The next morning, Cyril used the materials Ohaiz had given him to concoct a cup of silver liquid, with fine bubbles constantly rising from it, like viscous sparkling water.
He then flicked a gold coin from his hand and performed a simple divination.
Tails up meant no!
"As expected, it's a failed potion. At least the double portion of supplementary materials wasn't wasted."
Muttering under his breath, he poured the failed potion in his hand onto a Painting Scroll he had just finished.
On the front of the Painting Scroll was an amorphous black mass of thread, its gaps filled with eyes. Behind it spread pairs of white wings, likewise covered in eyes, asymmetrical and utterly discordant.
This was something he had painted after applying a degree of artistic processing to the incomplete mythical creature form of a Mystery Pryer.
"I clearly painted according to my spiritual intuition, so why did the final product turn out this abstract?"
...The underlying aesthetic of this world must simply be chaotic and abstract.
As he muttered softly, the viscous sparkling-water-like liquid had already been greedily absorbed by the image on the paper.
Then, the lashless eyes growing from the gaps in the pitch-black mass of thread began to blink. Filled with emotions such as longing and reverence, they gazed at him while the wings behind it swayed back and forth.
It had come to life!
The two stared at each other for a moment before Cyril suddenly spoke.
"You can't talk?"
Within the Painting Scroll, the pitch-black mass of thread covered in eyes wriggled its body, making all its eyes look toward him as it conveyed its emotions.
Agreement, delight, and disappointment.
The next second, Cyril saw an abstract humanoid figure holding its own head appear in a corner of the Painting Scroll.