Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

Across the arena, the remaining Terrors were being dismantled completely.

Lancet was worried that his Grace would run out before the battle finished, and he could tell that was exactly what the Terrible Three wanted to happen.

So, he yelled an order to his summons just as he was dodging the dozens of spirit hands reaching for him.

”Astensia! Thor! Go all out! Don’t worry about me!” he cried. ”They’re trying to stretch this as long as possible! I know you’re using this chance to regulate your output, but holding out is spending my Grace for nothing!”

With the assurance from her master, Astensia turned back to the Terrors, her eyes narrowing and showing a golden rage.

Mummy’s floating head and Big Foot looked utterly terrified.

Mummy tried to call back her flying body parts but that only made matters worse for the giant doll.

Immediately, Astensia planted her golden shield and roared—a sound that belonged on an ancient battlefield, not in an underground academy arena. ”Glorious Hurricane Blade! ”

Her sword became a whirlwind. Golden slashes erupted in every direction, a cyclone of blessed steel that shredded the disjointed Mummy pieces mid-air.

Spectral threads snapped like rotten strings. Linen wrappings dissolved into ash. The creature let out a haunting, echoing wail like a thousand dry throats screaming at once before it collapsed and crumbling into multiple pieces.

Thor leaped high and returned like a lightning boomerang, her warhammer spinning over her head like a helicopter rotor. ”Judgement of Storm!”

A pillar of raw lightning crashed down from the arena ceiling. It struck a cluster of Enenra wraiths dead center.

Two clones disintegrated instantly, their shadowy forms evaporating like morning mist. The real Enenra tried to flee again as smoke, slipping through the cracks in the stone floor, but Thor’s follow-up was faster.

She slammed the butt of her hammer against the ground. A dome of electricity erupted around the escaping wraith, trapping it, cooking it.

The Enenra screeched and vanished in a burst of grey vapor.

Big Foot swung wildly at Astensia, its massive arms creating wind gusts that sent dust spiraling. Astensia parried with her shield, catching each blow with a clanging sound that echoed through the arena.

Astensia parried the third then struck the Beast on the face with the shield. When it stumbled, she threw the shield, hitting it on the chest with the edge.

”Chains of Heaven!” she cried!

Suddenly, shining chains made of iron grabbed the arms of the powerful beast, holding it bare for her to send the Blessed Blade straight through its stomach.

The Sasquatch howled, and when the Chains of Heaven released its arms, it dropped to its knees, and then to the floor. It faded back into Caelem’s summoning circle, a translucent outline that winked out of existence.

The Banshee, Bathsheba, was left. High above, it yelled a sonar blast that caused both Heroines to cover their ears.

Thor, angered, spun her warhammer, generating a small storm of lightning around its head. She shot bolts out of her free hand to the floor which elevated her even with the sonic sound waves pushing her down.

”Lightning Spear Strike!”

Like a giant lance of blue storm, Thor flew rapidly and struck the Cursed Spirit right on the open jaw.

KABOOM!

The snakes on its head cried alongside the spirit and it fell and crashed on the ruined floor, before dissipating into wherever Muskard summoned it from.

Back on Lancet’s side of the fight, Caelem forced himself up one last time.

Blood trickled from his split lip, from a cut above his eye, from the corner of his mouth. His arm and other powers had disappeared since his summons had returned to his Summon Space.

His face was a ruin of rage and disbelief, but underneath that, something else. Something that looked almost like fear.

He looked at Lancet—this Dull-Rank, this slum rat, this nobody—and saw someone else entirely.

”This can’t be happening! No!” Caelem bellowed, his voice cracking. ”The Terrible Three are destined to be a force to reckon with! We’re meant to make big moves in this world! That’s why our powers are special!”

He staggered forward one step. Then another. His fists were raised, but they were shaking.

He lunged at Lancet one last time, a desperate, swinging haymaker.

Lancet stepped inside. The Conduit Ring still glowed on his finger, 14 were charges remaining, but he didn’t need them. Not for this.

He caught Caelem’s wrist, and drove a knee into his gut. As Caelem doubled over, Lancet delivered a crushing elbow to the back of his neck.

”You might have special powers,” Lancet said, his voice colder than usual. ”But you won’t do or become anything special... Simply because you all just suck.”

Caelem’s face contorted.

Lancet finished the motion, a heavy kick to the temple sending Caelem into the dirt.

On the battleground, the last of the Terrors flickered and vanished.

The underground arena fell suddenly, almost eerily quiet.

Astensia returned her sword to the scabbard in her back. Her breathing was steady despite the battle, shield glistening on her arm. She turned to Lancet with a proud nod, her golden hair matted with dust.

”That was commendable fighting, Master.” Her voice was warm, genuinely impressed. ”You used everything we trained perfectly. I saw how precise your footwork was, and your timing with the funnel was flawless as well.”

Thor planted her warhammer on the ground and folded her arms. Her electric-blue eyes narrowed. Her expression was grudging, she knew Lancet was growing to be a good fighter and hated admitting it.

”It was... fine.”

Lancet smiled, accepting the remark. For Thor, that was practically a standing ovation.

The two Legends walked over to Lancet and looked down at the groaning trio. Linzley was starting to stir, her fingers twitching toward her fallen bat. Muskard’s red arm had stopped smoking, its glow faded to a dull ember. Caelem was still completely unconscious, snoring softly through his split lip.

Astensia tilted her head. ”What do we do about these ones?”

Thor’s hand tightened on her hammer. ”Kill them?”

Astensia immediately shook her head, her expression stern. ”That is too far, Thor. They are defeated. There is no honor in slaying the fallen.”

Thor was amused. ”You seek honor from these idiots?”

Astensia narrowed her eyes. ”Not from them. Honor is intrinsic,Thor, not given.”

Lancet wiped a streak of dust from his cheek, watching the Terribles as his Heroines argued.

Then he smiled. ”Guys?”

”Mhm?” Thor and Astensia turned to him.

”I have a better idea.”