Lone Cultivator In Another World

"Please, guys, there's no reason to go that far."

The bastards laughed.

"Fine. Do me a favor, come at me like in movies, one by one," he said and added quietly, "so that I don't have to go too hard on you."

"Yeah, right. We gunna kill you, boy," provoked the closest thug. His bulging muscles danced under his skin. Michael couldn't help but notice that their leader was blessed with movie-star looks and physique. "Come on, why we waiting fo?"

Waiting?

"Why are you here?" Michael raised his hands, his voice breaking into a high pitch, betraying his nervousness and his physical body's young age.

"To beat yo a.s.s, ha-ha-ha!"

"I mean, why were you waiting for me here, on the way to the laboratory?" young cultivator asked again, louder.

"Cos you was gunna meet with yo girl," explained the lead thug condescendingly, "and we knew you'd go here. Don' worry tho. Mikey will take care of that chick."

Michael swallowed audibly. Was this his fate? To always clash with bullies, bastards and villains? To always suffer at the hands of the strong? To bring down his loved ones with him?

He clenched his fists, basking in the strength he possessed, all that superhuman power he had obtained in the last month.

'No. Never again.' Michael raised his head defiantly.

"Thank you," he smiled, glassy-eyed, "for making it easy for me."

Then, he moved.

It took Michael three large steps to reach the lead thug. Before the hooligan could react properly, Michael already punched him in the stomach so hard, he almost lifted his muscled body up. The thug choked on the air and violently vomited his dinner before his subordinates' eyes.

"I've been waiting ten years for this opportunity," mumbled Michael, "to fight back, to treat people like you the way I've been treated."

It was the thugs' words that dazed him. Even Leon never gave his men an order to beat him into a coma. Of course, that was mostly because the sicko preferred to let his victims suffer while conscious.

Michael took the hunched handsome youth's head and bashed his knee into it. As the body fell limply on the ground, movie-star looks gone with a broken nose, the other four thugs took a step back.

"Shit!"

"Guys, guys! He's alone! Don't let him catch you unprepared!"

"Yeah, let's kick his a.s.s and go spend the money!"

Michael ran at another thug closest to him. The youth stepped to the side, joining with a friend. Both of them waved their clubs at Michael, but he caught one and twisted it, blocking the other. His free hand passed under the crossed weapons to catch an attacker right under the chin.

Michael's open-palmed strike tilted the head, and the youth lost his balance, fell and hit his head on the ground. His friend's weapon was still in Michael's grasp. Pulling on the club, Michael grabbed his opponent's head in a chokehold.

However, at this point his strength didn't present him with an advantage. Even thrice stronger than a normal boy, Michael was only a slim 14-year-old with no habit of working out. First stage of cultivation was called Mind Enhancement because it didn't affect the body in a meaningful way. Without the momentum he used to finish off the first two opponents, Michael was stronger than his peers but could barely suppress the throws of the older youth in his hold.

In a moment of inspiration, he let go of the opponent's neck. At the same time, he slapped it back down with his left hand and connected his knee with the bastard's face. Taking a breather, he made sure Marco and the two hoodlums who could still stand weren't close.

Making a statement for them to see, he fiercely stepped on his last opponents' elbows with a sickening crunch. Michael wasn't sure he could do the same to their knees, and he didn't dare try with their friends still standing.

The youth who fell on his head screamed in pain, waking up only to have his c.h.e.s.t stepped on and lose consciousness again.

Michael found what was left of the bullies with his eyes and made them shudder. If he didn't look like a Harry Potter on a healthy diet, they would have sworn that he emitted a bloodthirsty aura. His presence almost palpable, Michael approached them.

"If your brains still function on something other than booze, you'll go and take care of your friends right now."

Without a second thought, the hooligans dropped their makeshift weapons with a thud. One threw his bat so convincingly, it clanked a few meters away, landing under Marco's feet. Hesitating no longer, they hurried to check on their buddies.

"Hey!" a shout stopped them, "Your boy Mikey. Pick him up in the morning. Let him spend a night in the park."

One thug nodded, muttering something non-threateningly under his nose. Michael decided to just let it go.

"And you, Marco. Lower your fists, you idiot."

"No! I won't let you roll over me!" shouted the boxer, shielding his face with his fists in a practiced stance.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"Right. Like you weren't going to hurt them?" the boy's thoughts were clearly in disarray. Michael already went from a target of revenge to a threat in his mind.

"Excuse me? Just who do you think is in the right here? Don't try acting like a noble now. I don't remember you trying to stop anyone when there were five armed people between you and me."

Marco's conviction crumbled as he put his hands down and stared at the ground.

"Good. Now, I want you to go to the principal tomorrow and admit that your father helped you get these 'fine' young men on the school grounds."

"No! Dad will get in trouble! And that's not even true!"

"No more trouble than he can handle. I'm sure he would prefer that to seeing his son on a hospital bed."

Marco shrunk down under Michael's threat.

"We had a spar with Donald. He lost, fair and square. Now look how he reacted to that," Michael waved his hand at the youths carefully shaking their friends out of their slumber, "and tell me honestly, is he a person you want to associate yourself with?"

Without waiting for an answer, young cultivator hurried towards the laboratory. He didn't notice how Marco flinched when he took off.

As he got closer to the laboratory, Michael saw the light was still on. The guard had already finished his shift and trusted the polite girl not to steal the supplies. The scientists' work was under lock and key, anyway.

Take a peek into a window, there was Anna, sitting on a chair and hugging her own shoulder, staring into the dark. Near the entrance, there was a tall, lanky youth wearing a bandana. He was munching on sunflower seeds and guarding the door. Michael approached him from behind when the thug exclaimed, "Come out, girlie, let's have some fun!"

That stopped Michael in his tracks. He saw red, and suddenly knocking out that little f.u.c.k wasn't enough for him. He imagined Anna getting ready to head to the dorms, when this hooligan steps out and waves his baseball bat around, yelling profanities. No, Anna wouldn't call him then, or she would've asked him to bring help. The thug appeared later, just to make sure she stayed in place.

And then? After Michael had been beaten up, what would he have done to her then? Touch her? Grab her? Defile her?

"Yo, Mikey!"

The youth turned slowly, not suspecting a thing.

Punch.

Take the bat, throw it away.

Punch.

Take his head, hold it by the hair.

Punch.

Punch.

Punch.

Michael stopped only when Mikey's face turned into a bloody mess. He smashed his boneless body against the tree, tinkered with it a bit and headed to the laboratory. Remembering to check himself, he adjusted his messy, sweaty hair and rubbed his bloody knuckles over some leaves.

The blood didn't want to go away.

Trembling from an adrenaline rush, he put one hand in the jeans pocket and knocked on the door, "Anna, hey, sorry I'm late!"

"Michael!" she squeaked, opening the door, and tried to pull him inside.

"Hey, what's the commotion?" he laughed.

Anna looked around, searching for the hooligan who threatened her before. She glanced at Michael with suspicion and asked, "Was there anyone here when you came?"

"I guess I bumped into an older student? There was a couple in the park, too."

"No, it wasn't a student."

"Anna, slow down, what are you talking about?"

The girl huffed and questioned him, "Why didn't you pick up the phone? I called you again after we spoke."

Michael squashed the impulse to check his pockets demonstratively, showing her the bloody hand and ruining the charade. He remembered the impact of five upgrades straining his mind. Did he forget to take his cellphone after that?

"I left it at home," he shrugged.

"You're terrible."

"Look, what's going on? Can we go? It's so late already."

"Yeah," the girl blushed cutely like only she could, "Thanks for coming for me." And whispered, "Even if you didn't know."

Michael's s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e ears picked up her last comment, but he didn't react. 'Of course, I knew. Why do you think there's a body in the bushes?'

He walked the girl to the dorms and slept like a baby through the night.

…

The next morning, Anna didn't seem like anything spoiled her mood the day before. With Michael, she was always adorable and smiled often. As they entered the classroom, he asked the girl to save him a seat which she would have done anyway.

Donald was startled when someone grabbed his shoulder.

"Hey, Donny. Met your friends yesterday. Man, were they a sorry bunch. Broken noses, crushed elbows. Pathetic all around."

"What are you talking about?" the judoist paled.

Michael leaned down to lower his voice to a whisper and stared Donald in the eyes.

"I want you to know, there are monsters in this world. They look just like the rest of us, but the things they do – I can't begin to describe. The thing about monsters is, they never just appear. They are created. Do you understand?"

Donald swallowed and shook his head, lost in Michael's words.

"You made a big mistake, Donny." Michael squeezed the boy's shoulder with all his strength. To him, this grasp seemed more powerful that any of yesterday's punches. Donald gasped through his teeth so hard, his throat closed off. "Don't give me a chance to make you pay for it."

Michael held on to the hurting shoulder long enough to place his free hand on Donald's desk and put something there. Then, he let go and went back to Anna. As soon as Donald realized what was on his desk, he hurried to collect the little things before his classmates could see them for what they were.

A dozen of Mikey's bloody teeth.