As the rainbow ink finally touched Leo’s border, he didn't feel anger. He felt a strange curiosity. If the world could be rewritten once, it could be rewritten again.

Leo retreated to his tiny teal corner, the last 0.1% of the world that wasn't rainbow. He realized then that the game had changed. The Grid was no longer about skill or strategy; it had been rewritten by someone who had broken the rules of the universe itself.

In the infinite white expanse of the Grid, life was simple. You were a square of light, trailing a ribbon of neon ink. To live was to move; to move was to conquer.