Lone Cultivator In Another World

Michael stood up from his chair to let mom get closer to dad's face. He walked around the bed and watched them hug gently. Vladimir Severniy's sickly appearance did nothing to deter his wife from pouring her every feeling into the embrace, her love and hope to spend more time with the man.

They whispered words of love like careless children and renewed their wedding vows by simply looking into one another's eyes. Their son gave them time, observing the heartwarming manifestation of the pair's tender feelings. Nothing reminds of the place a person holds in your heart like thoughts of losing him.

Somewhere, Alice was living her life. She didn't know him and could never imagine they might take part in a similar scene one day. The thought tore at his heartstrings. All of a sudden, watching his parents together was painful, so much that a lesser man would feel envious at their happiness. But Michael suppressed the vile emotion and coughed to get the couple's attention.

"Son," wheezed Vladimir, "Come here."

After sharing a hug with his dad, Michael could think of nothing better than to leave his parents alone while he looked for a doctor. When the staff heard their terminal patient woke up, they scurried to talk to him, run tests, perform procedures. When the results showed the tumor was gone, it sparked a large argument about the causes of this metamorphosis.

The family asked to leave them in peace and fight outside their room.

"How do you feel, dad?" asked Michael.

"Surprisingly good, actually." Vladimir's voice was more stable. After drinking water and getting his son's supernatural treatment, the refreshed man sounded like a human being.

"Any pain in your throat?"

"No, not right now. I'm fine. I want to hear about you. Mom tells me," he shared another glance with his wife, "you're excelling in your studies abroad. I'm so proud."

"If you want to hear my news," Michael grinned, "you'll have to keep an open mind."

"Huh? Go on."

"I'm posting educational and other videos to YouTube. Each one gets me $40-50, coming up to over $500 a week. Or at least it will, after I sign up to be a partner."

Michael didn't have enough time to begin running ads during the two days he was recovering from his wounds before the trip to Russia. Back then, his popularity barely allowed it, but now, with references from Angry Birds, his videos got tens of thousands of hits.

"Impressive. Do you see yourself keeping up with this?"

"Yeah, dad. This is only the beginning. The real thing is the game my classmates and I made…"

"This again! Volodya, he talks about it non-stop. Maybe you can talk some sense into him!" barked his mom.

"Nadya!" the man's low, booming voice affected by disease scared his wife, "Let him finish. Son, what is it about?"

"A puzzle game. To put it simply, you launch birds at pigs. Like a catapult. There are ways to do it with the most efficiency which earns you more points."

"Can you show me?"

Michael took out an old iPhone he got from Dimitri. Michael's own ran on Android, and that version of the game was still in the works. He demonstrated the interface, the birds' abilities and even the animations.

"We made this last asteroid look like the comet, so it kind of sends a message."

His father smiled, "I like it. Looks very good. What was your part of it?"

"I designed the levels."

"You hear that, woman? He designed the game! Our son, a game designer! Why are you giving him grief for it?"

Nadezhda Severniy chewed on her lips. She didn't mean to raise her voice on Misha, but the last month took a toll on her emotional state. In fact, she hadn't seen the game before, and it did look very good. Its quality was terrific. What she thought of as her son's fleeting interest, turned out to be a worthy time investment.

"Mom's just emotional after you woke up so suddenly, dad," Michael saved her from the predicament.

"Right. I'm sorry, dear. I'll be fine from now on," promised the man.

"And the most important thing! We priced it at $3. The first 25 levels are free, and you only need to pay for the rest. But guess how many downloads we got?"

Vladimir studied his son's smug grin and speculated, "Maybe a hundred thousand?"

He wanted to put his son in his place, to remind him there was always a mountain beyond the mountain, so he quoted an exaggerated number.

"Close," Michael nodded, to his father's surprise, "Thirty million."

The parents sat in shocked silence. Michael showed them some statistics on the screen. Both Vladimir and Nadezhda soon grasped the new reality – their son was successful at fourteen.

"Not everyone pays for the whole thing, of course. And we've taken measures against hacking, but I'm sure Angry Birds is on the Internet in some form. Still, about six million people bought the game this month."

"That's… eighteen?"

"Eighteen million," nodded Vladimir, "How much of that is yours?"

"About fifteen," grinned Michael. "My friends were cautious with their shares."

"That's not how you treat your friends! I-I'm not saying you should give them everything," Michael's father corrected himself, "but they need to be compensated. Good faith is important in business."

"Don't worry, dad. I'll talk to them as soon as I'm back in Switzerland. Meanwhile, you can just marvel at this number and praise me. Praise me more!"

There was a bank account balance on the phone screen, with over $18,000,000. Michael's father, an experienced entrepreneur and businessman, took note of the account specifics. It was a joint one which meant only a group of people gathered together could take the money out. Vladimir smiled internally at his son's ac.u.men, 'The boy has grown up.'

"And since I have to go back to school and a fortune, I think you need to finally come with us."

"Mm. I'm not sure that's a good idea, son."

When Nadezhda Severniy came back to Russia to finish up at work a few weeks ago, her husband was on bed rest, and she barely saw him. He stubbornly refused to up and leave to another country, unwilling to let go of everything he had and knew. Misha could continue his education in Russia and be all the better for it, he thought. Who could predict a magical comet would send the world into chaos, and he would end up in the hospital, on the brink of death?

"Are you going on about that again? Do you see this money? I guarantee you, a good chuck of it belongs to us. How much is your second-hand store worth? I-I'll buy it from you, all right? Will you come with us then?"

Vladimir had nothing to respond to his son's barrage of questions. Truth was, however difficult life was for him in Russia, he never traveled far away from his home country. There was a healthy dose of fear of the unknown in his decision-making. Nadya at least spoke some English, but he only knew business Chinese from his previous semi-legal work ten years ago.

The torn man glanced at his wife. There was nothing he wanted more at the moment than to spend more time with his family, and Nadya's visage, full of anticipation, tipped the scale.

"Fine," he gave up, "when are we leaving?"

"You need to stay for tests!" retorted his wife. "You woke up hours ago, we can't move you to another country now! Misha, you tell him."

Michael gave his mom a weak smile. Actually, the safest place on Earth for his father was next to him, a cultivator who could heal him anytime.

"Nonsense! I am strong like a bull!" the man shook his thinner-than-a-month-ago arms. "I want to meet my son's friends and shake their hands! The last thing I need is to lie in bed. I'm sick of it!"

"We can go tomorrow. Why stay here any longer? For now, let's keep the apartment, it's hard to sell for what we paid for it, anyway. If you're worried about your workers, we'll send them severance packages with enough zeroes to ease their troubles. We'll retrieve some money, you guys can take a couple million and travel the world or check into any hospital you like. Deal?"

Both father and mother nodded. A warm feeling spread in Michael's stomach as they looked at one another again and held hands. Finally, he could stop concerning himself with their happiness and turn towards his own.

With money in hand, it was time to cultivate more seriously. Not only his body but also his relationsh.i.p.s and public image.

'Glory. Open the shop for me, please. Let's see what the eighth star has to offer,' he thought, heading out.

.