The silver-grey Titan spaceship silently glided through the dimensional rift, like a pebble dropped into calm water, yet it stirred up a storm in Mark's heart.
Leaving his familiar Universe 9 and stepping into this passage leading to the unknown chaos of Universe 1, each step felt incredibly heavy.
He not only bore the survival of his own universe but now also shouldered the heavy responsibility of unraveling the temporal mess and finding another version of himself.
Around the passage were bizarre, indescribable sights, with distorted colors and shattered fragments of time and space rushing past like a kaleidoscope.
The Titan Clan avatars, like cold sculptures, silently controlled the spaceship, avoiding the clearly unstable temporal turbulence.
"The temporal structure of Universe 1 is fluctuating violently."
A Titan Clan avatar spoke without warning, its voice resonating directly in Mark's mind, breaking the dead silence in the cabin.
"Anchor points are extremely chaotic; we cannot precisely pinpoint the present. We can only project you to a relatively stable, but potentially past or future, time node."
"You need to find clues yourself, ascertain the source of the timeline alteration, and act cautiously to avoid causing a greater temporal paradox."
Mark nodded silently.
His understanding of temporal laws was superficial, and he knew their danger and Weird.
At this moment, he was more like a sailor thrown into a raging storm, able to rely only on his own strength and intuition.
The moment the Titan spaceship tore through the dimensional barrier and hurled Mark into Universe 1, a strong, nauseating sense of incongruity washed over him.
It wasn't a physical discomfort, but a deeper, cosmic-rule-level distortion and oppression.
The tampering with the timeline had not merely altered the course of events; it was as if it had poisoned the very possibility of the entire world from its roots.
Before the spaceship could even fully stabilize, the halos around the two Titan Clan avatars flickered violently, emitting urgent warnings.
"High-concentration information pollution... Abnormal native timeline rejection reaction... The fundamental existence of Mark Grayson in this plane has been significantly rewritten..."
The Titan's voice remained cold, but its speaking speed noticeably increased.
"Continued Detention will greatly increase the risk of exposure and interfere with the core mission. We will switch to stealth mode and track the original life signal of this universe's Mark."
"You, act independently, make cautious contact, and gather intelligence."
Before its words finished, the shuttle-shaped spaceship, like a drop of ink dissolving in water, quickly became transparent, illusory, and finally vanished completely before Mark's eyes, leaving only a faint spatial ripple.
Mark hovered at a low altitude, forcing himself to quickly adapt to this altered world.
The first thing he noticed was the sky, which was not a natural azure but a depressing hue with industrial haze.
The air was filled with a faint smell of exhaust fumes and an invisible anxiety.
His location seemed to be the edge of a massive city, with towering buildings and holographic billboards flashing extravagant and suggestive images, advertising various brands and... superheroes?
The figures on the billboards, dressed in elaborate costumes and striking artificial poses, gave Mark an extremely false and uncomfortable feeling.
Before he could observe in detail, several swift figures approached from different directions with whooshing sounds, lazily landing on rooftops or in the air around him, subtly encircling him.
There were five arrivals in total, three men and two women.
They all wore exaggerated, brightly colored tight-fitting uniforms that perfectly outlined their enhanced physiques.
But their faces showed not vigilance or a sense of responsibility, but a mix of curiosity, flippancy, and condescending scrutiny, like a group of wealthy scions discovering a new toy.
"Whoa, look who it is?"
A man with a mohawk haircut, wearing a leather jacket with metal studs, whistled, his eyes scanning Mark's unusually powerful physique with ill intent.
"Newcomer, how many steroids did it take to get those muscles? Quite a unique style, retro?"
Another woman with a hot figure, dressed in what looked like a glittering catsuit, licked her lips, her eyes flashing with a dangerous light.
"Looks pretty solid... Wonder if he's durable. I'm a bit bored lately."
Mark remained silent, his molten-gold pupils calmly sweeping over them.
He was nearly two meters tall, his muscles like granite forged a thousand times, bulging with explosive power.
Just by standing there, an absolute pressure emanating from his very life essence naturally diffused, causing the previously laughing and relaxed super-powered individuals to subconsciously suppress their smiles, feeling an inexplicable palpitation and oppression.
"Who are you?"
Mark's voice was deep and magnetic, yet carried an undeniable sense of power.
"Huh? You don't even know our Radiant Star Squad?"
The mohawked man sounded as if he'd heard a joke.
"We are the guardians of this city! Vought Company's signature heroes! Where are you from, the countryside?"
Vought Company? Heroes?
Mark caught these unfamiliar terms.
He tried to inquire.
"Have you heard of the Great Old Ones, or... a Viltrumite named Mark Grayson?"
The five exchanged glances, their faces showing genuine confusion and mockery.
"Old Ones what? Sounds like some third-rate horror movie?"
"Viltrum? Is that a new drug name?"
"Mark Grayson? Never heard of him. What, is that your name?"
"It's a good name, but unfortunately, it's about to become unpleasant."
A man wearing an exaggerated eye mask, with electric arcs dancing between his fingers, grinned savagely.
Mark's heart sank.
They didn't know... they knew nothing!
Not only was Universe 1's Mark not present in this world, but even the most basic understanding of cosmic threats had been completely distorted or erased!
Just then, a commotion and screams erupted from the street below.
A super-powered individual, dressed in a silver uniform and calling himself Quicksilver, was madly running and playing at super-speed on the street. Wherever he went, strong winds blew pedestrians off their feet, stalls were overturned, and goods scattered everywhere.
He even deliberately swept past a mother, snatching the baby bottle from her stroller, and laughed maliciously at her terrified and desperate expression!
And the other passersby, though their faces showed fear and anger, mostly dared not speak out, some even subconsciously pulling out their phones to record, as if they were long accustomed to this.
"Hahaha, Quicksilver, that kid, he's really playing hard!"
The mohawked man in the air not only didn't stop him but watched with relish.
The catsuit woman even giggled.
"Record it, record it! This angle is good. Post it on the Hero Hub APP tonight, it'll definitely get a lot of followers!"
Mark watched this scene, and a cold rage began to brew in his heart.
These were not heroes at all!
These were thugs with power, clad in flashy exteriors!
And the people of this world seemed to have become numb and submissive under long-term deception and oppression.
He suppressed the urge to act immediately and tried to communicate again.
"Is this how you treat the people you are supposed to protect?"
"Your power is not for bullying the weak."
"Weak?"
The catsuit woman sounded as if she'd heard the funniest joke.
"They are weak! It's their honor to be protected by us!"
"What's wrong with playing a little sometimes? It's not like we'll really kill them... uh, usually not."
Another super-powered individual, as burly as a bear, who had been silent until now, roared impatiently.
"Why waste words with him? This guy looks off. Let's take him back for the company to study. Maybe they can extract a stronger new generation compound!"
Before he finished speaking, he suddenly threw a punch at Mark from a distance, and a visible shockwave tore through the air, creating a sonic boom.
Mark didn't even move, only narrowed his eyes slightly.
Bang!
The shockwave hit his chest squarely, but couldn't even make him budge, not even damaging a single fiber of his clothes, like a gentle breeze stroking a mountain rock.
The burly man's savage grin instantly froze.
The other four also showed expressions of shock.
"How is that possible! Brute Bear's shockwave can overturn a tank!"
"A mosquito bite would feel more than this."
Mark slowly spoke, his voice as cold as a Siberian wind.
"Is that all you've got?"
"You're asking for death!"
The mohawked man roared in anger, clasping his hands together, and a scorching high-temperature ray shot towards Mark.
Almost simultaneously, the electric man unleashed a furious chain of lightning, the catsuit woman shot some kind of psychic shockwave from her eyes, and another woman threw countless energy darts from her hands.
Various attacks instantly engulfed Mark; the fire of explosions, flashing electric arcs, and distorted psychic fields completely covered his location!
"Did we get him?"
"He must be ashes! No one can withstand our combined..."
The smoke and dust slowly dissipated.
Mark still hovered in place, without even changing his posture.
He stretched out his hand and lightly patted his shoulder, as if dusting off non-existent dust.
"Finished?"
He raised his eyes, and in his molten-gold pupils, the last shred of patience had completely vanished, leaving only cold indifference, as if looking at ants.
"Then... it's my turn."
The expressions on the five faces changed from shock to utter terror!
The next moment, Mark moved.
No afterimage, no sonic boom.
He simply took a step forward.
With that single step, he seemed to instantly traverse space, appearing before the mohawked man who had unleashed the high-temperature ray.
The latter didn't even have time to react, only seeing an ever-enlarging fist, imbued with endless power.
Pfft!
The man's head, along with most of his upper body, instantly vanished, like a watermelon hit head-on by a high-speed battleship, splattering red and white everywhere.
Immediately after, Mark grabbed backhand, precisely seizing the arm of the electric man who was attempting to release lightning again, and gently squeezed!
Crack—Pfft!
The arm, along with its internal bones, nerves, and energy conduits, was crushed into a mixture of flesh pulp and metal fragments. The electric man let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Mark casually threw him like trash towards the burly Brute Bear.
Thump!!
The two collided like bowling pins; Brute Bear's reinforced chest armor, said to be missile-proof, instantly caved in, his ribs shattered, and internal organs ruptured.
Both simultaneously turned into a twisted mass of flesh, smashing into the building below, causing screams and an explosion!
The catsuit woman, who had been trying to unleash a psychic attack, and the dart-throwing woman, were scared out of their wits and turned to flee.
Mark didn't even look at them, simply waved his hand casually in the direction they were fleeing.
Bang! Bang!
Two muffled explosions rang out in the air; the two women, as if bombs had been stuffed inside them, instantly exploded into two clouds of blood mist, unable to even scream.
In a breath, the Radiant Star Squad, who had been arrogant and overbearing moments ago, was completely annihilated, leaving no intact bodies!
On the street, there was a deathly silence.
All the passersby stared dumbfounded at the demon-god-like figure in the sky, watching the pervasive blood mist and shattered flesh fall like rain.
Their faces were filled with extreme fear, bewilderment, and a hint of... long-suppressed, unbelievable satisfaction.
Mark slowly descended to the center of the street.
He looked around at the trembling, complex-eyed populace, trying to explain.
"These people abused their power, oppressed you, and are not worthy of being called heroes..."
However, what responded to him was not gratitude and understanding, but greater fear and rejection.
"He... he killed a hero!"
"Monster! He's a monster!"
"Call the police! Notify Vought Company!"
"He's going to kill us all!"
"But... he killed those bastards..."
Someone whispered, immediately silenced by the more fearful gazes of those around them.
Long-term brainwashing and rule by fear had already caused these people to lose their will to resist, even mistaking liberation for a greater disaster.
They were accustomed to surviving under lies and oppression; any force that disrupted the balance would leave them helpless and panicked.
Mark looked at those numb, fearful, and even resentful faces, and for the first time, a deep sense of powerlessness and disgust welled up within him.
This civilization was rotten to its core.
So-called freedom was merely a fig leaf for indulging villains; so-called order was merely an excuse for the strong to endlessly exploit the weak.
The populace was raised, brainwashed, willing to be lambs, even maintaining the slaughterhouse.
An unprecedented, cold desire for destruction quietly began to grow in his heart.
Did such a world still need to exist?
Destroy it... destroy all this hypocrisy and ugliness... let everything return to nothingness...
This thought coiled around his mind like a venomous snake.
But he finally took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing this terrifying thought.
He was not a Great Old Ones; he could not become a demon god bringing destruction. His goal was to find Universe 1's Mark and correct the timeline, not to judge an entire civilization.
However, looking at this distorted and deranged world, he knew that a peaceful investigation was no longer possible.
His actions just now must have alerted the controllers behind this world, that Vought Company, and possibly deeper hidden forces.
The storm had been stirred up by his own hand.
He no longer looked at the terrified populace, turning instead to gaze at the tallest and most magnificent building in the city center, bearing a huge 'V' logo.
It seemed that to get clues, he could only use the most direct method.
He took a step, walking towards the center of power, step by step.
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