The elemental storm that ravaged the outskirts of the city became an indelible scar on the collective consciousness. Satellite feeds, once crystal clear, showed only a churning vortex of fire, wind, and seismic tremors. When the dust finally settled, revealing a landscape of twisted metal, vaporized asphalt, and buildings reduced to smoking rubble, a new legend was born: "The Immortal Demon." The media, a ravenous beast hungry for sensationalism, painted him as a rogue Awakened, a terrorist of unprecedented power, a threat to the global order the Vanguard so diligently maintained.
Mark, however, was deaf to the cacophony of fear and condemnation. He moved with a brutal, single-minded focus. His rage, a cold, burning ember in his core, guided him. He stalked the shadows of the urban sprawl, an avenging ghost in a world that had betrayed him. The names whispered in his mind – Dr. Voss, Elias Crowe, the nameless technicians, the system that enabled them – were etched there like commandments of vengeance.
His powers, now fully awakened, were terrifyingly potent. He could move through a city block like a phantom, dissolving into shadow and reforming moments later. He could conjure walls of flame that incinerated everything in their path, or summon torrents of water that swept away entire structures. Earth obeyed his silent command, rising in jagged spikes or collapsing into chasms. Light and shadow became extensions of his will, blinding enemies or cloaking his movements in impenetrable darkness. His Divine Regeneration meant that every bullet, every energy blast, every attempted restraint, simply passed through him or healed instantly, leaving no mark. He was unstoppable, a force of retribution.
His targets were carefully chosen, gleaned from fragments of memory and whispered information he extracted with ruthless efficiency. Former Project Genesis technicians, low-level Vanguard officials involved in his transport, anyone connected to the facility that had been his prison. He didn't kill indiscriminately. Each strike was precise, terrifyingly effective, designed to dismantle the very infrastructure that had created him. He left behind a trail of fear, shattered infrastructure, and whispers of a pale, silent figure whose eyes burned with an unholy light.
The Vanguard Order, initially dismissive, quickly escalated their response. Their elite Awakened teams, formidable in their own right, found themselves outmatched, outmaneuvered, and overwhelmed. Their elemental wielders were nullified, their psychics overwhelmed, their healers instantly crippled. No conventional weapon, no known power, seemed to affect the Immortal Demon. The public panic intensified, fueled by nightly news reports filled with footage of devastated cityscapes and the desperate, futile efforts of the Vanguard. Elias Crowe, the public face of global order, appeared on every major network, his voice somber, his eyes hardened with resolve. "This entity," he declared, "is an unprecedented threat. We will find him. We will neutralize him. For the safety of all humanity." Privately, a cold dread coiled in his gut. The 'failure' had become a nightmare.