Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

Lancet took the beaker. He swirled the glowing red liquid once, took a deep breath, and drank it slowly.

Blehhhhh!

What a horrible taste. It tasted like rusted copper and dark vegetables. He coughed, his face violently scrunching up in disgust as he handed the empty beaker back.

”Ugh, that is incredibly bitter,” Lancet grimaced, wiping his mouth. ”Is that what a heart tastes like? How can a sweet emotion like love come from something so bitter?”

Nurse Hallow paused, entirely caught off guard, before a genuine, bright smile broke across her face at the cheesy joke.

”How do you feel?” she asked, her eyes crinkling.

”Surprisingly normal,” Lancet said with a shrug. ”I don’t feel any—”

He stopped mid-sentence. He instantly clutched his chest, his fingers digging into his uniform.

Dum. Dum. Dum.

He felt like his heart was suddenly pumping a thousand times faster, trying to hammer its way out of his ribcage. A wave of searing, euphoric heat exploded outward from his chest, forcing his veins to expand.

At least that’s what it felt like.

It was his Soul Core. He could actually feel it physically stretching, expanding its borders to hold more Grace.

The heat flared for ten agonizing, exhilarating seconds before settling into profound calmness. Even more soothing than before the pain started.

A golden notification pinged in his vision.

⸢ Edible Item [Orc King’s Heart] has been ingested. ⸥

⸢ Soul Core has expanded. ⸥

⸢ Grace Retention has increased by ×5. ⸥

⸢ 250 Max MP × 5 = 1250 Max MP. ⸥

Lancet stared at the numbers. 1250 Max MP. A huge, monumental jump. He wasn’t a dry well anymore. He was a reservoir.

”It works,” Lancet breathed, looking up at Nurse Hallow with a bright, thrilled grin. He hopped off the bed. ”Thank you so much, Miss Hallow. You’re an absolute lifesaver. You’re really good at your job and you’re kind too. That’s really rare in this school.”

Nurse Hallow blinked, a sudden, furious blush dusting her cheeks. She quickly turned away to clean the mortar, trying to hide her flustered, frustrated face.

’This boy,’ she thought, feeling suddenly defensive.

”I... I also noticed your account earlier,” Hallow said, trying to regain her professional composure as she wiped the table. ”Your medical debt was paid down almost completely. A direct deposit of 5000 Profits. You only have 1000 left to pay. How come?”

Lancet stretched his arms over his head, feeling lighter than air. ”I told you already. I cleared a Higher Dungeon in today’s expedition. I was the MVP again.”

Hallow turned around, watching him walk toward the door with a newfound, confident spring in his step.

’Is he really telling the truth? she thought, utterly bewildered. ’If so... then how can he possibly be a Dull Rank?’

”Goodbye, Nurse Hallow!” he said.

The doors closed.

Hallow just stared. ”Good... bye.”

Time trickled by fast, and soon, school was over. The late afternoon sun was casting long, dramatic shadows across the Academy grounds as Lancet finally made his way back toward the dormitories.

The adrenaline of the Dungeon and the euphoria of the core expansion were finally wearing off, leaving him pleasantly exhausted.

Once he reached the Bronze Dorms, it was pretty dark. Lancet tried to hurry his steps. He wasn’t a big fan of the dark.

”Hehehehe.”

Lancet stopped dead in his tracks.

He had definitely just heard a scary laughter right now. The eerie, high-pitched giggle had echoed from the shadow of that stone fountain.

Lancet tried to act tough.

Suddenly, a painfully thin girl burst out of the shadows, executing a flawless, erratic series of cartwheels across the cobblestone path.

She landed in a crouch right in front of him. She had wild, multi-colored hair tied in messy pigtails, giving off major Harley Quinn vibes, and was clutching a horribly disfigured, stitched-together stuffed doll against her chest.

”Well, hello there,” the girl grinned, her eyes wide and unblinking.

Lancet stared at her for two solid seconds. He slowly backpedaled a step.

”You’re creepy,” Lancet said bluntly.

The girl’s grin only widened. ”Yah think?!”

”Hello, hello.”

A second voice, smooth and dripping with malice, slithered from the foliage to his left. A very slender, incredibly tall guy stepped out onto the path.

He wore the standard Academy uniform, but his entire right arm, from the fingertips to the shoulder, was coated in a shifting, viscous red substance that looked terrifyingly like liquid muscle. On his face was a grotesque, stretching grin.

Lancet’s eyes darted between the two of them, confused and terrified. Was he being ambushed?

Then, the heavy sound of leather boots clicking against the cobblestone drew his attention forward.

”When I heard that Astensia Valengard, the great Ironwill of the North, had returned to our century...”

A third figure stepped out from the shadows, blocking Lancet’s route to the dorms. He was exceptionally handsome, with long, striking white hair cascading over his shoulders and a heavily muscled physique.

He wore his Academy uniform like royalty, but on his right shoulder, he bore a gleaming, roaring lion’s head pauldron.

”...but had returned to be a Summon for an ordinary Year One,” the white-haired boy continued, his voice dripping with theatrical disappointment. ”Worse yet, a Year One with a Dull Rank. And even worse... a slum rat from the Eastern district.”

He stopped a few feet away, resting one arm on his chin and looking down his nose at Lancet. ”I was utterly beside myself.”

Lancet looked at the three of them. He glanced at the silver-trimmed sleeves of their uniforms. Year Twos.

Then, the puzzle pieces slammed together. The doll. The red arm. The lion pauldron.

His eyes widened in sudden, absolute recognition.

”I know you guys!” Lancet exclaimed, pointing a finger at them.

The three seniors paused, looking at each other before returning their gazes to Lancet, their faces twisting into identical, evil smiles.

”You’re Linzley, the Haunted Dollmaker,” Lancet said, pointing at the cartwheeling girl.

Linzley giggled madly, grabbing the edges of her uniform skirt and dropping into a mocking, theatrical female curtsy.

Lancet shifted his finger to the tall boy. ”You’re Muskard, the Gruesome Spirit Caller.”

Muskard offered a slow, sweeping bow, his red-coated arm leaving a faint trail of crimson mist in the air.

Lancet finally looked dead-center at the white-haired leader. ”And you’re Caelem, the Ominous Beast Tamer.”

Caelem’s dark grin widened, clearly pleased to be recognized.

”You’re all from Summoner-C,” Lancet continued, his voice dropping as the gravity of the encounter set in. ”You’re known for your sinister partnerships, actions, and your incredibly twisted types of Summons.”

Lancet took a breath. ”You’re the Terrible Three!”

Caelem let out a low, dark chuckle. He adjusted the lion pauldron on his shoulder, his eyes flashing with dangerous intent.

”It seems our reputation precedes us.”

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A/N: I’m seeing the support, and I’m thankful. Please keep it up! ^⁠_⁠^