**#203. Imitation and Creation (2)**
—
The young man had three circles.
…Ray couldn’t recall the face, but the distribution and proportion of the multicolored mana within the circles were familiar.
“May I sit next to you for a moment?”
A gentle smile.
A mild and polite tone.
And a sketchbook in hand.
Ray nodded without much response, and the young man brought over a wooden box lying nearby and sat down next to him.
His neatly arranged clothing didn’t look cheap, but the way he sat on the dirty box showed no hesitation.
“My name is Solite. If it’s not an imposition, would it be alright if I observed your creative process for a bit?”
In the young man’s gaze fixed on Ray’s drawing, there was a clear expression of interest.
“I don’t mind.”
“Thank you. If you happen to feel uncomfortable while working, please let me know at any time, and I’ll step away.”
The conversation paused there.
Ray’s pencil moved briskly over the paper, while the young man didn’t take his eyes off Ray even for a moment.
Eventually, the drawing was completed.
Dots, lines, and planes with indiscernible shapes proclaimed chaos and disorder on the white paper.
‘It’s still hard. No matter how much I practice, I don’t think I’ll improve that much.’
As Ray frowned slightly in thought, a deep exclamation came from the side.
“Oh…! The modulation of line intensity is unintentional yet meticulous, and the omissions and compressions are bold and highly impressive. To reinterpret a subject in such a manner—this is a picture fully deserving to be called a work of art.”
“…?”
By Ray’s judgment—who considered himself somewhat socialized—that was clearly mockery.
An emotion surged abruptly.
Ray glared at the young man.
‘Eliminate him. Right here.’
Laqria inside the gem nodded as if ready.
“May I ask what you were drawing?”
“The scenery in front of me right now.”
“The circle in the center must be the fountain, then.”
“That’s a car.”
“Then the object with wheels on the left must be the car.”
“That’s the fountain.”
“This must be a balloon, then.”
“That’s a pedestrian. Look, it’s on the ground.”
Ray, having finished his responses, nodded as if concluding something.
‘Eliminate him, without a trace.’
Sensing Ray’s will, Laqria flicked its tongue with a menacing hiss.
The moment Ray began drawing mana, the young man continued speaking.
“So this is how the world appears to you. To be honest, I’ve never seen this style of painting before. I can’t imagine how long you must have endured to build such a unique world.”
“…”
Ray calmed down a bit.
He now realized that there was no malice or sarcasm in the other’s demeanor.
In other words, he was being sincere.
“I’m envious.”
“Envious?”
“Yes, because I don’t have a unique style like this. My skills are lacking, but may I show you something?”
When Ray nodded, the young man opened his sketchbook and displayed his drawings.
Children joyfully playing in the streets.
A lively marketplace and its merchants.
A panoramic view of the sector from a high tower.
Each one was so detailed and complete that they could be mistaken for photographs.
“You draw well.”
“Not at all. I simply mimicked what I saw, and that’s far from worthy of being called art.”
Though his tone carried a hint of regret, there was no trace of self-deprecation or pessimism.
The young man continued.
“Transferring what already exists onto paper isn’t difficult. With consistent practice, anyone can eventually do it. But creating a unique world is a completely different matter. That requires imagination.”
Imagination.
A word Ray had recently been preoccupied with—now appearing at an unexpected time from an unexpected person.
Ray voiced his curiosity without hesitation.
“What does imagination mean to you?”
“That’s a question with many possible answers. At least in terms of drawing, I believe imagination is the perspective from which one sees the world.”
“The perspective from which you see the world?”
“Yes. A drawing inevitably reflects the artist’s subjectivity. Depending on one’s perspective, even the same subject can yield entirely different results.”
The perspective from which one sees the world.
Ray lowered his gaze to examine the young man’s vessel.
Red, orange, yellow…
Love, gratitude, excitement…
The bright and warm-colored emotions indicated that he saw the world with a deeply positive outlook.
In fact, all the drawings shown earlier had a bright and lively atmosphere.
Then Ray checked the young man’s circles.
The same hues of mana found in his vessel were present in all three circles.
The distribution of mana within a circle reflects the magician’s disposition at the time of construction.
Maintaining such a positive view of the world since the formation of his first circle—until now—was what that meant.
Then it dawned on him.
‘You can tell how a person has lived by looking at their circles. And also how they currently see the world.’
Suddenly, a question arose.
How do I see the world?
Ray had never asked himself that question—having only ever lived to survive each day.
He suddenly felt as if the scope of the world had expanded, and slowly lowered his gaze to check his own circles.
Red. Light pink. Violet.
Yellow. Blue. Green. Gray, and so on.
Various colors of mana he had acquired throughout his journey swam dynamically within his circles.
And beyond that, even small traces of sparkling mana like grains of sand.
“…”
Now that he thought about it, his circles were structured differently than those of ordinary magicians.
The charged mana roamed freely across all areas, regardless of circle boundaries.
This meant he couldn’t tell how he viewed the world.
The mana distribution changed constantly, and the dominant color in each circle shifted accordingly.
‘…I guess I don’t have a fixed perception of the world.’
He seeks the rainbow.
He repays what he receives.
He protects those dear to him.
Aside from those few core principles, his perception of the world had continued to evolve with every new realization during his travels.
Perhaps that’s why his drawings turned out so ambiguous in form.
Ray muttered under his breath without realizing it.
“I want to draw something accurate.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I want to draw pictures where it’s clear what the subject is—like yours.”
The young man, slightly raising an eyebrow, spoke with puzzlement.
“You can do that anytime you wish, can’t you?”
“No. I can’t. Today was my first time ever drawing.”
“You’re quite good at jokes.”
“I don’t make jokes.”
Their eyes met for a moment.
Ray got the sense that the young man had read something in his eyes.
“…You’re serious.”
The young man’s voice was dazed.
He seemed shocked to realize that Ray’s drawing wasn’t the result of arduous effort, but simply the outcome of being utterly untalented.
But he quickly returned to his original expression and said,
“However… to express such a style without any foundation is, in fact, an extraordinary talent.”
“You’re mocking me again.”
“I swear I’m not.”
“You said that expressing one’s own imagination in art only becomes possible after building a strong foundation.”
“Who said that?”
“Grine.”
“Who’s that?”
“My art teacher. Really observant, draws well.”
A brief silence.
Ray added as if remembering something.
“And likes meat.”
“I see.”
Nodding, the young man took a breath and spoke in a persuading tone.
“In my view, your artwork already overflows with imagination. Of course, fundamentals are important. But occasionally, there are people who bypass the basics and leap straight to mastery. We call them geniuses.”
Ray responded immediately.
“I’m not a genius.”
“No. You definitely have talent. There’s no need to be obsessed with imitation. I recommend you develop your current style as your strength. No—in fact, you must. Because—”
The young man looked down at Ray’s drawing in the sketchbook.
“—it would be too much of a shame to delay the birth and growth of such an impressive world.”
There’s no need to cling to imitation.
Advice that stood in complete contrast to Grine’s.
At that moment, the mana within Ray’s circle stirred slightly.
Ray, who had been staring straight at the young man, finally spoke.
“Drawing doesn’t seem like your job.”
“It’s one of many things I do. But after working on it steadily, a sizable desire formed, and I’ve poured much passion into it.”
Then a man approached, glanced briefly at Ray, and whispered to the young man.
“High Priest Solite, the bishop is requesting your presence.”
The young man seemed to hold a fairly high position within the church, but Ray wasn’t particularly surprised.
They had locked eyes during a previous church procession.
So he had already guessed as much—if not the exact position.
Solite rose from his seat and gazed at Ray for a long moment before finally speaking.
“Would you consider coming with me? I feel there’s much we could share.”
“……”
A brief silence followed.
*Click—*
Ray’s world disappeared beneath the cover of the sketchbook.
*
Northern outskirts of the sector.
“Have you ever been to the cathedral before, sir?”
“This is my first time.”
The grand cathedral towered imposingly among the damp, decrepit buildings, exuding splendor and majesty.
Near the entrance, a crowd had gathered—likely for a free meal service.
“Then I suppose you’re not familiar with our order’s doctrine or central beliefs?”
“Not really.”
“Allow me to briefly explain—”
“It’s Solite!”
A shout rang out from the food line.
As people turned their heads and spotted Solite, they rushed over in a wave.
“Solite! I’ve been hoping to see you!”
“Did you sleep well last night?”
“Please, bless me…!”
They were in shabby, worn-out clothes.
Solite welcomed them without a hint of discomfort, offering a warm smile.
“Mr. Ron, it looks like your injured leg has healed—what a relief. Cassel, you seem healthier today than yesterday. Jack, as I’ve said before, I’m no saint.”
He responded to each of them, one by one.
Afterward, Solite and Ray made their way through the crowd and entered the cathedral.
A vast hall stretched before them.
A towering ceiling loomed high above.
Between the massive columns that supported the cathedral, priests and followers moved about.
‘Most of the priests are 1st or 2nd Circle. The mana in their circles is predominantly orange.’
That color of mana was commonly associated with feelings of gratitude and peace.
The priests and believers who recognized Solite approached, offering greetings filled with deep reverence.
“But the child beside you…”
“He’s my guest.”
Their expressions suggested surprise at Solite bringing someone with him.
Of course, the boy in question was too absorbed by the paintings lined up along the walls to notice.
The paintings had a strange, captivating feel.
Figures of light in the frames were depicted engaged in various activities.
“They’re gods.”
“Gods?”
“Yes. The gods who created the world.”
Solite added that every religious painting in the cathedral had been created by his own hand.
“But if they’re gods, then isn’t that kind of like voyeur—”
“Sorry?”
“—No, it’s nothing.”
Ray stopped himself from saying “voyeurism.”
Instead, he followed his curiosity.
“These were all painted by you?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know much about art, but even I can tell these are amazing. I’d say they reflect a world uniquely your own.”
“No, not at all. I simply illustrated passages straight from the scriptures. None of this is my own interpretation or creation.”
Translating words into images.
It still seemed an impressive feat—but Solite appeared to think it wasn’t enough.
*Click—click—*
They continued walking deeper inside.
Before long, they arrived at a massive orb surrounded by a rope barrier that prohibited entry.
Its surface was smooth like an egg.
Its base color was white.
Across it, large patterns in red, orange, and yellow—resembling scattered starlight—covered the orb like a mosaic.
Around it, priests and believers stood in silent prayer, heads bowed.
In a quiet voice, Solite said,
“This is the artificial sun.”
“I saw it during the procession.”
“Yes, I imagine you did. It’s large enough to be visible from nearly anywhere in the city.”
Solite nodded, his expression dimming slightly as he continued.
“Originally, the sun embraced all living things beneath the clear sky with its warm light. But at some point, for reasons unknown, its light faded and it vanished behind dark clouds.”
“…….”
“Every person carries shadows within them. No matter how bright their outward expressions or actions may appear, anxiety and fear linger deep inside. But if the sun were to rise again, all the shadows in the world would disappear. We are searching for the one who can breathe light into this artificial sun.”
After a short pause, Solite met Ray’s gaze directly and said,
“I’m talking about our god.”
