Magic-Wielding Artist

It was a sunny morning, and I had risen before the rooster could even muster a crow. Whether it was the excitement, the raw nerves, or the result of a bit too much apple cider the night prior (Pyu was the culprit, naturally), sleep had eluded me.

I had been tossing and turning on the creaky inn bed, waiting for dawn to break. "Why is it taking forever for the sun to rise?" I mumbled, rolling onto my back and staring at the ceiling. 

Then, after what felt like an eternity, a gentle glow began to trickle through the timeworn cracks in our shutters. Breathing a sigh of relief, I disentangled myself from the bed covers and practically danced out of the room. Honestly, mornings never held this much excitement back in my previous world.

The main hall of the inn was silent and empty. The only sounds were the gentle crackling of the dying embers in the fireplace and the rhythmic snoring of Orym, from his room. Shaking my head with a grin, I pulled out the art supplies from their bag and laid them on the table. The canvases, paints, and brushes looked back at me, eagerly waiting for their moment to shine.

The inn's largest wall, which Orym had designated for the mural, stood majestically next to the entrance. It was like a blank canvas, waiting for a touch of creativity. Or, in my case, a touch of madness.

With the early morning light trickling in, I soaked a brush into a pot of deep crimson. I stared at the blank wall, my heart pounding. My first sketch had turned into a bird and flown around the room. Who knew what would happen when I started painting an entire wall?

With a deep breath, I dipped the brush into the pot again and brought it towards the wall. And then, just like that, the mural began.

It was like a dance between the colors and my brush, flowing freely and rhythmically. The rough stone wall drank in the vibrant hues like a thirsty traveler who'd just found a vending machine in a desert. Even the cracks seemed to be doing a little jig as they soaked in the colors. I started with a serene landscape: a meadow speckled with wildflowers, a meandering stream, and a towering tree with leaves that seemed to glisten under the sun.

Hours passed. The sun rose high in the sky, filling the inn with a warm, golden glow. I didn't notice when Putri and Pyuan woke up, nor did I hear the chattering of the early patrons coming in for breakfast. I was lost in my own world of colors, oblivious to everything else.

At some point, Pyu had brought me a tankard of cider, placing it silently by my side. I drank it absent-mindedly, my eyes never leaving the mural. The inn had started to fill up, the room buzzing with life and energy.

And then, I added the finishing touches—a flight of birds soaring high in the sky. As I pulled back my brush after the final stroke, I felt a peculiar tingle, a sudden burst of energy, and then...

Magic happened.

The painted birds took off, spiraling into the air above the patrons. The wildflowers in the meadow seemed to sway gently, as if caressed by a soft breeze. The stream rippled, the sound of gurgling water filling the room. Even the tree appeared to rustle, the painted leaves shimmering as if they were real.

There was a stunned silence, followed by an eruption of applause. The inn patrons looked around in awe, their eyes wide and mouths agape. The room was suddenly filled with laughter, cheers, and a few astonished gasps. The air buzzed with exhilaration and wonder, the mundane walls of the inn transformed into a vibrant spectacle.

Pyuan's eyes twinkled with mischief as she glanced at the mural. "Only you could make a dragon look both majestic and adorably pudgy~pyu!" she teased.

Putri's face lit up with genuine awe, her hands clasped together. "It's breathtaking, truly. You've brought life to our humble inn."

From a corner of the room, an inn patron chuckled, raising his mug in a toast. "Hey, Nanang, can you draw me a chest full of gold next?" His voice was light, filled with friendly banter, and it made me laugh. "Draw gold?" I responded, pretending to ponder the idea, "Draw gold? I'd rather not risk inflation in this kingdom's economy!"

As I stepped back, paintbrush in hand, I looked at the creation I had brought to life. My mural, a vibrant scene from a simple countryside, had become the heart and soul of the inn. It wasn't just a painting anymore. It was alive.

"I did that," I murmured to myself, doubt making way for a rare moment of pride. This mangaka wannabe, turned airport employee, turned unfortunate plane accident victim... was now a magic-wielding artist.

And then I heard it, the hearty laugh of Orym, cutting through the applause and wonder. It was rich and genuine, a laugh that came from deep within. His eyes sparkled with joy as he clapped his hands, looking at me with gratitude.

"Nanang, you've done more than just paint a mural," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "You've brought joy and life to this inn. You've made the patrons happy, you've turned this place into something magical."

He paused, wiping a tear from his eye, then continued, "You'll always have a home here. Stay as long as you want, for you've brought something we never knew we needed."

I glanced over at Putri, her eyes filled with pride, and Pyu, practically bouncing with excitement. Their faith in me was like a fresh coat of paint on my confidence - bright and unwavering. Who would have thought that a former baggage handler like me would end up drawing my way through a fantasy world? But, hey, life's full of surprises – like getting hit by a plane.

And you know what? I think I was starting to like it.

-o0o-

Leaving the warmth of the inn, Putri and I hit the bustling city streets, and she began to reveal her idea.

"Learning magic? In a school?" I chuckled, casting a skeptical glance at Putri. "Come on, Putri. I'm way past the age of sitting in a classroom, scribbling notes, and doing homework. I've been out of school for years!"

Don't get me wrong, the idea of understanding the magic I possessed was tempting. It wasn't every day you wake up in another world and discover you can bring doodles to life. Yet walking into a building full of skilled magic-users, when all I had was a knack for drawing and a catgirl sidekick...well, let's just say it was more nerve-racking than an airport during holiday season.

Putri's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Who says learning has to be confined to a classroom? Age shouldn't be a barrier to gaining knowledge, especially when it comes to your power."

I considered her words. She was right. "I guess," I said, scratching my head. "But wouldn't it be better if I had a mentor? Someone who could guide me one-on-one? I feel like I'm too old to be in a classroom with kids."

Putri smiled. "You know, Nanang, your ability might be related to some natural magic I've studied. I think I could help you understand it better."

"What do you mean? Making you my mentor?"

"N-not like that. I'll teach you what I know and find resources. Books, enchanted objects, that sort of thing. No pressure, just guidance."

It sounded like an offer too good to refuse. But then again, a nagging voice in my mind kept reminding me of the strangeness of this world. Of the unknown reasons behind my being here, and the inexplicable appearance of my original characters.

Was there a connection to this magic?

So there I was, pacing down the streets of the city, Putri by my side, my heart galloping like a runaway horse. The city was a blur of motion and color, the air filled with a cacophony of sounds that was strangely comforting. Just as we were engrossed in conversation, a frantic shout echoed through the streets. The crowd parted, and a disheveled man stumbled into view, his appearance like a storm cloud bursting through the sunlit day. His clothes were torn, his body marred with cuts and bruises.

"Putri," I called, turning towards her. She was already ahead of me, rushing towards the injured man. Her healer's instincts had kicked in, and as she reached him, her hands began to glow with a soft, healing light, weaving a delicate fabric of warmth and care around his wounds.

"Please calm down, sir... It's gonna be okay," Putri said.

Heart sank, and my hands felt strangely cold. This was no random accident; this was something more, something that sent a chill down my spine. As I knelt beside Putri, assisting her where I could, I caught snippets of the man's frantic words.

"Monsters... in the forest," he gasped, eyes wild with terror. "They attacked us!"