Chapter 4: The First Brushstroke Toward Survival
Without thinking too much, Lucien D. Blackthorn knew that the female nurse had misunderstood his relationship with Eriri. But right now, he was too exhausted to care about such insignificant things.
Now that he had a notebook and a pencil, it was time to start drawing.
Only by creating comics could he prolong his life.
About a minute later, the female nurse and the attending physician returned to the emergency room. After performing a few simple checks and confirming that his condition was stable and the equipment was functioning correctly, they gave him a few final instructions and quietly exited.
Lucien forced himself upright, leaning back against the head of the bed, and reached out with trembling fingers to grasp the pen and notebook beside him.
He had exactly two hours of consciousness—two precious hours without pain.
He would use every second to create.
Original content was out of the question. Lucien simply didn't have the energy to brainstorm something entirely new. His plan was to select a manga from his original world and reproduce it here.
Thanks to his master-level comic creation skills and newly enhanced memory, recreating the first and second chapters of a top-tier manga within the two-hour window was entirely within his capability.
His hands would act with precision, simply recreating what was already engraved in his mind, with no need for revisions or second-guessing.
In the world of comic creation, revision was often the longest and most grueling part. Even the most revered mangaka spent days—if not weeks—adjusting lines, reworking storyboards, and tightening narratives.
But Lucien, with his system-backed powers, was standing on the shoulders of giants. His drawing was like divine sketching—quick, fluid, and deeply expressive. He could produce quality at a pace no one else could dream of.
"So… what should I draw first?"
Lucien hesitated. The list of masterpieces from his old world flashed through his mind.
Slam Dunk, Prince of Tennis, Death Note, Detective Conan, Naruto, Dragon Ball, Saint Seiya…
Each of them would be a groundbreaking debut in this unfamiliar world.
But time wasn't on his side.
According to the system's mission, he had to publish a manga within five days and attract 5,000 readers to earn five days of additional life.
He needed something explosive—something that would immediately capture attention.
"It's decided then… You're up, Attack on Titan."
In Lucien's original world, Attack on Titan had debuted with a bang—an apocalyptic world, humanity fighting for survival, Titans breaking through the wall. The gripping tension, the unpredictable turns, and the chilling tone made it an instant sensation.
Though the original manga had a controversial ending, Lucien believed the early arcs were masterpieces.
"If I survive long enough… maybe I'll even rewrite that ending," he muttered with a weak smile.
No more hesitation.
Lucien gripped the pencil and began sketching with intense focus. With each stroke, scenes from Attack on Titan came to life—Titans looming above walls, terrified citizens running for their lives, brave soldiers clashing against impossible odds.
Each page flowed into the next as if his hand were possessed by the spirit of creation itself.
Two hours passed in the blink of an eye.
That was relativity at work—when one is fully immersed, time no longer obeys.
Page after page filled the comic manuscript. Fifty pages in total—two complete chapters.
What took Hajime Isayama months to produce, Lucien completed in a single sitting.
Of course, this wasn't an exact replica. As a creator, Lucien couldn't help but make a few improvements. He adjusted pacing, fixed minor inconsistencies, and enhanced panel dynamics with cleaner lines and improved visual storytelling.
His version of Attack on Titan was familiar, yet refined—a vision enhanced by hindsight and unparalleled skill.
The moment he finished, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion struck him. Pain crept into his limbs like poison.
He set the notebook and pen down, laid back against the hospital bed, and let the darkness consume him once again.
---
The Next Morning — Saturday
Normally, Eriri Sawamura would sleep late on weekends. But this morning was different.
She woke up early—eyes red-rimmed, dark circles shadowing her porcelain skin.
Sayuri Sawamura, her elegant and gentle mother, had just returned from seeing off her husband when she noticed her daughter sitting at the dining table, nibbling on toast with a distracted look.
Eriri," Sayuri said warmly. "You're up early. It's Saturday, isn't it? Did something happen?"
Eriri's emotions were always written plainly across her face. Today, she looked troubled—preoccupied by thoughts she couldn't shake.
She stared into her glass of milk, took a sip, and then, in a soft voice, asked, "Mom… if you knew you were going to die soon, what would you do?"
Sayuri blinked, stunned. "What are you saying? That's such an unlucky thing to say this early in the morning!"
She walked over and flicked Eriri's forehead gently. "Don't curse your mother like that."
Eriri quickly lowered her head. "Sorry, Mom… I didn't mean it like that."
Sayuri's tone softened. She reached out and tucked a strand of her daughter's golden hair behind her ear.
"You're not yourself today. Did something happen?"
For a moment, Eriri hesitated. Then, after a long silence, she whispered, "Mom… there's this boy in my class. Lucien. He's sick. Really sick."
Sayuri's warm expression shifted to concern as she sat down beside her daughter, sensing something deeper was weighing on her.
Eriri bit her lip. "He only has a few days left. And yet… all he wanted was a notebook and a pencil so he could draw one last time."
Sayuri's eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing, allowing her daughter to continue.
"I saw him yesterday. He looked like he was on the edge of death, but he smiled at me. And he said… he just wanted to draw. That it was the only way he could stay alive…"
Her voice broke slightly.
Sayuri remained quiet for a moment, then placed her hand gently on Eriri's shoulder.
"Then maybe… the best thing you can do is be by his side."
Eriri's eyes filled with tears, but she nodded.
"I will."