"So if I reach that stage," Rowan said slowly, "I'd be qualified to step into the chaos and start searching for other worlds."
The realization sent a quiet tremor through him.
Ilúvatar's explanation meant that the plan Rowan had once considered impossible—reuniting his scattered incarnations—was no longer fantasy.
It was viable.
Difficult.
Dangerous.
But real.
The obstacles were obvious.
Not every creator would be as accommodating as Ilúvatar.
Some would see Rowan as an intruder.
Others might attempt to devour him outright.
If a creator refused to let him leave, Rowan would have no choice but to force his way out.
There was also the matter of scale.
Ilúvatar existed at an early stage of multiversal growth.
With enough preparation—and with the combined strength of multiple incarnations—Rowan might eventually break free from a reality like this.
But worlds such as Marvel were different.
Their creators operated on an entirely higher order.
Forcing an exit from a domain overseen by such beings would require Rowan to become something far beyond what he currently was.
Another problem lay within the chaos itself.
It wasn't empty.
It wasn't peaceful.
Predatory creators roamed there.
Some hunted other creators the way beasts hunted prey.
Wandering too early would be suicide.
And finally…
Chaos had no concept of time or distance.
Two creators might drift for eons without ever encountering one another.
The only reliable anchor Rowan possessed was the faint resonance linking all of his incarnations.
They were fragments of the same will.
The same consciousness.
That connection could act as a compass.
Not a precise map.
But better than blind wandering.
Rowan exhaled quietly.
The conclusion was clear.
Grow stronger.
Stabilize first.
Reach the absolute peak of what a single universe could sustain.
Then begin retrieving the versions of himself that belonged to worlds easiest to leave.
Two incarnations meeting in the chaos.
Merging.
Crossing a higher threshold.
Once that happened, every other incarnation would be dragged upward by the shared core.
Each reunion would accelerate the next.
A chain reaction.
Until, one day, even a reality like Marvel would no longer be able to cage him.
It was ambitious.
It was reckless.
But Rowan had never survived by aiming small.
While Rowan was lost in thought, Ilúvatar spoke again.
"I'm curious. What was the world you originally came from like? It's possible I've encountered something similar before."
Rowan hesitated.
Then chose his answer carefully.
"A world filled with mages. Magic guilds. Cities built around spellcraft. A place where magic is part of everyday life."
He described the Fairy Tail world in broad strokes.
It matched many of the techniques he had already displayed.
If Ilúvatar recognized the style, it would feel natural.
Ilúvatar nodded slowly.
"That explains it. Your magic felt familiar."
Rowan blinked.
"You know that world?"
"Not directly," Ilúvatar said with a small smile. "I avoid worlds that possess multiple parallel branches. Their creators are rarely weaker than I am."
"Then how—"
Ilúvatar waved his hand.
A thick, glossy book appeared on the table.
Rowan saw the title.
Fairy Tail.
His chair nearly tipped backward.
"You're telling me… you have comics?"
Ilúvatar looked mildly amused.
"A creator I met in the chaos collects stories. He doesn't enjoy managing worlds. He prefers traveling and recording what he observes."
With another gesture, dozens of books materialized.
Comics.
Novels.
Illustrated volumes.
"He records the histories of various worlds and turns them into stories," Ilúvatar said. "Then he trades them with other creators as gifts."
Rowan picked up one at random.
Inside was the familiar tale of Natsu, Lucy, and their companions.
It wasn't identical to what Rowan remembered living through.
But it was close.
Close enough to make his stomach tighten.
"If I hadn't interfered," Rowan thought, "this is probably how things would have unfolded."
Ilúvatar continued.
"He also recorded my world."
"He seemed especially fond of the Third Age."
"He titled those records The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies and The Lord of the Rings."
Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Did this… collector happen to give you his name?"
Ilúvatar selected another book from the pile and handed it over.
"He called himself Hongjun. This is a story from one of his worlds."
Rowan glanced at the cover.
Investiture of the Gods.
For several seconds, Rowan simply stared.
Reality felt thinner than it should.