Lone Cultivator In Another World

Vladimir Severniy stood in the middle of a crowd of Graves's security personnel. He scanned the people scurrying past him, hoping to find his son, but to no avail.

When he opened his mouth to shout his son's name, the words got stuck in his throat. Should he call for Misha? That was inappropriate. Vladimir respected his son's status and tried to avoid embarrassing him in public like this. But calling him Michael…

After what had happened some minutes ago, when he recalled his son's new name, it pained him that the boy who had saved Nadya and him wasn't the one he used to know.

"Dad!" a shout broke Vladimir's stupor.

Michael-Misha placed a hand on his father's forearm and asked, "How's mom?"

"She… hasn't woken up yet, but she'll be OK," Vladimir hugged himself and looked back at the van that served as an ambulance car.

"That's good. Mr. Graves invited good doctors. How are you feeling?"

The compassion in his son's voice felt unnatural to Vladimir; the face that took after his seemed unfamiliar.

"I want to speak with you. Alone," he switched to Russian language out of the blue.

"Dad?"

Vladimir grabbed his son's shoulder, intending to drag him away, but couldn't find the strength to do it.

"Please."

Michael nodded, growing concerned.

They stepped aside, much like Graves and Michael had done previously. After leaving the encirclement of cars, they found a bench not too far away.

For a while, they sat in awkward silence. Vladimir's brows moved by themselves, as if he was going through an internal dialogue.

"Thank you. For coming in time. If you hadn't stopped the last one, he would've shot your mother."

Michael nodded, staring down at the ground. Something in his father's voice told him that the gratitude was like a calm before the storm.

"I understand, and I want you to understand as well, that none of this is your fault. Your mother and I stay away from your business, and it's normal that you keep secrets from us. You're a teenager, and a very special one. You need your space. It's just… I wish you would've told us you had political troubles. I could've been more aware," Vladimir continued talking in his native tongue.

The teenager swallowed, but accepted the reprimand.

"With that said," the man sighed, "I hope you could stop doing business with them."

"No, dad. You've got it wrong. They weren't after me because of my business; they're interested in my knowledge and abilities as the first Alter. The Russians don't believe I've already given away all I had. They've termed me a traitor for some reason, but I…"

"Ha!" Vladimir spat venomously. "The favorite tactic of our government!" He noticed Michael look at him questioningly, and explained, "Our people aren't shrewd by nature, son. We believe our government even when it spouts nonsense with an honest face. Labeling you as a traitor for any reason is enough to incite hatred in patriots and Russian nationalists."

Michael hung his head in realization. After the violence he had gone through, especially when he had hastily decided there was no other choice but to kill two scientists to make the others talk, there was a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. To the ones he had hurt, he was the bad guy. The villain they bravely stood against.

The cultivator felt no remorse for the lives he had taken because they were the lives of his enemies. Still, knowing they fought for an ideal, they were difficult to hate.

Instead, hating president Myshkin and the leaders of project Indigo took no effort on Michael's part.

"So, it's not your business that attracts trouble, but your public status? I see," Vladimir stretched his words. "That's worrisome. I don't see how we can make everyone forget that you're the first…"

"Why would you want to do that, dad? I've been able to help and inspire so many people! There's no reason to stop now!"

Michael searched his father's face, hoping to see a sign of approval, but the older man's gaze was fixed on something back at the entrance to the office building. When Michael looked there too, he shuddered involuntarily – Graves's people were carrying the spetsnaz agent's lifeless body.

"Listen, nothing like that will happen again, OK?" The teenager pushed his father's shoulder, trying to shake him awake.

Vladimir flinched as if he just noticed his son and asked, "You think I'm afraid? Look at this!" He pushed his hands in Michael's face.

Michael had to accept that his father's hands weren't shaking.

"I'm willing to do that again, and more, if it means your mother and you will be safe!" Vladimir exclaimed. He wasn't crying, but his eyes were red. "But I can't protect you all your life! I understand why you gave a promise to cure cancer in two years – it's good publicity. But, Misha, I will not be here forever. Two years is a long time, and if it takes longer… what can you do?"

"Don't say that, dad!"

"No. No, listen!" Vladimir's eyes bored into his son's as he grabbed him by the shoulders. "I'm living on borrowed time. The latest remission is already a miracle. When my cancer comes back, and I know it will, I don't have the strength to fight it again. When it happens," he placed a hand on Michael's cheek, "you will be the head of our family. Promise me that you will not place yourself in danger! Promise me there will never come a day when your mother has to bury us both!"

Michael subconsciously turned off Control over Emotions, which was pressing on his head like a vise, and tears came like a flood. Not holding back anymore, he pounced on his father with a hug.

How regrettable it was that his father had died in Michael's original world without them becoming so close!

"I love you too, son, and I don't want to lose you," Vladimir patted Michael's back. "Promise me, son."

"No, dad!" Michael broke the hug and smeared the tears all over his cheeks, beaming with a smile. "I promise you will not lose the battle with cancer! Not in the coming years, not ever! I'm sorry I kept this from you. I- I didn't realize how difficult it must have been. Look, I'll take care of it, just like before…"

"What are you rambling about?" the man frowned.

"Shhh! Look." Michael coated his hand in a golden glow and sneakily pressed it against Vladimir's Adam's apple.

When the warm stream of energy pierced his skin and entered the throat, Vladimir emitted a surprised gluck but sat still. Soon, the warmth turned into a light burning sensation.

"What just happened?" the man asked after Michael put his hand away.

"I blasted your tumor apart. No big deal. I've been doing it for months."

"Huh."

Vladimir stared at his son for a minute, then rubbed his forehead and gave a goofy grin. "I have no right to call myself the head of our family. Not after you've been supporting it for so long. And back in Russia…?"

Michael nodded. "That was me."

"You should've told us, young man! Your mother was worried sick for you for a whole month!"

Vladimir presented an exasperated front, but Michael saw through it. The relief, the gratitude that Vladimir felt couldn't be put into words.

"You're welcome, dad."

"What welcome? You naughty child! Haven't been spanked in a while, ah?!" Vladimir jumped up, making a show of unbuckling his belt.

"You can't do that! I'm an a.d.u.l.t!"

"Well, call the police then! Tell them I assaulted you!"

"Come on, dad! You won't actually… Jeez! Keep that belt away from me! Nooo!"

As they happily played tag a mere half an hour after going through a terrible ordeal, regret and bitterness Michael held in his heart after losing his parents began to dissipate.