Is 'Travelling To Infinity' Based On A True Story?

I stumbled upon 'Travelling the Multiverses with Essences' a while back when I was deep into web novels, and it quickly became one of those hidden gems I couldn’t put down. If you’re looking for it online, I’d recommend checking out platforms like Royal Road or ScribbleHub—both are fantastic for indie stories with unique twists. The author’s style reminded me a bit of 'Mother of Learning,' blending intricate world-building with a protagonist who’s constantly evolving. Sometimes, smaller sites like Spacebattles or even certain Discord communities host serialized versions too. Just be prepared to dig a little—these stories don’always pop up on the first page of search results. I love how niche communities keep works like this alive; it feels like being part of a secret book club.

I stumbled upon 'Travelling the Multiverses with Essences' while browsing web novel platforms last month, and it quickly became one of my guilty pleasures. The premise—hopping between dimensions with unique magical cores—reminded me of a mashup between 'The Magician’s Brother' and 'The Legendary Mechanic,' but with a fresher twist. From what I’ve seen, it’s available for free on sites like Royal Road and ScribbleHub, though some chapters might be paywalled on Patreon for early access. The author’s pacing is addictive; one minute you’re in a cyberpunk dystopia, the next you’re solving alchemy puzzles in a fantasy realm. Word of caution: the grammar can be rough in earlier chapters, but the world-building more than compensates. If you’re into progression fantasy with a side of existential multiverse theory, this’ll hit the spot. I lost a whole weekend binge-reading it, and no regrets!

Ever stumbled into a story that feels like a rollercoaster through infinite possibilities? 'Travelling the Multiverses with Essences' is exactly that—a wild ride where the protagonist, armed with mystical 'essences' harvested from different dimensions, hops between worlds like a cosmic tourist. Each essence grants unique powers, from bending reality in one universe to communing with eldritch gods in another. The catch? The multiverse is collapsing, and only they can stitch it back together by balancing these essences. The beauty lies in how the worlds aren’t just backdrops; they’re characters themselves. One arc might be a cyberpunk dystopia where the essence of 'code' lets the MC hack into the fabric of existence, while another is a whimsical fairy tale realm where 'story' essence rewrites narratives mid-chapter. The stakes feel personal because the protagonist’s growth mirrors the multiverse’s fragility—every choice splinters into consequences across dimensions. It’s like 'Rick and Morty' meets 'The Sandman,' but with a heartwarming thread about finding home in chaos.

I stumbled upon 'Travelling the Multiverses with Essences' a while back while deep-diving into obscure web novels, and it instantly hooked me with its wild premise. The author goes by the pen name 'Void Herald,' a name that’s popped up in indie circles for their knack for blending sci-fi and fantasy tropes in unexpected ways. What’s cool about Void Herald is how they weave existential themes into fast-paced, almost pulpy adventures—like if 'Rick and Morty' had a baby with 'The Hitchhiker’s Guide.' Their other works, like 'The Perfect Run,' share that same trademark humor and multiverse chaos, but 'Travelling the Multiverses' feels like their love letter to classic RPG mechanics. It’s got this cheeky self-awareness, like the author’s winking at you while tossing in cosmic horror. Void Herald’s got a cult following for a reason—they’re the kind of writer who makes you laugh until you realize you’ve been pondering the nature of consciousness for 20 minutes.

Right after 'Infinity War', everything about Gamora and Nebula felt like it had been ripped apart — literally and emotionally. For me, that period was dominated by loss and silence: Gamora was gone, and Nebula was left with a new kind of freedom that tasted bitter because it was bought by so much pain. In the short term Nebula’s exterior hardened; she channeled her grief into anger at Thanos and a cold determination to survive. The sibling rivalry that had defined them shifted into a more solitary identity struggle for Nebula — she was no longer just the scapegoat in their twisted family, but someone who had to reckon with what Gamora’s absence meant for her own sense of self. Then 'Endgame' flipped things into this weird, messy opportunity. When the 2014 Gamora shows up, she’s a version of the sister Nebula thought she lost — unscarred by time and not yet forged by trauma. That created tension but also a chance for honest confrontation. The two versions of Gamora and Nebula clash, but that clash slowly becomes a rough, real conversation about choice, autonomy, and reconciliation. Nebula’s arc becomes less about competing for Thanos’ approval and more about laying down the weapons of her past. By the time of later moments, their relationship moves toward repair: guarded forgiveness, practical care, and a new understanding that family can be rebuilt even after betrayal. I love how their bond evolves from cold rivalry into something quietly fierce and protective; it feels earned and heartbreaking in equal measure.

You'd think counting them would be straightforward, but the fun twist is that the number depends on which version of the cosmos you're peeking into. At the simplest level both the films and the comics center around six iconic items, but the comics are a little more generous (and chaotic) about repetition, alternate sets, and weird alternate-universe duplicates. In the movies — the Marvel Cinematic Universe — there are six Infinity Stones: Space, Mind, Reality, Power, Time, and Soul. They show up as the Tesseract (Space), the Scepter/then-Vision (Mind), the Aether (Reality), the Orb (Power), the Eye of Agamotto (Time), and the sacrificial reveal on Vormir (Soul). Thanos’ whole arc in 'Avengers: Infinity War' and 'Avengers: Endgame' revolves around collecting those six and using the Gauntlet. Marvel simplified the lore for cinematic clarity: six stones, six cosmic powers, one big existential consequence when they’re combined. Comics-wise, the canonical number for a set is also six, but the story gets richer (and messier). In classic comic runs they’re called the Infinity Gems (or originally Soul Gems) and they cover the same conceptual domains: Mind, Power, Reality, Soul, Space, and Time. However, the comics added layers: every universe in the Marvel multiverse can have its own set, so there are technically many full sets across realities. You also get spin-off artifacts that behave similarly — Cosmic Cubes, the Heart of the Universe, and weird one-offs that either mirror a gem’s power or overwrite it. Major arcs like 'Infinity Gauntlet' and the 'Infinity Watch' center on one six-gem set, but later cosmic events show duplicates, exchanges, and even entities personifying the gems. So, bottom line from my fan perspective: both media canonically revolve around six stones per set, but the comics allow multiple sets across universes and throw in lots of cosmic extras. I love how the films boil it down into a clean, emotional quest while the comics keep handing you new corners of the multiverse to explore — it’s both satisfying and deliciously endless.

I still get a little teary thinking about how 'The Travelling Cat Chronicles' closes. The book is narrated by Nana, so the emotional weight lands through small, sensory memories: the smell of Satoru’s jacket, the cadence of his voice, the little routines they shared. Toward the end Satoru makes a quiet, practical choice — he visits people from his past to see who could care for Nana if something happens to him. That trip is less about logistics and more about goodbyes and remembering. Ultimately the story resolves in a bittersweet, gentle way: Satoru prepares for an ending he knows is coming, and Nana is left in the care of someone kind he met along the journey. The book doesn’t stage a melodramatic finale; instead it lets memory and ordinary gestures carry the closure. For me, the last pages felt like folding a favorite blanket: warm, worn, and full of every small thing that made it theirs.

When a rainy afternoon had me hiding in a tiny café with a battered paperback, I found out that the storyteller in 'The Travelling Cat Chronicles' isn’t a person at all but the cat himself — Nana. I still grin thinking about how the world is filtered through a feline voice: curious, a bit aloof, but achingly observant. Nana narrates in first person, reflecting on his relationship with Satoru, the man who rescues him, and the road trips they take to visit old friends in search of a new home. That perspective is what made the book hit me so hard. Hearing memories and emotions from a cat’s point of view turns ordinary human conversations into tender mysteries. Nana isn’t just describing events; he’s decoding the small habits and silences that reveal Satoru’s life. If you enjoy quiet, character-driven stories with a twist of animal wisdom, Nana’s voice is the heart of 'The Travelling Cat Chronicles' and it stuck with me long after I closed the book.