If the two techniques could truly be fused, the name almost didn't matter. Plasma Railgun. Electromagnetic Plasma Cannon. Even something shorter would do.
What mattered was whether it worked.
"Let's try it."
Rowan vanished and reappeared on a deserted stretch of land outside New York. He layered concealment charms, Muggle-repelling wards, and a reinforced spell boundary before taking a breath.
"Plasma Cannon."
He brought his hands together, then slowly pulled them apart. Between his palms, a sphere of incandescent plasma formed, no larger than an egg. Normally, that would be the final step. Aim. Fire.
He didn't.
Instead, electricity surged across his body, controlled and deliberate. He fed the current directly into the plasma sphere.
The sphere grew. Egg-sized became apple-sized. Apple-sized became something closer to a pear.
Then it destabilized.
The plasma detonated in his hands, carving a crater more than ten meters deep into the ground. The shockwave rippled outward.
Rowan remained standing.
His body absorbed the backlash without injury, and the electricity dispersed harmlessly back into his control.
"Again."
Failure didn't discourage him. Fusion never came easily.
This wasn't like combining ancient lightning magic with the thunder giant, where one power simply fed another. That had been amplification, not integration. What he was attempting now was fundamentally different. Two systems, one outcome.
He tried again.
And again.
Every incarnation of himself paused their own work and focused on this single problem. Five bodies across different worlds. Add in the Time-Turner at Hogwarts, and the effort amounted to nearly a month of uninterrupted research.
On the fifth day, it finally clicked.
"Plasma Railgun."
Rowan pulled a glowing sphere into existence once more, then forced electromagnetic acceleration through it with absolute precision. When it reached the size of two basketballs, he thrust his hands forward.
A pillar of blinding plasma erupted from the sphere.
The beam slammed into a mountain more than three hundred meters tall. The center vanished instantly, vaporized as if erased from reality. The beam didn't stop.
Rowan swept his arm to the side.
The mountain split cleanly in half, severed at the waist by the sustained plasma column. Molten stone cascaded downward as the beam finally dissipated.
Ten seconds.
That was all he could maintain it for now.
Rowan exhaled slowly, satisfied. The power was immense. And this was only the beginning. Once his abilities advanced further, the output would increase dramatically.
The only drawback was compatibility.
He couldn't use the plasma railgun while maintaining the thunder giant. Both techniques demanded full control of his electrical output in different ways.
But even that wasn't a dead end.
At the next stage of his growth, he would be able to split his power. Half to sustain the thunder giant. Half to feed the plasma railgun. Add ancient lightning magic on top, and the result would be catastrophic.
City-ending, at minimum.
"Later," Rowan murmured. "No need to rush."
He vanished once more, returning to the underground laboratory beneath the subway.
"Next," he said quietly, "soul magic."
To extract Morgana's knowledge without killing her host, he would need precision. Soul Separation. Soul Sealing.
The first would allow him to pull a soul from its vessel. The second would let him imprison what could not be destroyed.
He had never studied soul magic before. It was dangerous, complex, and slow to master.
But time was something he now had in excess.
And if necessary, he could always borrow insight from darker sources. Not imitation. Just understanding.
After all, the way he divided his existence across worlds wasn't entirely unlike a certain Dark Lord's obsession.
The difference was simple.
Rowan remained whole.