The Eternal Sketch

One Week Later

Ryo wiped the sweat from his brow, his breathing labored. Hayate had remained summoned for only ten minutes before the strain became unbearable, forcing Ryo to release him. It was progress—when he first succeeded in bringing the swordsman to life, he had barely lasted three minutes before his energy was completely drained.

Callus had been right. This was only the first step.

Frustrated, Ryo collapsed onto the stone bench outside the training hall. Elara sat beside him, casually tossing an apple in her hand. "You're pushing yourself too hard."

"I have to," Ryo muttered. "Keeping Hayate summoned takes too much energy. If I can't maintain him for long, how can I even think about creating anything stronger?"

Elara took a bite of her apple, chewing thoughtfully. "Maybe you should start smaller."

Ryo glanced at her. "Smaller?"

She nodded. "Instead of trying to hold a fully-fledged warrior in existence, why not work on maintaining something simpler? Animals, objects—test your endurance on things that won't drain you as fast."

It made sense. Summoning a full-fledged character was like running before he could walk. If he wanted to improve, he needed to build up his stamina first.

Determined, Ryo grabbed his brush and parchment. He dipped the tip into ink and, with a few swift strokes, sketched a small bird. Focusing his will, he infused the drawing with energy. The ink shimmered, and moments later, a tiny black-feathered sparrow flitted into existence, hopping onto his outstretched hand.

It was… light. Compared to Hayate, the mental strain was almost nonexistent. The connection between them was stable, and he could feel its presence without it pulling at his energy reserves.

He watched it curiously as it flapped its wings and took off into the sky, circling above before returning to his shoulder. He let it remain for ten minutes, then fifteen, then thirty. The energy cost was so low that he could almost forget it was there. A stark contrast to Hayate, whose presence felt like holding onto a whirlwind with bare hands.

Encouraged, he moved on to other creations. A small cat, a koi fish that swam lazily in an ink-formed bowl, a floating lantern that flickered as though holding a real flame. Each one lasted longer, strengthening his control and endurance.

Two Weeks Later

Ryo had pushed his practice further, experimenting not just with creatures but with objects and even food. At first, the food had been tricky—it looked real but lacked any taste or texture. After countless attempts, he managed to create an apple that tasted faintly sweet, though the flavor vanished after a few bites.

He was learning. Slowly but surely, he was mastering the balance of form, essence, and stability.

By the end of the second week, he attempted Hayate again. His ink blade-wielding warrior emerged from the parchment, his coat flowing as if caught in an unseen breeze. Ryo focused, steadying his breath, reinforcing the connection with everything he had learned.

Fifteen minutes passed.

Then twenty.

By the time he reached thirty, his vision blurred from exhaustion, and he was forced to release the form before he collapsed.

Elara caught him before he hit the ground. "Hey, that's the longest yet," she said, her voice laced with something that almost sounded like pride.

Ryo grinned weakly. "Yeah… but I've still got a long way to go."

She chuckled. "Then I guess you'd better get back to work."

As the days passed, Ryo continued refining his craft, determined to push beyond his limits. He wasn't just recreating things from his past life—he was learning what it meant to truly bring them to life.

And he wouldn't stop until he could summon them all.