Friday [09/06/2019]

The Fight Navigational System, or simply “the Navigator”, was what the voice in Isaac’s head referred to itself as. It was what guided him through the game-like mechanics and interface of this alternate reality, much to Isaac’s relief. Despite what many might think from looking at him, Isaac was never much of a “gamer” in any serious sense. Most of the time he did play them was with his brothers. He often played fighting games with his younger brother, and would play sports games – usually either the latest Madden or NBA 2K – with his elder brother. He had never finished an RPG of any sort – Western, Japanese, MMO, etc.

He wasn’t even sure what some of his Attributes did; Will and Charisma especially. Did they literally mean “willpower” and “personality”, or something else? Also, why was the only Fighting Style he knew just “Fisticuffs” when he had partook in martial arts when he was younger? How did the Mission System work? Was the game full of Secret Missions that he could stumble onto at any occasion or was what just happened with the Battle Royale a one-time occasion? Why could he no longer Level Up from fighting spirits? Why did Leveling Up no longer increase his Attributes by any significant margin?

Isaac had a plethora of concerning questions about the Navigator and pondered them in-depth while he followed Keith.

“Hey, Moon. …Moon!”

Isaac jolted out of his thoughts. “Mr. Forrester?”

“You alright? You’ve been spacing out for a while now.”

“Nah, I’m fine. Just a little tired is all.”

“Just a little? You fought like a maniac, kid. Honestly didn’t know you had that sort of moxie in you. It’s like you were possessed by a Spartan that died at Thermopylae.”

Isaac blinked. “Can that happen?”

“What sort of question is that? Of course, it can. You never learned about spiritual possession?”

“W-well… Not while I was in Kansas. Our, uh… Cultivation Studies kinda glossed over stuff like that”

Keith shrugged. “Well, I guess that’s the Midwest for you.”

Isaac sighed. He didn’t want to drag Kansas and the rest of the Midwest’s reputation down so often, but he felt it was important to keep up appearances that he actually knew anything about this bizarre alternate reality, and pinning it all on his home state’s poor education was currently the most efficient way. For all he knew, Kansas’s chi research and cultivator education were some of the best in the country. But as little as Isaac knew about this reality, he knew even less about his background within it.

In his original reality, the reason he had left Kansas and transferred to a New York City school was because of his father’s job. It required him to relocate to South Korea, and Isaac didn’t want to follow him out of the States. The only reason he moved to Staten Island specifically was that his aunt lived there.

This was not exactly the case in this reality. Here, the additional cause for his moving on top of his father’s relocation had been cultivator business. According to his aunt, Isaac was a cultivation student back in Wichita; a poor one. His results were so poor that Heartland High was the only cultivation school on Staten Island he could admit into. This was a shock to Isaac as school was something he had always taken very seriously. How could he perform so poorly that a school like Heartland with poor funding, unenthused teachers, and classes that were never full because a portion of students was always playing hooky was his only option?

Isaac had spent the days since he had woken up in this reality trying to piece things together, and he still couldn’t figure anything out. He wanted to contact his father over it, but he felt asking about such things would result in more questions for him than answers.

It was a frustrating situation, but Isaac put his agitations aside as he and Keith finally arrived at the front office.

Keith stopped at the principal’s door. “He’s expecting you. Just make sure you knock first.”

“Alright, then. Thanks, Mr. Forrester.”

“I don’t need thanks for what I get paid for.”

As Keith headed on his way, he grabbed an apple that sat in a basket at the front desk, earning him a sharp look from the receptionist. In three days, Isaac still hadn’t picked up a ‘teacher-like’ vibe from him. He wondered how someone who was so discontented with teaching would even become one in the first place. Pushing, the thought aside, Isaac approached the principal’s door.

He was about to knock on it, but right before his knuckle rapped against the wood, a voice called out to him.

“Please come in, Mr. Moon,” the principal said from inside.

Isaac paused wondering how the principal knew he was about to knock. There was no window on the door. Still curious, the sophomore went in as he was requested to.

What took him most by surprise when he entered was how normal the room was. It was an ordinary principal’s office. There was nothing particularly outstanding about it. Aside from a few motivational pictures which were framed on the walls and the Newton’s cradle on his desk, the room was completely mundane.

The principal himself was another story. His muscular body was apparent even in his clothes. His face and hands were covered in scars. He wore an eyepatch over his left eye and had a style of facial hair Isaac was certain hadn’t been in fashion since the American Civil War. He didn’t look like the principal of a school. He looked like a retired gladiator in a suit.

He beckoned for Isaac to come near. When the teen cautiously did so, the principal stood from his desk and flashed Isaac the warmest smile he had seen since he came to Staten Island

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Moon. I believe this is the first time you and I have ever met face-to-face,” he said while extending his scar-riddled hand. “I’m your principal – Phineas Hopkins. It’s wonderful to meet you.”

His voice was as gruff as Isaac could have expected from a man who looked as he did. It also swelled with sincerity. Isaac was no longer nervous when he shook his principal’s hand. Both sat down on opposite sides of Hopkins’s desk.

“I was surprised to discover it was you that won the Battle Royale. I think it’s the most shocking result Heartland has had in over two decades.”

“Oh, thanks. I wasn’t really planning on participating today, so...”

“Really? But you marched down there of your own volition, and you certainly weren’t pulling any punches during the brawl.”

“You saw?”

Hopkins nodded before opening one of his desk drawers. He pulled his phone from it and then showed Isaac a video. It was Isaac arriving just before the GBR began. He then skipped to when Isaac was fighting practically everyone else at once.

“I have to say, that’s quite the look you there in your eyes. Even gave me a bit of a quiver.”

“You had the royale recorded?”

“Of course. Events like the annual GBR are always required to be recorded by the NYCC.”

NYCC; it was a term Isaac had heard enough times to know to research it. He did so online and was surprised at how easy it was to look up. Not only did he get several pages worth of results, one of the first ones was an extensive Wikipedia page. The New York Cultivation Commission – or simply the NYCC – was responsible for the regulation and overview of essentially all things cultivation-related in the state of New York. Every cultivation school and research center heeded the guidelines they set as tentatively as they did Jungle Law.

Hopkins set his phone down and pulled a folder from his desk. When he flipped it open, nothing but information about Isaac was inside.

“This folder contains all the essential information from your previous high school,” Hopkins said. “I was honestly a little shocked at how spotless your record was. Heartland usually doesn’t get model citizens transferring in. Your academics were spectacular as well. You’re consistently among the brightest in your class. You were an excellent student!

“Hmm... I see.”

Everything sounded no different than usual so far.

“However...” his new principal continued. “Your cultivation studies are a noticeable sore spot. I’m not trying to be mean Mr. Moon, but your grades here are frankly just abysmal. When tested on your Martial Rank, you were graded as an G1. That’s barely on par with a junior high freshman. I’m not sure what the quality of cultivator education in Kansas is these days, but it’s disheartening just reading this.”

Well, that answered one of Isaac’s questions. That being how he had performed as a cultivator back in Wichita. He hadn’t expected the Isaac of this reality to be so talentless, though. Still, he figured it would be best if he went along with the news.

“Y-yeah. Cultivation studies were always a major weak point for me,” he said.

“Indeed. And that’s why I’m so perplexed right now. Look, Mr. Moon – I’m aware Heartland High isn’t the most stellar school on Staten Island. We’re the worst-performing non-reformative cultivation school in the borough. We aren’t exactly producing its finest cultivators. Still, I have faith that my students aren’t so weak they would lose to an F5-Rank. You even bested Mr. Drake, perhaps the strongest freshman currently attending Heartland. Be honest with me, Mr. Moon. Just what detail is your record here missing? What about the Isaac Moon sitting in front of me is so different than the one in this folder?”

Isaac’s gaze flitted about the floor. “Well…”

For starters, the Isaac Moon in front of him was not the Isaac Moon in the folder at all. He was from a separate reality where things like chi and ghosts were just fantasies written about in stories. The Isaac Moon in front of Hopkins knew better than to attempt to explain such a thing. It would only garner more questions, many of which he did not know the answers to himself. And so he quickly came up with a fabricated excuse.

“Well… When my dad first told me I would be transferring to a Jungle School in New York City, I decided to put more initiative into cultivation studies than I ever had before. I knew the Warriors here would eat me alive if I stayed as I was in Kansas, so I put everything I had into training. I trained harder than I ever had since I first did martial arts as a kid.”

“Oh? You did martial arts when you were younger?”

“Yes, sir. Taekwondo. My dad’s a black belt and taught me and my older brother. I had to quit though because of a… ‘accident’. It’s been a few years since I practiced seriously; if at all.”

“So, you took up Taekwondo when you were young? Strange, I didn’t see anything particularly ‘Taekwondo-like’ in the video. I’d liken your style closer to that of a bar fighter.”

“It’s been a while.”

There was that, and also that the Navigator would not allow him to use any distinctive Fighting Style. Despite practicing them virtually every day when he was young, most of the muscle memory Isaac had concerning Taekwondo was gone. He couldn’t even visualize the majority of his old maneuvers.

“But still, you became quite formidable for someone who only started training seriously over the summer. That’s a lot of progress in just a few months.”

Isaac nervously adjusted his glasses. “Guess hard work pays off.”

“…I suppose it does.”

Hopkins was obviously still pondering the plausibility of Isaac’s dramatic metamorphosis over the summer but dropped his suspicions for the present. He shut Isaac’s folder and slid it aside. He then dug into his desk a final time, this time pulling out a small lockbox and key.

“What’s this?” Isaac asked.

“Your reward for winning the Guardianship Battle Royale. Please use the key to open your first prize.”

Isaac did so. The moment he did, the top of the box flung open. For a moment, a bright beamed from inside and blinded his sight.

“W-what is this?!”

“Haha! Sorry about that, Mr. Moon,” Hopkins said. “The box was bound with chi to stop anyone from breaking it open without the key. I apologize for the surprise.”

With such a precaution to be taken, Isaac suspected something grandiose to have been tucked inside. When the gleam finally died down, however all he saw before him was a plant.

He blinked. “What’s this?”

“What do you mean? Obviously, it’s a ginseng root. As a cultivator, you should recognize one when you see it.”

“I know it’s a ginseng root. Just… why are you giving it to me?”

“It’s your prize? You don’t want it?”

“Should I?”

Hopkins shook his head. “Mr. Moon, I’ll have you know this ginseng is over a century old. An American naval officer brought it home with him following the Korean War. And despite what you may have heard, thousand-year-old ginsengs aren’t that big of a deal. The root typically achieves its maximum spiritual power around the two and a half-century mark. Any boons gained for letting it sit for another century or so beyond that is usually negligible.”

Apparently, receiving this bulky plant was a privilege. Isaac wasn’t sure if he was supposed to consume it or not, but he thought it best to just accept the prize quietly.

“Thanks, Principal Hopkins. Here’s the key back.”

“No, you keep the key as well. It’s your second prize. That not only unlocks the box, it also unlocks every door at Heartland High School. As the new Guardian, you have permanent access to it.”

Isaac recieved new items: Heartland High School key (1x), 118-year-old ginseng (1x)

“Wait. Can we actually talk about this whole ‘Guardian’ thing for a minute?”

“Certainly. What about it?”

“I’m not sure if I really want it.”

Hopkins looked at Isaac peculiarly. “Excuse me? Why in the world would you participate in the Guardianship Battle Royale if you had no intention of becoming the Guardian of the school?”

“...Because I wanted to fight?"

"Oh. I see," Hopkins said, slightly taken aback by the simplicity of his response. "Still, why refuse Guardianship after having won it? Many of your fellow students would kill you for such a position. And that's not an exaggeration."

"Well, for starters, I’m not sure exactly what the position even is. We don’t have many Jungle Schools where I'm from, so I’m not all that familiar with it.”

“I see.I suppose that’s the Midwest for you – always playing catch up.”

Isaac gulped guility as he once again threw his home state under the bus.

“I’ll make this explanation brief: The Guardian is essentially the ‘warlord’ of a Jungle School. They sit at the top of its hierarchy right beside its principal and the de facto leader of the other Warriors with their school’s sphere of influence. They can issue High Edicts, which are basically Executive Orders but for Jungle Schools, which the Warriors below them are compelled to follow and can only be vetoed by the principal. They can scout new students from other schools, scout new staff, and can expel either as well. All of these actions, save expulsion, require the principal’s approval. Finally, they wield the authority to formally declare war on other Jungle Schools.”

“Declare war? Like actual war?”

“Yes, of course. It is against Jungle Law for students from one school to continually engage in unconsented combat with another they are not at war against. Schools that repeatedly do so will receive will lose Prestige, and schools of low Prestige… Well, they end up like Heartland High. Routinely raising the Prestige of one’s school is also a priority of the Guardian, though you learn all about Prestige in due time. There are several other miscellaneous duties for the Guardian, but we’d both be here for over an hour, if only that, going over it all. Thankfully, I have a book on the subject for you that you can study throughout the weekend. That is… if you wish to be Guardian at all. Do you, Mr. Moon?”

After hearing all that being Guardian actually pertained, Isaac’s answer to whether he wanted to be one was clearer now than it had been in the gym. Who in the right mind would want anything to do with such a position? Who would want anything to do with a Jungle School, to begin with? Isaac may have had an itch for fighting begging to be scratched, but everything about this just boggled his mind.

He silently shook his head.

The principal sighed. “I see. Well, I suppose we can have it arranged for Mr. Drake to---”

The principal suddenly stopped. The same went for the watch on his wrist and the Newton’s cradle on his desk. Everything in the room had suspended save for Isaac.

Suddenly, a prompt manifested before him with a message that the Navigator narrated.

Will Isaac decline Guardianship and abandon the "Unification of Heartland High" questline?

[Yes/No]

“…Questline?”

The sophomore was befuddled. Thankfully, the Navigator seemed to pick up on his confusion and opened up a second screen with some illuminating information. It displayed to Isaac a 'mission tree'. At the top of it was his current Mission, and below were mission paths he would embark on depending on whether he answered "Yes" or "No". There was an distinct difference between the two paths one couldn't miss - the "Yes" path had several missions beneath it which were all hidden behind dark silhouettes, while the "No" path held only one: "Graduate".

“Is that the equivalent to “Free Play” Mode, or whatever? Will anything actually come of that, or will it just leave me going around in circles forever?”

The sophomore pondered on it. Eventualy, he came to a clear decision. He had countless questions about how he got here and how he was supposed to get out. Something told him that going about his business aimlessly and not engaging in this strange reality's mechanics at all would answer none of them. He was still unsure of what the Navigator held in store for him, but going along with it until he could figure things out appeared a better option than doing nothing and hoping for the best.

Finally, Isaac answered, “Yes, I accept Guardianship.”

“Pardon? You want to be the Guardian after all?” a confused Hopkins asked after time resumed. “Why shake your head then?”

Quickly, Isaac scrambled for a response. “Um… Body language is kinda weird in Kansas. Sometimes shaking your head means yes and nodding means no.”

“Really? Interesting…”

Isaac would never be able to step foot in Wichita again even after returning to his reality. At least the principal bought it. After accepting Isaac’s change of heart, Hopkins went to his bookshelf and withdrew a heavy book from it. He placed it open on his desk. To Isaac’s confusion, the page it landed on was completely blank.

“It’s for you to put your signature on,” the principal said while giving him a pen.

Isaac uncapped it, revealing a small blade.

“Uh…”

“Prick your thumb it with that blade and then press it against the page. That’s all you'll need to do.”

Isaac stared at the blade warily for a moment before doing as he was instructed.

He pricked his thumb, drew blood, and then planted it on the blank page. When he removed it, his bloody thumbprint sizzled and began to gleam. The page instantly began filling itself with information about Isaac: his grade, age, height, etc; all written in his blood. At the very bottom of the page was his name, written identically to how he usually wrote his signature.

“And there you have it. With this I, Phineas Hopkins, hereby declare you, 2nd year Isaac Moon, Guardian of Heartland High School. I’m sure you’ll perform wonderfully, Mr. Moon.”

Time paused as another screen manifested.

SUCCESS!

Isaac has cleared the Main Mission: “Confront the Principal of Heartland High”

Isaac has attained the Title: ~Guardian of Heartland High~ Isaac's has gained the Reputation: Heartland's Rising Star Isaac has unlocked the achievement: ---Big Man on Campus-- Isaac has Leveled Up! Isaac is now Lv. 12!

Isaac smiled. “Well, would you look at that?”

Isaac has obtained a New Main Objective: [Unification of Heartland High] Isaac has obtained a New Main Mission: "Defeat the Three Lords of Heartland"

“...And would you look at that."