During Marco and One's faceoff, far beyond the visible edges of Malcolm's territory, in a dark, silent, and long-abandoned region of the wasteland, something stirred.
The land there was different.
The air was heavier, pollution thicker, ground fractured into deep ravines where black mist coiled endlessly like living breath.
For years, nothing significant had disturbed that region.
Until now.
A colossal eye slowly opened.
The sound was not loud, but the earth trembled faintly as layers of hardened, ink-saturated flesh shifted apart.
The eye was vast and Ancient, it's gaze like something not belonging to this era. It screamed of profound wisdom. Its pupil vertical, contracting slightly as it focused.
It turned in the direction of Malcolm's Sanctuary.
It had felt it.
A shift.
Not the crude eruption of pollution, nor the mindless detonation of abomination energy.
This was different.
Inkforce directed, compressed and commanded.
The eye remained still, unblinking, analyzing the lingering trace of that distant disturbance.
It was intrigued.
From the time it had existed in this mutated form, and observed the beings and inkforce energy pollution here, it already knew how unstable and chaotic it was.
It's a very high form of energy from a totally different dimension. How could the mere motal humans here even conceive the idea to temper with such energy. Even he, as strong and wise as he is, dares not to have too much contact with it, to prevent corruption. He was confused and terrified when he noticed how some these pitifully weak morals managed to survive under the corruption of such profound energy, thereby awakening terrifying powers with infinite potential. Some became even more stronger, terrifying and godly than he is. So, under such continuous big and small shocking discoveries, he thought he's seen it all, with nothing being able to surprise him anymore. But, the idea that someone on this universe, could harness a higher level energy like inkforce, something even he, a being that had evolved beyond mindless mutation, is frightened by, and doesn't dare to touch greatly impacts him on a psychological level. He almost begins to doubt his life itself, before snapping from it. He looked at the vast expanse of wastelands with a tense expression.
It has ruled this territory, shaped this domain. But even he is slightly just a more bigger ant against the true powerhouses among abominations, so he doesn't dare to expand more.
So, to manipulate inkforce itself?
That bordered on impossibility.
And yet…
It had felt something bending it.
That realization did not frighten it, it just felt a little curious but inwardly wary.
Because it meant there was something or someone outside it's Territory, or near enough to affect it, that did not follow the common system of this ruined world.
The massive eye narrowed slightly.
But he didn't give it too much thought either. If one day the sky falls, there'll always be someone to hold it up. It's not yet his turn to start worrying about such an anomaly. Since it didn't affect it in anyway, then it's not yet it's problem. So, Until then
It would observe.
It was not the only being that noticed the shift.
Across scattered regions of the wasteland, in ruined cities swallowed by black vines and in caverns where mutated creatures, abominations and mutants nested, other presences stirred.
Some felt curiosity.
Some felt fear.
Some felt greed.
The disturbance had been brief.
But it was sovereign in nature.
And sovereign power never goes unnoticed.
Far from the wasteland's open destruction, within a massive enclosed structure carved from polished black obsidian, another reaction unfolded. Inside this massive castle like obsidian structure stood a towering hall.
The hall was immense.
Its walls were formed from towering slabs of dark crystal stones, their surfaces smooth yet veined with faint glowing lines of violet light. The obsidian was not merely for decoration, it emitted a soft, steady glow, casting the entire castle like chamber in a dim, ethereal radiance.
The air was inside it was cool. Still.
Almost sacred.
At the far end of the hall stood a throne, massive, carved from a single piece of dark mineral, its surface etched with intricate rune formations. Just looking at the rune like formations, and the thick amount of pure and concentrated inkforce contained inside of the throne, you can tell it was an Armament. An a very high level one at that.
Seated upon it was a woman.
Her face was hidden beneath a long, dark cloak that fell past her shoulders like liquid shadow.
Only her eyes were faintly visible.
They were Sharp, beautiful like a pair of glowing blue sapphires. Deep like the ocean and Unreadable like flowing ocean waves.
With the stillness and eerie feeling released from the hall, you could tell that she, or the being seated on the throne, had not moved for a long time.
Until now.
A subtle ripple passed through the air, too faint for ordinary beings to perceive.
Her fingers tightened slightly on the armrest.
She felt it.
A shift in inkforce.
Not chaotic, nor explosive but compressed and structured.
Her eyes sharpened.
She rose slowly from the throne.
The cloak parted as she stood, revealing a complete set of black and deep-purple armor fitted seamlessly around her form. Embedded across the armor were dark crystalline stones that pulsed faintly with contained energy.
As she straightened, rune-like structures etched along the armor's surface began to glow softly.
The runes were not decorative, but functional.
They siphoned power from the embedded stones, circulating it through the armor in slow, controlled currents.
Her presence, and the pressure she released alone altered the atmosphere of the hall.
She turned her gaze eastward.
Toward the distant source of the disturbance.
For the first time since the beginning of the Pollution…
She felt something stir within her.
Not fear, anger nor excitement. But something more subtle.
More unfamiliar.
A genuine trace of emotion.
Curiosity?
Concern?
Recognition?
Even she did not know.
The runes dimmed slightly as she stabilized her breathing.
The feeling passed — but not completely.
She remained standing, eyes fixed in that direction.
Silent.
Back at the Sanctuary,
Malcolm's attention shifted.
For a brief moment, he removed his gaze from the Armament helmet he had been studying so intently.
His Omniperception expanded outward.
Heat signatures bloomed across his awareness, the wasteland mapped itself through thermal currents and residual energy patterns.
He felt Marco's massive heat release, the sudden gathering and compression of ink energy into fighting force.
The pressure, density and unnatural cohesion it released.
His brow tightened slightly.
That level of compression was abnormal.
He focused deeper.
Beyond the heat and visible disturbance.
Searching for another presence, maybe hidden.
Something manipulating the event.
His perception stretched across the horizon, brushing ruined structures, abandoned highways, dormant abominations, and shifting pollution clouds.
But nothing.
No secondary heat anomaly, hidden sovereign signature, nor large-scale movement.
He narrowed his search further.
Still nothing.
And that deepened his uneasiness.
He was certain something was off.
The inkforce did not gather like that naturally.
Someone or something had influenced it, but he could not trace it.
After another thorough examination, he slowly withdrew his perception.
His expression hardened slightly.
For a moment, he considered summoning one of his generals to investigate.
But he dismissed the thought.
It was too soon.
Too early to escalate.
Making an enemy of that half machine over such a minor disturbance would be very irresponsible.
Even if he was ninety-nine percent certain he could win,
That remaining one percent demanded cautious.
Caution had kept him alive this long.
He would not abandon it for pride.
Malcolm exhaled slowly and returned his attention to the Armament helmet before him.
Metallic in structure and Logic. But he knew it wasn't metal. Just pure concentrated and compressed inkforce given shape.
This thing could be controlled if he succeeded in owned it, which he still considers quite dangerous.
Unlike inkforce disturbances that whispered of unseen hands.
But somewhere in the depths of his mind,
The uneasiness remained.