Something inside Mark snapped. It wasn't just sadness, or grief. It was an eruption of pure, unadulterated rage, an inferno that had simmered beneath years of emotional suppression and decades of scientific violation. The rage for his own torture, for his parents' unknown fate, and now, for the senseless, indifferent murder of the only family he had ever truly known.
He stood slowly, his body trembling, not from fear, but from the terrifying magnitude of the power awakening within him. His grey eyes, once vacant, began to glow with an intense, molten gold. A low, guttural growl vibrated in his chest, a sound that seemed to tear the very air.
The wealthy youths, sensing the shift, backed away nervously, their faces now contorted with genuine terror. "What the hell is he?" one whispered.
"Get away from them," Mark's voice, now a deep, resonant rumble, was barely recognizable.
As the youths fumbled for their own weapons, Mark extended a hand. A torrent of raw elemental power erupted. Flames, hotter and brighter than any natural fire, exploded from his palm, searing the air. The ground beneath the ground-car buckled, earth tearing itself apart. The river itself, usually so serene, rose in an impossible tidal wave, crashing over the bank, sweeping away the shattered remnants of the car and the terrified youths. The air shimmered, thick with oppressive heat and violent winds.
This was it. The Celestial Mode. A temporary 'god-state,' triggered not by controlled will, but by the absolute, crushing weight of despair and rage. Mark was no longer just Mark. He was a force of nature unbound.
He stalked towards the nearest city block, a towering silhouette wreathed in crackling energy. Buildings, once so imposing, crumbled under the weight of an unseen force. Windows imploded, streets liquefied into molten rock, and the very air became a maelstrom of fire and wind. The screams of fleeing civilians were drowned out by the roar of the elemental storm he commanded. He wasn't thinking, wasn't planning. He was simply unleashing. Every ounce of pain, every memory of the sterile lab, every flicker of love for Ren and Mara, was channeled into an overwhelming torrent of destruction.
The Vanguard Order's rapid response teams arrived, their armored vehicles screeching to a halt at the edge of the inferno. Their faces, usually composed, were etched with disbelief and terror. "What is this power?" a seasoned captain gasped, witnessing a city block being systematically annihilated.
In the center of the devastation, Mark stood, his form radiating an impossible light, his eyes burning with vengeful fire. The elegant city skyline, once a symbol of humanity's evolved future, was now a jagged, burning scar. The gentle 'Mark' was gone. In his place stood "The Immortal Demon," a harbinger of retribution, born from the ashes of innocence and fueled by the ultimate betrayal. His path of vengeance had begun, and the world would tremble before the rage of Project Genesis.