"This must be the true source of the Eternal Flame. Surtur must have stolen only a fragment of its power…"
Rowan studied the golden stone burning with eternal fire. Its brilliance filled the cavern with a heat so intense it seemed to warp the air itself. He ran his fingers over the waves of energy pulsing around it, already calculating its worth.
"The flames here are rich and abundant. It will be the perfect place to cultivate," he thought, smiling faintly to himself.
He had no intention of taking the golden stone away. The truth was, Rowan already possessed four Infinity Stones. To him, this fiery relic offered little in the way of direct power. What he truly needed now was enlightenment just a sliver of understanding of the Law of Fire.
This place, saturated with elemental energy, was more valuable as a crucible for training than any trophy he could carry away.
"I've reached the Stellar rank now," Rowan murmured, his smile widening. "There's no need to rush anymore."
With the Power Stone and the Mind Stone in his grasp, he could climb steadily through the Stellar tiers. Soon he would stand at the Ninth Tier, strong enough to shatter the Golden-Horned Beast should it appear again. Without that looming threat, his goals became clearer: master the Laws of Fire and Space before the Cosmic Genius Tournament arrived.
…
"Rowan… you… you've reached the Stellar rank?"
In the world of Swallowed Star, Enchantress nearly dropped her wineglass when he revealed the news. The usually composed woman stood frozen, her lips parted in disbelief.
She had assumed Rowan was only at the early Planetary level. For her, climbing even one step higher was an ordeal. It was then she remembered what Victor Gale had said before that Rowan might already be stepping into the Stellar realm.
It seemed absurd.
Enchantress herself was a Planetary-tier warrior. She knew intimately how grueling the climb was. Each increment felt like scaling a cliffside with bare hands. Yet Rowan had done it, silently and swiftly.
Now she understood why Victor Gale had been so eager to tie her fate to Rowan's. His talent was monstrous, beyond anything she had imagined.
And if Rowan truly had ascended to Stellar rank, what was she beside him but a pale reflection?
Rowan chuckled at her astonishment. "Enchantress, don't spread the news just yet. Let's save it for a surprise one for the Guildmaster and the others."
His grin carried a mischievous edge. He was already picturing Victor Gale, Thor, and Luo Feng staring in slack-jawed disbelief. To swoop in when all hope was lost, to crush despair with his sudden strength that would be a moment worth savoring.
For Enchantress, the revelation only bound her more tightly to him. Outwardly she remained the Ice Queen, a beauty as untouchable as marble. But at home, in Rowan's presence, she became softer, obedient, pliant to his whims. Her masks of pride melted into his hands, her every guise undone.
…
Meanwhile, Luo Feng was proving his worth within the Elite Training Camp. His potential had finally burst into view, driving him into the top twenty of the Black Dragon rankings. Even Victor Gale had been startled by the boy's psychic gifts.
And so, the camp faced its greatest trial of the year the life-and-death expedition to the Australian continent.
"Vinina, don't worry. I swear I'll kill Luo Feng for what he did to our son," Li Yao vowed, his black battle armor gleaming under the cabin lights of the warship. His voice dripped with venom.
Months had dulled his humiliation, but the fire of vengeance only burned hotter. He had thought of a hundred ways to break Luo Feng, each crueler than the last. Rowan, though? That name he dared not linger on. To consider Rowan was to recall terror. So he forced his mind away, focusing all his hatred on Luo Feng instead.
Luo Feng, forewarned by Rowan, anticipated Li Yao's ambush. He was confident, but not careless. Plans had been laid, contingencies drawn.
Deep within Misty Island, Babata, the ancient AI, was also waiting. He knew only Luo Feng could fulfill the legacy of Huyanbo.
…
Rowan, however, had little concern for those rivalries. His eyes were fixed elsewhere on the Marvel Universe.
"So, the Ancient One has fallen, and Strange has taken her mantle as Sorcerer Supreme," Rowan mused after hearing Turk's report. His lips curved in satisfaction.
The Ancient One was gone. Soon, Odin would follow. One by one, the old gods who could stand against him were crumbling. Hela might rise, but even she was no Odin. And Rowan now bore the Infinity Gauntlet itself, his Stellar strength humming at his command. Crushing her would be trivial, especially with Surtur waiting to ignite Ragnarök.
"No distractions," Rowan whispered. "Now, I hunt Thanos."
With a snap of his fingers, a blue vortex spiraled open, delivering him to Xandar. The Nova Corps' shining world hid shadows of its own, and in the black markets beneath, Rowan purchased whispers with ease.
The news disturbed him.
Thanos' Black Order had been striking planet after planet, yet the Mad Titan had changed his methods. No longer did he cull populations by halves. Instead, he gathered the strongest survivors into brutal arenas, forcing them to butcher one another until only the most savage remained.
Thanos was building an army not of conscripts, but of predators honed by bloodshed. Soon he would command millions, perhaps tens of millions.
And though others were blind to the threat, Rowan could see it clearly. Thanos' gaze was turning toward Earth.
But where was the Titan himself? Reports named only the Black Order at work. Thanos, it seemed, was hiding. Rowan's instincts told him the truth: the warlord was plotting something deeper.
"He must not be allowed to grow unchecked," Rowan muttered.
Unbeknownst to him, his guess was correct. Thanos was elsewhere on a rotten world of shadow and thorn. There, amid jagged obsidian spires and writhing black symbiotes, the Mad Titan descended into a valley where a pale, thin figure sat chained to a throne.
The figure raised his head, white hair falling across hollow eyes. It was Knull, the god of the symbiotes.
…
Rowan knew better than to attack Thanos' legions himself. Millions of soldiers across scattered systems what a waste of effort. More importantly, direct action would reveal too much. If Thanos learned the measure of Rowan's strength, he might slink into hiding, biding time until a perfect strike. That was not what Rowan wanted.
No, better to let another face Thanos first someone powerful enough to crush his armies, but not so terrifying that the Titan would vanish into the void.
A few names came to mind. The first was Captain Marvel, Carol Danvers. Alone, she could obliterate Thanos' host of millions. And with her unyielding sense of justice, she would not hesitate to confront such evil.
The second possibility was Zeus, the god-king of Olympus, who wielded his own pantheon. Yet Rowan hesitated there. Old gods were dangerous, often hiding blades sharper than they showed. Until he reached the Cosmic level, he had no interest in testing their mysteries.
"Better to start with Carol," Rowan decided. "Simple. Effective. No hidden costs."
Nick Fury still held the pager to summon her. That was all Rowan needed.
With the Mind Stone, he bent Fury's will, whispering his commands into the old spy's mind. Moments later, a signal was sent across the stars. Captain Marvel would soon return to Earth.
…
And elsewhere, the stage for Ragnarök was already being set. Surtur had forged a new Twilight Sword at great cost, a weapon nearly the equal of his first. Thor, troubled by prophetic dreams, sought him out and with Mjolnir's last swing, shattered his skull, carrying the relic back to Asgard.
Loki's deception unraveled, Odin's death came at last, and Hela, unbound, crushed the hammer like glass. As Thor and Loki fell into exile, a rainbow bridge collapsed behind them.
And from another portal, Rowan stepped into the fading light, smiling at the shattered remains of Mjolnir.
"At last," he whispered. "The old wolf is gone. The throne lies waiting."
He traced the last shimmer of the Bifrost, memorizing its resonance with the Space Stone. A key, now his to use. Soon Asgard itself would be his.
But for now, he returned to his training. The Laws of Fire still called, and the universe offered no shortage of flames to master.
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