viewers watched him hide under his mask on screen. 3,000 more than last time.
It seemed that all the drama about Isaac losing to a noob had drawn in a few extra viewers.
If it was like that, Isaac wouldn't mind embarrassing himself a little more if it meant he'd get more viewers.
After all, more viewers meant more money.
***
Silently, Isaac waited outside M High School along with four other Immortal members. As he scanned the team he assembled, he realized he knew not one of these boys.
So why did these strangers choose to follow him? Why did they accept him as the leader of the Immortals? Why did they task him with such a burden?
And most importantly, why did he accept the role in the first place?
But Isaac already knew the answer to that. The status made everything easier. With fear came power.
The ring of the school bell alerted Isaac. "Keep an eye out for the boy."
The group of five Immortals kept their eyes peeled for the inconspicuous boy in glasses. And as the horde of students streaming through the school gates began to thin out, they spotted him.
"That's him," a boy pointed out.
Isaac smirked. "Navier Barr!" he called out happily. "What's up, man?" he asked as he sashayed over. He slung a friendly arm over Navier's shoulder and leaned in. "You down for a smoke?"
"Who are you?" a feminine voice chimed from behind.
Isaac turned. "Eh?" His eyes scanned over the girl: wimpy, short, and ugly, everything he hated in a woman.
For a second, the girl's face morphed into his mother's. Her weak smile penetrated him, and as her face reverted back to normal, he began to hate this stranger even more,
"Rem," Navier whimpered, tears accumulating at the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill over.
Rem's hand grabbed Isaac's arm and peeled it off Navier. "Let's go. Viktor is waiting for us."
Annoyed, Isaac slapped her cheek. Her head snapped to the side, but her face remained emotionless.
"Know your place," Isaac spat.