"Time to test The Outcasts world."
After returning to Earth in his home universe, Rowan Mercer turned his attention toward one of the remaining untouched realms under his observation.
Among all available targets, this one felt the safest.
Based on the fragmented records he'd seen and the intelligence gathered by his avatar, Rowan suspected that the creator of this world was likely at a universal level of existence.
Only a hypothesis.
The truth would require direct confirmation.
He'd been wrong before.
He once assumed the Harry Potter universe was isolated, only to discover it was part of a multiversal structure with multiple parallel counterparts.
Still, compared to the others, this world posed the lowest apparent risk.
Rowan stepped into the flow of time and swept across the entire history of the realm, searching for any trace of a creator, divine throne, or foundational palace.
Nothing.
No lingering imprint.
No governing presence.
Rowan frowned.
"Either the creator is multiversal… or they're gone."
Both possibilities carried danger.
If the creator existed beyond this universe, then Rowan's probing had already drawn their attention.
If the creator was dead, then whatever destroyed them was far worse.
Avoiding action wouldn't reduce the risk.
So Rowan made a decision.
He would leave the universe directly and see what existed beyond it.
If things turned hostile, he would abandon this world immediately and retreat into the void.
Rowan raised his hand and sliced forward.
Nothing happened.
Space did not break.
He tried again, forming a portal to a parallel universe.
Failure.
His expression sharpened.
"The world is sealed."
That meant intent.
Someone, or something, had deliberately blocked external access.
Rowan summoned his reality-rending blade.
If conventional methods failed, brute force would have to suffice.
If a creator existed and meant no harm, opening a small breach would be inconsequential.
If a creator existed and meant harm, waiting would only make escape harder.
Rowan swung.
Space split open.
A narrow rift tore through the sealed boundary.
Before Rowan could step through—
The sky darkened.
Day turned to night in an instant.
Thunder rolled.
A bolt of lightning descended straight toward him.
"Are we doing tribulations now?" Rowan muttered.
He dispersed the lightning with a casual wave.
Another bolt followed.
Stronger.
Then another.
Each strike grew more violent.
By the eighth bolt, Rowan had to stop dispersing and simply absorbed it.
The ninth descended in violet fury, far denser and more destructive than the rest.
Rowan shifted into his draconic form and swallowed the lightning whole.
To this world's cultivators, such lightning would mean annihilation.
To Rowan, it barely qualified as a nuisance.
Then—silence.
The storm vanished.
Daylight returned.
Rowan felt a faint, unfamiliar energy merge into his body.
It didn't increase his power.
But it changed him.
Subtly.
Like a refinement.
"Did I… just undergo some kind of ascension?"
He didn't dwell on it.
Rowan spread his wings and passed through the rift.
What awaited him was not the endless void he expected.
Instead—
Vast green mountains.
Flowing rivers.
Endless forests.
Ancient cities built in classical architectural styles.
A living world.
Not chaos.
Not emptiness.
Rowan's pupils narrowed.
"An illusion?"
He concentrated.
Every fragment of soul across all avatars merged into his body.
His perception sharpened to its maximum.
The scenery contained traces of illusion.
But also reality.
And deeper still—laws woven with craftsmanship bordering on creation itself.
It reminded him, faintly, of how he constructed his own world.
But it was different.
More refined.
More… complete.
Rowan sensed movement.
Several powerful presences tore through space nearby.
Instinctively, he suppressed his aura and vanished.
Each presence carried power approaching universal scale.
Not stronger than him.
But close enough to be dangerous in numbers.
Rowan chose patience.
In a place this unfamiliar—
Observation came first.
...
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