The Upper-Rim of the Ink-Bottle City was not a place for living beings; it was a sanctuary for "Concepts." Here, the gravity did not just pull at the body—it pulled at the meaning of one's existence. The air was so saturated with "High-Definition" particles that every breath felt like inhaling liquid diamonds. To a "Faded" being, this place was a furnace of purity.
Vane Varkas stood at the threshold of the Chromium Bastion, the high-security vault where the city stored its "Unstable Pigments." According to the Black Iron Directory, this wasn't just a warehouse for paint. it was a Prison of Bloodlines.
"Master, the pressure..." Lyra wheezed, her form flickering dangerously. Even with Vane's shadow-shroud protecting her, the Rank 20 "Aura of Sanity" emitted by the Bastion was trying to "Correct" her back into non-existence. "My resolution... it's dropping below 5%."
Vane reached out, his hand now a solid, obsidian-like claw. He grabbed Lyra's shoulder, forcing a surge of Indigo-Chaos into her system. "Hold onto your 'Dissonance', Lyra. In this place, being 'Broken' is our only armor. If you become 'Perfect', you become their property."
Vane looked at the Bastion. It was a tower of translucent crystal, and inside, swirling clouds of Red, Blue, and Yellow rotated in massive glass cylinders. But these weren't just colors. These were the Primary Sovereigns—the original entities from the first seven jars, captured eons ago and distilled into their base components.
[Ding!]
[Location: The Chromium Bastion (Upper-Rim).] [Security Level: Rank 25 (Exalted Artisan Grade).] [Detected: The 'Cinnabar Warden'.] [Warning: Your 'Stain of Reality' Rank 12 is insufficient for a direct confrontation.] [Strategy: Use the 'Directory' to trigger a 'System-Wide Smudge'.]
"I didn't come here to play by their Ranks," Vane whispered.
He stepped toward the main gate, a massive slab of "Hard-Light" etched with the laws of Perspective. As he approached, a figure materialized from the light. It was the Cinnabar Warden, a being whose body was a shifting mosaic of deep crimson glass. He held a "Executioner's Chisel" that hummed with the power to de-construct atoms.
"Subject #001," the Warden spoke, his voice the sound of blood hitting a hot plate. "You have traveled far from your jar. But the Upper-Rim is the limit of your 'Draft'. Here, the ink is dry. You cannot stain what is already finished."
"Is that what you tell the souls in those jars?" Vane asked, gesturing to the primary cylinders. "That they are 'Finished'? Or do you tell them the truth—that they are just 'Spare Parts' for a God who's too lazy to paint a new world?"
The Warden raised his chisel. "[Art-Physics: THE BLOOD-RED REDUCTION]!"
The world turned crimson. Vane felt his blood—his very "Internal Ink"—trying to leap out of his skin to join the Warden's aura. It was a conceptual command: All Red belongs to the Warden.
"Vane!" Mía cried out from the carriage. Her own "Static" aura flared, trying to push back the crimson tide, but she was still too weak.
Vane's eyes burned violet. He didn't fight the "Reduction." Instead, he Accelerated it.
"You want my Red?" Vane roared, his shroud exploding into a cloud of black mist. "Then take the Memory of the Slaughter!"
"[SOVEREIGN SKILL: THE BLEEDING CANVAS]!"
Vane reached into the Black Iron Directory and activated a hidden command. He didn't use his own power; he used the Recycled Agony of the Five Oceans stored within the book.
Suddenly, the crimson light of the Warden was "Polluted." The "Pure Red" was stained with the "Rusty Brown" of the trenches, the "Pale Pink" of fading lives, and the "Dark Clots" of the Abyssal Trench.
The Warden screamed, his glass body cracking. "No! This... this is 'Low-Quality' pigment! It's 'Noisy'! It's... it's Dirty!"
"Reality is dirty, Warden!" Vane lunged forward, his obsidian wing manifesting as a jagged blade.
SHATTER!
The blade pierced the Warden's chest. Vane didn't just stab him; he used his [Logic-Eater] skill to drain the Warden's Rank 25 "Permanence."
[Absorbing 'Exalted Crimson Essence'...] [Permanence: 12% -> 25%!] [Rank Up! Rank 12 -> Rank 18 (The Conceptual Error).]
The Warden dissolved into a pile of red glass shards. Vane stood over the remains, his body now glowing with a dark, metallic luster. He turned to the massive glass cylinders.
"Now," Vane said, his voice echoing through the Bastion. "Let's meet the 'Grandparents' of the Void."
The Awakening of the Primaries
Vane walked to the central console and slammed the Black Iron Directory onto the interface. The book's starlight pages flickered, and the "Soul-Lock" finally shattered under Vane's new Rank 18 pressure.
"Mía, now!" Vane commanded.
Mía stepped out of the carriage. She looked at the three cylinders—the Red, the Blue, the Yellow. She didn't use a brush. She simply placed her small, pale hands on the glass.
"Wake up," she whispered.
"[MÍA'S AWAKENING: THE STATIC RECALL]!"
A wave of "Grey-Neutrality" spread from Mía's fingertips. This was her true power—the ability to "Pause" the Art-Physics of the True Canvas. The swirling pigments inside the cylinders stopped their perpetual rotation. The "Distillation" process ceased.
From the Red cylinder, a tall, warrior-like woman emerged, her hair made of liquid fire. From the Blue, a scholar with eyes like frozen oceans. From the Yellow, a child whose laughter sounded like breaking sunlight.
These were the Primal Sovereigns of the first three Jars. The original experiments.
"Who... who has broken the seal?" the Blue Scholar asked, his voice ancient and weary.
"A brother and sister from the 'Trash Jar'," Vane said, his violet eyes meeting the Scholar's gaze. "We're leaving this bottle, and we're taking the 'Colors' with us."
The Red Warrior looked at Vane, her eyes narrowing. "You have the 'Void' of the Seventh Tier. You are the 'Error-Code' we were told would one day end the Gallery. But you are small. Your 'Permanence' is barely a fraction of an Artisan's."
"I am enough to kill a Warden," Vane said, pointing his wing toward the pile of red glass. "And I am enough to burn the 'Great Portrait' to the ground. Will you fight, or will you wait to be 'Diluted' into a background wash?"
The three Primaries looked at each other. They had been trapped for eons, used as a "Supply" for a world that hated them.
"The Blue remembers the First Stroke," the Scholar said. "And the Blue is tired of being 'Calculated'."
"The Red remembers the first death," the Warrior added, her fists igniting with a heat that threatened to melt the crystal walls. "And the Red wants Vengeance."
The Yellow child simply smiled, but the light coming from him began to "De-Saturate" the entire room. "The Yellow wants to see the Real Sun."
The Siege of the Ink-Bottle (The Finale of Volume 2)
The awakening of the Primaries triggered the "Final Alarm" of the Ink-Bottle City.
The glass walls of the mountain began to turn a deep, warning black. From the "Neck" of the bottle, thousands of Ceramic Knights and Art-Inquisitors descended, led by the High Artisan Kaelos—a Rank 30 entity who was the master of the city.
"Subject #001!" Kaelos's voice boomed from the sky, sounding like the clap of a thousand brushes hitting a canvas. "You have committed the Ultimate Sin! You have 'Un-Defined' the Primary Colors! For this, the entire 'Five Oceans' lineage will be Scrubbed from History!"
Vane stood on the balcony of the Chromium Bastion, the three Primaries standing behind him like pillars of ancient power. Mía stood by his side, her "Static" aura now forming a protective "Frame" around them.
"You can't scrub the truth, Kaelos!" Vane shouted back, his voice amplified by the Indigo-Chaos. "We aren't your 'Pigments' anymore! We are the Canvas-Breakers!"
"[VOLUME 2 FINAL SKILL: THE RAINBOW OF REBELLION]!"
Vane didn't fight alone this time. He combined his "Void" with the "Primary Essences."
He channeled the Red Warrior's fury, the Blue Scholar's logic, and the Yellow Child's radiance into his own body. His matte-black shroud was now shot through with veins of burning crimson, deep indigo, and blinding gold.
He didn't just attack the guards; he attacked the Vortex in the center of the city.
"If the Ink is the life-blood of your world," Vane roared, "then I'll make sure it's Incompatible!"
He dived from the Bastion, his massive wings creating a vacuum of "Non-Existence." He slammed into the central Vortex, plunging his hand into the "Original Ink" of the universe.
"[PIGMENT DRAIN: THE BLACK-OUT]!"
Vane began to "Saturate" the city's entire ink supply with his own "Abyssal Void."
Every pipe in the city began to hiss and spray black smoke. The vibrant colors of the Middle-Rim turned to a dull, sickly grey. The "High-Definition" Residents began to "Blur" as their source of permanence was corrupted.
The Ink-Bottle City was dying.
"Stop him! The Bottle is cracking!" Kaelos screamed, his own gold-leaf skin beginning to flake off.
But it was too late.
The "Static Frame" Mía had created around the city began to shrink, compressing the "Art-Physics" until the glass walls couldn't handle the pressure.
CRACK!
A single fracture appeared at the top of the bottle. Then another. And another.
"Vane! The bottle is going to explode!" Lyra shouted, grabbing Mía.
"I know!" Vane laughed, his eyes glowing with a madness that was both terrifying and beautiful. "WE'RE GOING TO RIDE THE SPILL!"
With a sound that could be heard across the entire Sketchlands, the Ink-Bottle City—the pride of the Third Tier—shattered.
A massive tidal wave of black, indigo, and primary-colored ink erupted from the mountain, carrying Vane, his companions, and the three Primaries down the cliffside. It wasn't a fall; it was a Flood.
They weren't just escaping a city; they were Drowning the Sketchlands in the stolen power of the Artisans.
Epilogue: The Grey Horizon
Vane Varkas stood on a hill of "Wet Paint" miles away from the ruins of the Ink-Bottle City.
The city was gone, replaced by a massive, smoking "Stain" on the horizon. Thousands of Jar-Breakers and Scrappers were emerging from the wreckage, their bodies now "Solidified" by the overflow of primary pigments.
Vane looked at his hands. He was Rank 22 now. His "Permanence" was at 40%. He was no longer a "Smudge." He was a Calamity.
He looked at the three Primaries, who were standing among the refugees, helping them "Define" their new lives.
He looked at Mía, who was sleeping peacefully in Lyra's arms, her "Static" aura now a soft, protective glow.
"Master," Lyra whispered. "We destroyed the city. But the 'Seven True Architects'... they'll send the 'Grand Inquisitors' now. We've started a war we can't win."
Vane looked up at the stars—the "True Canvas" that still stretched infinitely above them.
"We didn't start a war, Lyra," Vane said, his voice as cold and heavy as the obsidian in his chest. "We started a 'Revolution'. And tell them... the next time I see a 'Masterpiece'... I'm bringing the 'Eraser'."
[Volume 2: THE PRISMATIC ORIGIN - COMPLETED.] [Current Rank: 22 (The World-Stain).] [Next Objective: The Fourth Tier - The Polished Canvas.] [Legend Status: The King of the Spilled Ink.]