Rowan stood in the center of the training chamber, his mental energy radiating outward in waves. The invisible force twisted the air, bending the magnetic fields around him as though reality itself resisted his presence.
The sheer scale of his power startled even him. At this moment, Rowan felt that with nothing but the strength of his mind, he could uproot an entire mountain.
It was intoxicating.
He wasn't just a man anymore. He had become a walking natural disaster.
Given enough time, he was confident he could erase every living being on Earth.
"The growth is too fast… it feels like it's spilling over. Hard to control…" Rowan murmured to himself, brow furrowed as he tried to steady the flood of psychic energy surging in every direction.
The power inside him had multiplied thousands of times since his last breakthrough. Such a terrifying leap would take years maybe decades to master.
But Rowan only chuckled softly. "Control can come later. What matters now is climbing higher. Power first, refinement after."
The thrill of it was undeniable. The sensation of tearing through limits, of watching his level skyrocket all at once, left him exhilarated.
Like a gambler hooked on the high of winning, he whispered to himself, "Once you start spending, it feels too good to stop."
He set his goal with a quiet determination. "Three years. Within three years, I'll bring the Divine Codex of the Celestial Arts to its thirtieth illustration."
For all his overwhelming strength, Rowan knew there was still a gap. He was already at the ninth tier of planetary level cultivation, yet his psychic amplitude was barely at nine. By his standards, it was laughable.
He rose from the meditation mat, his aura slowly drawing back into his body. On a nearby console, his phone flashed with dozens of missed calls and unread messages.
He didn't need to guess why. The revelation about Hydra had already shaken the world to its core.
No one had expected that nearly half of S.H.I.E.L.D. the so-called "Shield of America" was nothing more than Hydra's nest. Overnight, one of the world's most trusted organizations had become its greatest joke.
Natasha had been the first to explode when the truth surfaced. For years, she believed she was atoning for her bloody past by working for S.H.I.E.L.D. Now she realized she had been Hydra's pawn all along.
Enraged, she cut all ties with Fury, blocked his number, and immediately joined the Avengers in striking back against Hydra cells.
Even Maria Hill found herself disillusioned. To learn that so many of her colleagues had been Hydra agents all along left her shaken. After a night of chaos and bloodshed inside S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, she tendered her resignation directly to Fury.
But before she could even return home, the United Nations Security Council summoned her. They wanted Hill to step in, to act as their direct liaison to the Avengers. S.H.I.E.L.D. was finished, but the Avengers could not be allowed to collapse. Not when no one knew when the next alien invasion would arrive.
Hill, unsure of what to do, reached out to Rowan for advice.
Noticing her missed call only three minutes earlier, Rowan returned it immediately.
"Hello, Hill."
Her voice answered quickly, urgent but relieved. "Rowan! You've heard the news, haven't you? S.H.I.E.L.D. was crawling with Hydra agents. It's chaos. Last night, they nearly tore the organization apart."
Rowan listened with a faint smile. Of course he already knew after all, it was his AI, Friday, who had leaked the intel to the world.
"Hill, if the Security Council invited you, then accept," Rowan said calmly.
Kro Industries was stable under Sharon's leadership; he didn't need Hill for corporate work. But if she stepped into the United Nations, with his backing, she could rise even higher. With time, he could push her toward a seat as a permanent council member.
And when his power grew stronger still, he could leverage her position to shape the U.N. into something more a true governing force capable of unifying the planet.
Maria Hill, Secretary-General of the United Nations. A leader standing at humanity's forefront. A proxy captain of Earth itself.
Rowan smirked at the thought. "That role suits her perfectly."
"Accept…?" Hill echoed, surprised. She had half expected Rowan to insist she join his company, to keep her close.
"That's right," he confirmed. "And don't worry. With me behind you, you won't have to bow to the Avengers or to the Council. You'll answer to no one but yourself."
Hill's lips parted in surprise, then slowly curved into a smile. "Alright then."
For the first time in days, she felt a surge of relief. Rowan trusted her judgment and respected her path. It wasn't about serving him. He valued her as herself.
After hanging up, Rowan placed another call this one to Natasha.
The video feed trembled violently as the screen filled with motion and noise. Explosions and shockwaves rattled the camera until Natasha's face finally appeared, framed by chaos.
Behind her, Rowan glimpsed Captain America, Tony in his armor, and the towering Hulk. A silver streak blurred past the lens Pietro Maximoff, Quicksilver himself.
They were in the thick of battle, storming Baron Strucker's Hydra fortress with the help of Rowan's own enhanced soldiers from SPC Industries.
"Rowan," Natasha spat, her face hard, her eyes burning with anger. "I can't believe S.H.I.E.L.D. was rotten to the core!"
Her vibranium suit shimmered with violet light, releasing devastating pulses that sent Hydra soldiers crashing through the air.
"Natasha," Rowan replied, voice steady and warm. "Justice is never absolute. Do only what your conscience demands. Nothing else matters."
Her teeth clenched. "Then all I want is to wipe out every last Hydra parasite."
"Then wipe them out," Rowan said without hesitation, lips curving into a reassuring smile.
The blunt approval struck her harder than any bullet. He didn't scold her for her fury, didn't demand restraint. He embraced her rage and gave it legitimacy.
A warmth bloomed in her chest. For the first time in a long time, she felt anchored, safe, as though someone truly stood at her back.
"Good. Then I'll cut off every snake's head," she promised with a rare, radiant grin before ending the call.
Rowan exhaled softly and stepped out of the training chamber.
The moment he entered the lounge, he noticed Wanda curled up on the sofa, knees hugged tightly against her chest. Every so often she glanced toward the training room door. On the dining table nearby, a modest breakfast still steamed faintly.
Rowan's lips twitched upward. He didn't need to ask.
What he didn't know was how restless Wanda had been since last night.
She had awoken halfway through the night, unable to sleep again, mind spinning with fears. Rowan hadn't come to her. He hadn't given her any instructions, hadn't sought her out at all. Doubt gnawed at her heart.
Was she just a passing distraction to him? Something new and exciting, now already discarded?
The thought hurt more than she could bear.
By dawn, unable to take the uncertainty, Wanda rose quietly and prepared breakfast. But when she went to his room to call him, it was empty. Panic seized her chest until Friday calmly informed her Rowan had been training all night.
Only then did she breathe again, tears drying at the corners of her eyes.
So she had waited in the lounge ever since, stealing nervous glances at the training room door, like a loyal pup hoping her master would return.
Rowan followed her gaze to the breakfast she had set out cheese mille-feuille, two cups of Serbian red tea, jam-dipped paninis, and a plate of golden fried dough balls.
It was simple but thoughtful. Clearly made with care.
"You made this?" Rowan asked, amused. He ruffled her hair with a gentle hand. "Not bad at all."
Wanda blinked up at him, stunned by the casual praise. Then warmth rushed through her chest, her heart hammering faster as if trying to leap out of her ribcage.
No, he hadn't cast her aside. Not at all.
As his hand lingered in her hair, Wanda thought with sudden relief: He didn't lose interest in me after all.
And just like that, the shadows of doubt in her heart began to fade.
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