Chapter 709

In the Marvel universe setting, there is one crucial point: the universes within the multiverse are infinite—so what exactly constitutes these infinite universes?

In the comics, an answer was once given: a single thought by a person at a specific moment creates a new universe, and in the real world, there is a similar concept of parallel universes.

For example, the TV shows, movies, and literary works we see today are in fact parallel universes—they are born from human thoughts and can be observed by us due to certain special rules.

Marvel's editors clearly drew inspiration from this theory, thus designing the Marvel universe structure as an infinite universe.

This setting has an extremely high ceiling—for instance, the much-loved "What If?" universes are also a form of infinite universe.

At a certain moment, a single possible change gives rise to a new universe, triggering an entirely new story—this gives Marvel's editors an endless supply of stories to illustrate.

When reading the comics, Shiler had noticed this point, but like people in the real world, whenever the idea that films might be parallel universes was mentioned, he merely smiled and dismissed it—while it sounded beautiful in imagination, in reality it seemed like nonsense.

Facing the reboot of a single universe, as everything reversed, Shiler witnessed firsthand the truth of the infinite universe—ears deceive, eyes do not lie; realizing that the infinite universe is composed of infinite possibilities, Shiler understood this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Every thought, every idea, every dream is a universe—and what Shiler lacked least was dreams.

Within the boundless rooms of the Mind Palace, each room represented a dream; all personality traits were born from specific experiences and particular dreams.

If every dream is a universe, does that mean every room in his Mind Tower is a real universe within the Marvel world?

Thinking of this, Shiler began to re-explore his Mind Palace.

Since he had already searched this place many times in DC, he was certain: ascending the Mind Palace meant accessing the conscious mind, descending meant accessing the subconscious; there were no other pathways to the real world, and the only body he could control was this single universe.

So how could he explore these universes within his mind? And how could he extract the personalities from these universes and allow them to freely traverse the multiverse?

Shiler suddenly recalled that when he first obtained the Boat of the Underworld, he had once speculated: could this great vessel, arriving from dreams, also carry dreams into reality?

Shiler had always used the Boat of the Underworld to travel through dreams—from his own, to Professor X's, to Stark's—yet the boat had always been moored beside the Mind Tower, never entering any room within the Mind Palace.

"Inside" here does not refer to the central open space of the tower, but to each individual room within the Mind Palace.

The Boat of the Underworld had never truly entered any room, so Shiler did not know whether, upon entering a room—his dream—it could carry the personality within to unknown places beyond.

Thinking of this, Shiler lay back on his bed, closed his eyes, and sank his thoughts into the Mind Palace; when he reappeared in the central open space, the great pit remained exactly as before, its depths black and endless.

The tower's entrance was grand, and rowing in was easy—but boats cannot climb stairs, and the rooms in the Mind Palace had no doors large enough for a boat to enter; to realize his hypothesis, he needed a special method, and he knew exactly who to ask.

"You want me to build a new freight elevator to lift the boat up?" asked the Self, dressed in a black turtleneck, working as he spoke.

"Exactly. Don't you think this tower lacks a freight elevator? The original small elevator works fine, but transporting large objects is difficult, isn't it?" asked Shiler, dressed in a white lab coat.

The Self thought for a moment and said: "That does make sense—but you plan to sail the boat into the rooms? The rooms don't have corridors or doors large enough for that."

Shiler thought for a moment, then said: "If we can't widen the corridors or doors, perhaps we can shrink the boat."

As the white-coated Shiler spoke, he stepped out of the office and saw, just two levels below, construction had already begun—the new freight elevator was being built. At that moment, Shiler thought of a perfect way to shrink the Boat of the Underworld.

"Shrink at once!"

A spell rang out; the wand traced a graceful arc, a stream of light struck the Boat of the Underworld, and the Potions Professor Shiler, clad in Slytherin robes, sheathed his wand.

As the light gradually covered the entire boat, its hull slowly shrank to roughly one-tenth its original size—now small enough to pass easily through any room's door.

The Potions Professor Shiler turned to the white-coated Shiler and said: "You truly intend to explore the boundaries of the rooms? Then why not start with my room?"

"You seem curious."

"Magic begins with curiosity."

After the freight elevator was completed, Shiler reversed the Boat of the Underworld into the garage and moved it onto the elevator platform; as the elevator rumbled to life, the shrunken boat came to rest on the corridor.

Then, standing at the bow, Shiler adjusted the position until the boat's prow faced the room's entrance; the Potions Professor Shiler stepped inside first, then the white-coated Shiler rowed in—once the door closed, only the symbol of the Deathly Hallows on the handle glowed faintly.

Normally, anyone entering this room would appear on the small boat leading to Hogwarts—but since Shiler himself had rowed in, he appeared directly on the shore of the Black Lake.

Looking at the majestic castle, Shiler asked: "Have you ever left this castle?"

"Of course—I often go to Diagon Alley to shop, sometimes to Hogsmeade for a drink, and I once visited the Ministry of Magic—but I dislike dealing with those people," said the Potions Professor Shiler, shaking his head.

"No—I mean, without Floo Powder, without using fireplaces—just rowing along the Black Lake outward. What lies beyond?"

"The room's walls. Do you really need to ask me that?" replied the Potions Professor calmly. "Imagination has limits. We are products of one person's dream; every detail comes from memory—where memory is vague, nothing exists."

"Has this novel ever mentioned Hogwarts' exact geographical location? Or even if it did, if we lack concrete knowledge of its terrain, then beyond is simply blank."

"Moreover, the larger and more detailed the dream, the more storage space it consumes. To prevent overload, room walls exist where content cannot be loaded. We are dreamers, yet conscious—so there's no need to test where the room walls lie."

After the Potions Professor finished, the white-coated Shiler nodded; they were the same person. Though their memories were temporarily separate, if they checked the memory archive, they would find identical content.

The rooms in the Mind Palace were equivalent to worlds Shiler had imagined—but imagination still required reality as a foundation; things unknown in reality rarely appeared in dreams.

A person who scores only 60 in math cannot dream of complex mathematical formulas; someone with no interest in history cannot dream of specific historical figures.

Moreover, the more detailed and expansive the dream, the more brain capacity it consumes; a tower over three hundred stories tall, filled with countless dreams—if each were infinitely large, Shiler's brain could never store them.

Thus, the world within each room was merely a tiny region; beyond cognition and limits lay the room's walls.

It was somewhat like The Truman Show—everything here was built by Shiler's imagination, and beyond it, only the walls restricting the dream existed.

But today, Shiler intended to row to the room's wall and see—if he could find a window to slip through.

The Potions Professor Shiler cast an enlargement charm on the Boat of the Underworld; Shiler rowed, carrying him, along the Black Lake toward the horizon.

As they neared the boundary, the water grew calmer, its ripples fading; trees and shrubs became increasingly sparse.

When they reached shore, it was a barren grassland—no layered rocks, no varied vegetation, only plain, ordinary grass.

Further ahead, an invisible wall blocked the two Shilers' path; beyond it stretched endless grass—the edge of the entire room.

Walking the entire perimeter, Shiler found no windows. If a dream is a single universe, then the room's walls are the universe's outer boundary.

That is, to break through the barrier of a single universe, one must ascend.

Earlier, Stark had ascended beyond the single universe through intellect and magic; Loki, through his political-correctness aura, had glimpsed the view beyond the universe. To escape this dream's single universe, the same methods could be used.

But both methods required difficult conditions and considerable time. If Shiler were to ascend himself, he would never choose such a route—he preferred to simply punch a hole.

Shiler believed a simple truth: any program can be exploited with a bug; any wall can be punched through.

Whether it was the wall of a house in reality or the barrier of a single universe—it made no difference.

Speaking of punching holes, Shiler remembered: right now, in the central open space of the Mind Palace, there was still a great hole—the one Hugo had dug, leading to the subconscious.

Shiler knew exactly how reinforced the floor of the Mind Palace had become—he himself could not punch a hole into it, and had to rely on external force. Could the room's walls possibly be harder than his repeatedly reinforced floor?

Of course, the Marvel universe had no Hugo; even if it did, Shiler had no intention of going through such a long detour to ask him for help drilling a hole in the wall—because the Marvel universe had a far better tool: Professor X.

Hugo relied on technique and tools, but Professor X was pure brute force. Even ordinary Hugo had managed, with cleverness, to punch a hole in Shiler's reinforced Mind Palace floor—so surely such a powerful Professor X could add a window to the room's walls?

Soon, Professor Charles appeared beside the wall at the edge of the Hogwarts room. He studied the air wall, then asked: "You're sure you want me to make a hole in this?"

Charles shook his head. "Shiler, if anyone else asked this, I'd think they were suicidal. Human thought is fragile."

"If the dream world is damaged, certain imagery might escape into normal thought, possibly causing delusions—or symptoms of schizophrenia. You should know this better than I do…"

"But since it's you asking, I'll give it a try."

Saying this, Charles closed his eyes, focused his mind, and extended one hand; an invisible force erupted from his palm.

A faint cutting sound came from nearby, yet there was no sign of shattering.

Where the air wall had been, a ripple appeared; after a long moment, Charles exhaled, wiped sweat from his brow, and said: "You built this room to be incredibly sturdy—but now, I've punched a hole there, and even added a window…"

"If you want to leave, open the window. Once you're out, it will close automatically, preventing other things from escaping…"

Shiler applauded with admiration; Charles smiled modestly.

A few minutes later, standing in the central open space of the Mind Palace, Shiler raised one hand toward the ceiling; Charles looked up, then heard Shiler say:

"Then please, put a window in every single room."

Charles widened his eyes, staring at Shiler. "That would completely scramble your mind. Are you insane?!"

"I'm not insane…" Shiler grinned—a wild, almost mocking smile, as if imitating someone. "The ones who casually reboot universes are the ones who are insane."

Only someone who casually restarts the universe is mad.