Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

Lancet remembered some of the worst weeks of his life.

Take an example, back in his former world when one of the webnovels being published under Onyx Digital has been hacked by a reader who hated the novel so much that he changed all the words to: ”I, the author, likes shoving spiked dildos up my ass.”

The entire company was in panic mode and after the novel had been retrieved, Lancet (Max) was the one who had to suffer by retrieving the original Chapters and copy-pasting everything all over again.

All 1129 Chapters!

That was a gruesome week and he would never forget it.

But he was also never going to forget this week either.

After the Basic Dungeon expedition, Ordenance’s words, Nereus’s shadow attack, and his Lancet’s small level up, the week that followed was an exhausting, paranoid blur of survival.

Lancet quickly realized that being the First Year MVP put a massive, glowing target on his back. His fellow First Years, still humiliated by a ”Dull Rank” outperforming them, made the hallways a nightmare.

Some of his greatest victimizers were:

Boom!

Kallan Kallahan. A Thunder Mage, and a pretty good one for a Year One. He had a Radiant-Ranked Talent and could already manipulate thunder at the second base to shoot at distant targets.

Next was Stacey Blue. She was a Mind Mage, and the only one from the Enchanter Class Group giving him any trouble. She was also Radiant-Ranked, which was surprisingly low for a Mind Mage — and that annoyed her.

She would toy with Lancet’s mind, making him more terrified than he should be whenever they were around.

Next were the Temperature Twins. Cecil and Cillian Darkmatter. They could both control temperature but Cecil controlled hot while Cillian controlled cold. One could simply imagine what they could do to Lancet.

Finally, Baroq Chairhead. He was a Barbarian, bigger than the rest of the Year Ones, and with muscle mass that made Lancet give him the nickname ”Baby Hulk” in his mind and his mind alone.

Altogether, these five made Lancet’s week a living hell, not to forget his own fellow Summoners and seniors in Summoner-C.

Lancet didn’t always summon Astensia when they attacked. Actually, he rarely summoned her at all. Not only because it felt loser-like to call upon her repeatedly, but because he was saving his Grace for when he really needed her.

Mostly, he shielded himself and managed to survive the blows because of his slightly increased Constitution.

And his bullies knew that he couldn’t summon her at all times because of his weak Grace Retention, which was why they attacked him readily, demanding that he give up the legendary Heroine.

”Just die or something!”

”Don’t you know how disgraceful it is that our legend is in the hands of Dull Ranked vermin from the slums!”

”You don’t have the Grace to use her properly so just fucking give her up already!”

Lancet spent his free time mastering the art of the tactical retreat — ducking into abandoned classrooms, taking the long way around the Elementalist homerooms, and flinching at every shifting shadow in fear that Nereus Grimlake had returned to finish the job.

Between the running and hiding, there was the learning. Ms. Maecil’s lectures became Lancet’s sanctuary.

Even though he basically knew everything, her lectures helped refresh his memory, reminding him of what to do and what not to do in the coming Dungeon Clearing expedition.

Also, he was growing a soft spot for the spirited teacher.

Meanwhile, the ”canon” plot of Awakener Supreme marched on without him.

Renan Falconhart, as predictably overpowered as ever, had practically destroyed a rogue golem in the courtyard to save Amira Vineheart, the beautiful Arcanist from the Enchanter Class Group.

By Tuesday, Amira was sitting at Renan’s table, blushing fiercely whenever he spoke. Lancet had watched from afar, rolling his eyes as another brilliant female character was relegated to the protagonist’s cheering squad.

But Lancet had his own priorities.

Every morning before dawn, he sneaked into the Class Group-A training arenas, scavenging discarded magical energy supplements from the elite waste bins.

He purified the dregs through his mental Sieve, slowly hoarding pure Grace. By Saturday night, his Soul Core was brimming with 250 MP.

Still too small. His next EXP gains would definitely be going into increasing his Grace Retention.

The day before the next expedition arrived, Lancet was standing in the overgrown section of the old wall behind the Bronze Dorms.

The perimeter of the Awakener Supreme Institute was protected by a massive, invisible ward that tracked student movements. Leaving without permission was illegal, and getting permission required a long process and Profits that Lancet didn’t have.

But having read the novel thirty times, Lancet knew that here, the old wall behind the Bronze Dorm was a blind spot.

He outstretched his hand and activated his Summon Skill.

The giant beam of gold slammed into the ground in front of him, crushing the willow branches. Astensia materialized after.

She was fully clad in the Plate of Divine Will, her greatsword locked on her back. She immediately scanned the dark trees, her azure eyes sharp.

”Is there an ambush, Lord Lancet?” she asked, prepared to defend him.

”No ambush,” Lancet smiled, holding up a small canvas bag. ”Just a promise I need to keep. I told you I’d show you the new world.”

Astensia blinked, her battle-ready posture softening into surprise. ”We are leaving the Academy?”

”Exactly. But you can’t go out there looking like a paladin from the Era of Ash. You’d draw too much attention.” Lancet unzipped the bag and pulled out a folded pile of fabric.

”I borrowed these from my roommate, Anita. She’s... well, she’s a lot smaller than you, but they stretch. Put them on. I’ll turn around.”

Astensia stared into the bag. ”Modern clothes,” she murmured.

”Yeah,” Lancet smiled.

”I’ve never worn one before,” she said in a surprisingly nervous tone.

Lancet shrugged. ”Well, first time for everything, eh?”

He spun on his heel, staring intently at the bark of a willow tree. ”I’ll give you some space.”

For a while, he heard nothing, then he heard some metallic clacking like she was taking off her armor and returning it into her inventory space. Then he heard the soft rustle of fabric.

Lancet swallowed hard, his face suddenly feeling very warm. He was a godlike Architect, but he was also a teenage boy, and the reality of his situation was occasionally overwhelming.

If he turned around now, he could see her naked, see the matured, feminine body he created. His eyes almost started to move on their own, but he fought it and gazed into the sky.

”Lord, why do you tempt me so?”

”I am decent, Lancet.”

”Oh!” He turned back around, and his breath hitched slightly.

Because Anita was petite, the casual clothes—a high-collared, sleeveless black turtleneck and a pair of dark, reinforced denim shorts—clung tightly to Astensia’s frame.

The outfit perfectly accentuated her Amazonian height, her athletic, battle-forged musculature, and the undeniable curves she usually hid behind an inch of divine steel.

Her thick braid of liquid gold hair fell over her shoulder, framing a face that looked far more human without the winged helm.

She pulled at the collar, looking uncomfortable. ”This fabric offers zero protection against slashing attacks.”

Lancet cleared his throat, forcing his eyes to stay locked on hers. ”You look... great. Really great. Now, the Academy’s magical ward doesn’t cover this section of the wall, but it’s fifty feet high. I need you to jump us over.”

Astensia stiffened. Her bright blue eyes widened with a sudden, rigid panic. ”Master... does this not violate the Academy’s curfew edicts? As a Knight, my honor binds me to the laws of the land. To sneak out like a common thief...”

Lancet stepped closer, looking up at her. Rather than just commanding her to obey, he shot her a trusting smile.

”Astensia, you held the Greatest Gate for seven days and died for a world that has moved along since then,” Lancet said softly. ”Sometimes, breaking a small rule is fine if it’s for the right reason. You earned the right to see what you saved. So let me show it to you.”

The rigid conflict in her eyes melted away, and she was warm all over, touched by his words. She shot him a small, stunning smile.

”Very well,” she whispered.

She stepped into his space, wrapping one strong arm around his waist and pushing him close to her.

Lancet’s eyes popped wide as his hands accidentally pressed into her breasts when he tried to wrap his arms around her. He readjusted, hugging her feminine side curves as his face reddened.

Astensia smiled but ignored it. She bent her knees, causing the ground beneath them to crack. With a sound like a canon firing, she leaped.

They shot over fifty feet into the air, soaring effortlessly over the Gothic iron spikes of the academy wall, and plummeted toward the city below.

The wind roared in Lancet’s ears, but he felt completely safe against her side.

They landed in a quiet, soft lit alleyway with a quiet thud.

”Welcome to Aethelgard,” Lancet grinned, stepping out of her hold.