For the next two days, Rowan and Wanda marveled at the endless wonders of space. Nebulas shimmered like spilled ink across the void, clusters of stars burned with quiet majesty, and the silence of the cosmos wrapped around their ship like an eternal blanket.
Yet, no matter how magnificent the sights, time dulled even wonder. After the initial awe passed, boredom crept in. To ease it, Rowan decided to transfer the Black God Suit to Wanda.
His own strength had already advanced to the peak of Planetary Rank Nine. His mental power had grown so strong that his very body was being reforged by the feedback of that spiritual energy. The Black God Suit, once invaluable, was now little more than a toy to him. With his Vibranium armor, he no longer needed it. Wanda, however, did. Out here in the vast unknown, danger could lurk anywhere. The suit would be her lifeline.
But practicality wasn't the only reason. To Rowan, the idea of Wanda wearing the suit carried… other amusements.
The suit shifted with her thoughts, taking on any form she or Rowan willed. Over the past two days, Rowan had witnessed Wanda in a host of guises: the sharp elegance of a cheongsam, the soft humility of a maid, the solemn purity of a nun, even the playful whimsy of a bunny girl. At his slightest suggestion, the Black God Suit obliged.
And Wanda, to his surprise, complied without protest. She had surrendered herself to his guidance fully, body and will.
Her twin, Pietro still working under the radar would never have imagined that in the time he toiled, his sister had already been completely claimed by Rowan.
That morning, with Wanda dressed once more in the bunny girl outfit, kneeling beside him and dutifully massaging his legs, Rowan's voice cut through the quiet hum of the ship.
"Wanda, do you want to grow stronger?"
She paused, blinking up at him. "Stronger?" Her soft voice carried no hesitation, only curiosity.
Once, strength had been her obsession. Power meant freedom, power meant escape from Hydra's grasp. But now, her situation had changed. She was Rowan's maid, sheltered by his presence. What need had she for power, when her role was only to obey?
She shook her head, her crimson hair brushing against her flushed cheeks. "No, Master. I don't need strength. I won't ever betray you." Her emerald eyes glistened, as if afraid he might doubt her devotion.
Rowan chuckled and reached out, ruffling her hair affectionately. "Silly girl. If you don't grow stronger, how will you keep up with me?" His gaze shifted, drifting out the viewing glass into the infinite sea of stars.
He spoke with a seriousness Wanda hadn't often seen in him.
It was the truth. Soon enough, Rowan would break into the ranks of star-level warriors, and beyond that, into the domain of cosmic and even immortal beings. If those who followed him could not keep pace, they would wither away in his shadow, their lives snuffed out long before his own.
Even time itself would become a wall between them. What was a hundred years to him, when he could vanish into seclusion for centuries? By the time he emerged, ordinary companions would already be dust.
Wanda's heart clenched. The memory of those two days ago, when she had thought he might leave her behind, came rushing back with fresh panic. Her voice trembled as she clung tighter to his knee.
"Then I want it! I want to be strong enough to stay with you!"
Rowan looked down at her, his expression calm but his eyes sharp. "Are you sure? Walking my path will not be easy. To follow me, you'll have to endure hardships most would crumble under."
Wanda's answer came without pause. "Yes! I'm sure!" Her hands tightened on him, her head nodding furiously.
A faint smile curved Rowan's lips. "Good. Then I'll teach you."
What he intended to pass down was the Five-Heart Meditation, a cultivation method unlike anything this universe had known. Even he was curious: could someone like Wanda, born of this world, wield the technique as he had? And more importantly, what would it awaken within her?
"Sit," he instructed. "Mirror my posture."
She obeyed, folding her legs and placing her palms open, her hands and feet aligned, her crown tilted upward the classic five-heart alignment. Rowan's voice guided her steadily, explaining how to quiet her mind, how to open herself to the unseen streams of cosmic energy all around.
He shared with her the lessons of his own first attempts: the stumbling grasp of energies beyond comprehension, the discipline needed to shape them, the patience to wait for resonance.
Wanda closed her eyes, breathing slow, lips parting slightly as she entered meditation.
Minutes passed.
And then, Rowan's brows lifted. A faint crimson glow began to seep from Wanda's skin, wrapping her in a haze of power.
Settling back, Rowan folded into his own cultivation, though his attention never left her. He could feel the currents shifting, gathering around her body. Wanda's sensitivity to energy was astonishing unsurprising, perhaps, for someone whose gift was to touch the very threads of reality.
She felt it too.
Like invisible rivers, the currents flowed around Rowan, pooling at his side. Curious, Wanda reached out with her mind and they answered. At the slightest thought, the streams divided, trickling into her palms, her soles, the crown of her head.
Warmth spread through her veins. The more she drew, the more her body changed.
Her bones thickened, her muscles coiled with new vitality, her very cells trembling as they shed their weakness for something new.
Rowan's astonishment deepened. She was not merely sensing energy she was absorbing it. And in only minutes! He had expected to lend her a Celestial Elixir to prepare her body, but Wanda had leapt forward on her own, as though born for this path.
Of course, she was no ordinary girl. The Scarlet Witch's gift was chaos magic itself. In another world, such a talent would rival even immortal gods.
Her glow brightened, her heart pounded, and her breath quickened. Yet she persisted, eyes closed, focused wholly on the flood of change.
An hour passed before a soft cry escaped her lips. Her eyes flew open, and for a moment, twin whirlpools of dark crimson swirled within them, vast and terrifying. But when her gaze landed on Rowan, the storm stilled. The red faded, and clarity returned.
Then she looked down and gasped in horror.
Her skin was coated in a foul gray-black grime, impurities expelled by her transformation. Embarrassment overwhelmed her. Flustered, she scrambled to her feet and dashed toward the washroom.
Rowan only laughed at her panic, the corners of his mouth tugging upward.
Moments later, the hiss of water echoed through the ship. Rowan rose, following unhurriedly, his curiosity matched only by his satisfaction.
Behind the shower's veil, Wanda's shy cries mingled with the rush of water. Rowan examined her anew, and what he found confirmed his suspicion: her body had been reborn. Her skin was flawless, unmarred by the faintest blemish. Her frame, once delicate, now radiated the vitality of a warrior.
By his measure, she had reached the level of a mid-tier fighter. From the strength of a novice to this in one attempt such progress was unthinkable for anyone else. But for Wanda, it was reality.
Drying herself, she returned in a form-fitting yoga suit shaped by the Black God Suit. Rowan instructed her to test her punches and speed. Each blow cracked the air, each step blurred like lightning. She was, without question, a warrior now.
Her joy was uncontainable. To think, one lesson from him had given her the body of a super-soldier. Her eyes sparkled as she turned to him, gratitude and awe brimming.
Rowan's voice cut through her wonder. Calm, commanding.
"Good. Now that your body has changed, it's time you learn how to fight like a psychic warrior."
And so, her true training began.
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