Marvel's master of cosmic magic-Chapter 827

In Nokia’s hands, a reserve of magic that could have filled a lake barely amounted to a cup. He wasted most of it through inefficiency and inexperience, squeezing out only a fraction of its potential before exhausting himself.

In Rowan Mercer’s hands, the same reserve flowed cleanly, precisely—nothing lost, nothing squandered. What had once been a feeble trickle now moved like a controlled current. Even a simple healing spell could be refined, adjusted, strengthened. With a few subtle alterations, Rowan transformed it into something far beyond its original design.

To any observer, this body still carried modest magical power.

In practice, Rowan could use it to restore a man from the brink of death. Lost limbs. Punctured lungs. Even damage to the heart or brain—none of it would remain for long.

Passing the Magic Knight entrance exam would not be a problem.

Once in the capital, he intended to study other grimoires. With his understanding of magic’s underlying principles, reproducing their techniques would be straightforward. His book would not remain limited to healing for long.

Even without copying local spells, he was hardly restricted. Magic native to other worlds was off-limits—too conspicuous, too likely to draw attention from this realm’s unseen architect. But authorities tied to fundamental laws could be employed without detection. They did not rely on mana; they drew from something deeper.

When he had entered this body, he had already invoked three such forces—subtle manipulations of theft, fate, and death.

This avatar was weak compared to his greater incarnations. The power he could channel here was restrained. What once could warp the mind of a god now merely unsettled beasts and ordinary mages.

Still, it was more than enough.

He had not gone far along the forest road before he encountered three familiar shapes.

The wild boars.

They recognized him as prey and charged.

Rowan sighed.

"Blindness."

The word was barely audible.

The three beasts skidded to a halt mid-charge. Their eyes clouded. Aggression drained from their faces, replaced by vacant confusion.

He examined them.

"One will carry me. The other two... dinner."

He gestured to the largest boar. With a flick of suggestion, he bent its will and guided it to kneel.

As for the other two, Rowan applied a different principle—life turned upon itself. Their bodies swelled unnaturally. Moments later, small piglets tore free.

The forest fell silent again.

Rowan conjured a simple campfire and roasted the piglets slowly over the flames.

He had not prepared food by hand in some time. It was easier to transfigure feasts into existence, to summon wine with a thought. Yet this felt... grounding.

The meat was surprisingly good. Perhaps the ambient mana of this world enriched even its wildlife.

When he finished eating, he mounted the surviving boar and continued toward the capital at an unhurried pace.

The Magic Knight exam was still a month away. There was no reason to rush.

Time in this world moved differently from the vast void beyond it. A single day outside might equal a year here. His role for now was reconnaissance—marking the world, mapping its structure. Greater action would come later, when a stronger incarnation followed the path he carved.

He crossed forests, mountains, stretches of desert, and eventually open plains. After more than two weeks of steady travel, the Clover Kingdom’s capital rose before him.

It crowned a mountain, gleaming white stone against blue sky.

Rowan slowed the boar and studied the city carefully.

The air was different.

Denser.

Mana gathered here in thicker currents than anywhere he had traveled.

That explained much.

Children raised in the capital would naturally develop stronger magical aptitude. The closer one lived to this nexus, the greater the advantage from birth. Those on the frontier—like Nokia—were simply less favored by the environment itself.

Wealth of mana, like wealth of coin, accumulated at the center.

Clover’s laws discouraged commoners from relocating freely without cause. An effective way to preserve the existing hierarchy. If rural families flooded the capital, the odds of powerful mages emerging among them would rise.

Over time, the balance would shift.

Rowan felt no urge to correct that imbalance.

Revolutions only replaced one ruling class with another. Nobles became commoners; commoners became new nobles. The structure endured.

To Rowan, there were only two categories: allies and enemies.

Everything else was incidental.

He rode the boar through the outer gates without issue. Along the way, he had collected gold nuggets and gemstones—minor nudges of fortune ensured such discoveries were inevitable. He sold both the boar and the valuables in the market, securing a comfortable purse of coins.

The capital divided itself clearly.

The outer city housed merchants and commoners.

The inner districts—walled again—belonged to royalty, nobility, and most Magic Knight squads.

Even among commoners, there was a distinction. Those born and raised here wielded noticeably stronger magic than villagers from the borderlands. Shopkeepers used spells to arrange goods. Street performers manipulated elements for coin. Children levitated toys absentmindedly.

If any commoners passed the Magic Knight exam, they would likely be from here.

The exam was now a week away.

Rowan secured a modest room at an inn and spent the afternoon walking the streets, observing.

The city’s aesthetic reminded him faintly of other magic-centered worlds he had visited—stone towers, guild banners, arcane lamps—but here the integration of magic into daily life was even deeper.

After surveying markets and plazas, he located what he truly needed.

A bookstore.

If he wished to understand this world properly, its history and theory would be the best place to begin.

He stepped inside.