The Eternal Sketch

Five Weeks Later

Ryo's fingers trembled slightly as he held his brush over the parchment. The memory of Callus's warning lingered in his mind, but the thrill of discovery pushed him forward. He had made progress in controlling the independent thoughts of his creations, but now it was time to test those limits.

His latest experiment was a fox—a creature intelligent but not as complex as Hayate. The brush glided across the parchment, forming the sleek body, pointed ears, and piercing eyes. As the final rune was placed, the ink shimmered, and the fox blinked into existence.

The creature stretched before shaking out its fur, then looked up at him with a curious tilt of its head. Ryo hesitated before giving a simple command. "Walk around the room."

The fox obeyed, its movements smooth and natural, but Ryo noticed something different—it glanced at him, as if assessing him, before following his instruction. It wasn't just acting on his will; it was interpreting his words in its own way.

Elara leaned against the doorway, watching with a smirk. "Looks like you're getting better at this."

Ryo exhaled slowly. "Yeah… but I need to see how far I can push it."

He focused again. This time, instead of giving a direct order, he spoke with ambiguity. "Find something interesting."

The fox's ears twitched. It sniffed the air, eyes scanning the room before trotting toward a wooden training dummy in the corner. It circled the dummy, pawing at it curiously before turning back to Ryo as if awaiting further instruction.

Elara whistled. "It actually made a decision."

Ryo's heart pounded. He had granted it limited independent thought, enough to analyze and choose—but still within his control. The weight of responsibility settled over him. How far could he take this before losing control completely?

The thought was interrupted by Callus's arrival. He observed the fox with narrowed eyes before addressing Ryo. "You've made progress. But have you considered what happens if one of these creations defies you?"

Ryo swallowed hard. "I'm making sure that doesn't happen."

Callus stepped closer. "Control isn't just about making them listen. It's about making sure they can never choose to ignore you."

Ryo clenched his jaw. "So what do I do?"

Callus's expression darkened. "You reinforce the bond. Ensure that no matter how much they think, they never forget that their existence is tied to you. Because if you don't…"

The older man turned toward the fox. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a pulse of energy toward it. The fox stiffened, eyes flickering with something unreadable—then, without warning, it growled. A sound Ryo had never expected to hear from one of his creations.

He barely had time to react before he felt the connection between them waver, as if something was resisting his hold. Panic surged through him, but he gritted his teeth and focused, reinforcing the ink's flow, forcing stability back into the creature.

The fox froze, then relaxed, its sharp eyes losing the brief moment of defiance. It sat down obediently.

Ryo's breath came in short gasps. Callus crossed his arms. "You see? Without absolute control, one moment of instability could turn your creations against you. And you are still just a mortal."

Ryo's hands curled into fists. He understood the lesson, but deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that control and independence weren't mutually exclusive.

There had to be a way to balance both.

And he would find it.