Rye's hand pressed firmly on the drawing. Imagining the same thing as before, he focused his attention to flowing down mana to his fingertips. In an instant—
BOOM!
The bark exploded and manifested a 3d extraction of the charcoal drawing. A star-shaped thick bark with black outline. It fell on the grass and Rye picked it up.
'Creation? What is this?'
He spun the star and narrowed his eyes. It worked. It actually worked! But this is pretty underwhelming considering the system is supposed to be a cheat. The perspective was messed up – the star wasn't perfect.
That was because… well, he'd lost all his art skills in his past life. All the comparisons, time limits, and art block took a toll on Rye. He wished he hadn't quit at all. Maybe then this system would be of use. The perspective was all messed up. It was annoying. A simple star shape and he couldn't even draw it.
Agh! Rye gripped the charcoal, annoyed. He threw down the star and it cracked on the ground. Eyes narrowed at his own incompetence.
'This is a second chance… I can practice peacefully and improve. No use getting sad over it.'
He sighed and began carving something more complex.
Rye pressed the charcoal hard. He swung it in arcs and produced a complex drawing. A ruggish recreation of the Mona Lisa. It was horrible. The anatomy was wonky, the eyes were too far apart. What was he even thinking?
Whatever. He was here to test out his powers, not creativity.
Rye pressed his fingertips on the bark and did the same thing earlier. Imagining mana flowing down, he closed his eyes and let the system do its thing.
BOOM! Another one. Barks flew out this time, falling on the grass like rain.
When the explosion cleared out, Rye saw the 3d extraction of his drawing. Just added height. No depth, texture, or anything else. Not even holes or circle-shapes in the eye. The funny abomination cracked instantly on the ground as it fell.
The panel assaulted Rye's vision.
[Leveled up! 3 -> 4]
[Leveled up! 4 -> 5]
And he felt his strength increase ever so slightly. So Rye could just draw and he would be leveling up? That was pretty insane to think about. No need to move, just draw. Then, maybe, he could improve on his horrible skills.
Even drawing needs some practice and work.
Rye looked at his creation, sighed, then kicked the pieces away. He really needed paper to be able to draw comfortably. If he wanted to practice, he shouldn't run off outside just to draw again and again. And Mom might see him messing up the charcoal. What he needed was paper and ink.
Right! Why his drawings sucked was not because he sucked… it was because of the charcoal. If only he had proper materials then he'd be better.
But paper could be expensive, no?
Clay tablets? Stone tablets? Parchment?
Those could work as well. Just something that could be used while sitting down. Even quills would work – dipped in ink and start drawing on top of parchment.
But it's not the same thing as paper, or drawing on paper. Rye wasn't doing this just to be overpowered.
He wanted to become an artist after all.
The first step to that was making the long lost sketchbook.
And get paper.
***
After that discovery, Rye went to draw about twenty more times. Each leveling up his system stat. Though, overtime, he needed more and more drawings to level up once. Looks like EXP stacks even in this world, too. That's only fair.
Rye was at level 12 now, pretty decent. But take that with a grain of salt since he had nothing to compare what 'decent' was to.
Rye opened the front door feeling exhausted. He'd lost all mana, and needed to rest badly to recover. His droopy eyes were proof of that. And his husky voice as secondary proof.
To be fair, Mari warned about mana exhaustion. But he felt as if he'd missed the opportunity if he didn't level up right then and there. Looks like Rye should've picked the latter, as he'd felt like all hell had gone loose.
Was old Rye's sickness taking over? That wasn't good at all.
The world spun and he felt as dizzy as ever. Maybe mana worked as an immune system in this world. If that's the case, he's cooked beyond comparison. Rye held back the urge to cry, head hurting from the vitiligo.
Mom rushed off to see him, "Oh what did I tell you? What did you do outside?!"
"I just walked around," Rye said, gripping the doorframe. His legs felt like noodles.
Mom caught his arm. "You're pale. Come sit down."
She guided him to the table and pushed him into a chair. Her hand pressed against his forehead.
"You're not feverish, but..." She frowned. "Did you overdo it? Mari said she taught you mana control."
"Maybe a little," Rye admitted. His head felt foggy, like he'd just woken from a long nap.
Mom sighed. "Of course you did. Just like your sister. Both of you push too hard."
She went to the kitchen area and returned with a cup of water and a piece of bread. "Eat. Drink. Slowly."
Rye obeyed. The bread tasted like cardboard but his stomach was grateful.
"Where's Mari?" he asked between bites.
"Still gathering. She'll be back soon." Mom sat across from him. "Rye, I know you want to be strong like your sister. But you just recovered. You can't rush these things."
"I know."
"Do you?" She gave him that look—the mom look that sees through everything. "Because it seems like the moment you felt better, you decided to run yourself into the ground again."
Rye couldn't argue with that.
"Just... pace yourself, okay? Magic isn't going anywhere."
"Okay."
She ruffled his hair and stood. "Finish eating. Then rest. I mean actually rest, not 'rest while secretly doing more magic.'"
"I'll rest. Promise."
Mom went back to her chores. Rye finished the bread and water, then dragged himself to his room.
He collapsed on the bed. His body was exhausted, but his mind kept replaying what he'd done.
'Twelve levels in one session. That's insane progress. But I can't do that again. Not without proper supplies.'
He needed paper. Real paper. Not tree bark.
Because how would he improve, then?
'Where do I even get that in a medieval fantasy village?'
Merchants, probably. But merchants needed money.
'How does a seven-year-old make money?'
He'd figure it out tomorrow. Right now, his mana reserves felt like a dried-up well.
Rye closed his eyes and let exhaustion take him.