Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

The next two days blurred into a relentless storm of steel, sweat, and Grace.

From dawn until long after the sun had set, Lancet barely had time to breathe. The selected vanguard had been isolated in the Grand Combat Training Hall, where Wolfgar Windviper and his team turned the massive chamber into literal hell.

Every hour, they ran drills, read notes, studied formations and tactics of how previous parties had led successful raids into various Demon Breaks.

Each member of the party, no matter how minor their role, was put through a multitude of physical exercises. And sometimes, the usual sparring.

The air constantly hummed with the crackle of spells, the clash of weapons, and the shouts of instructors pushing everyone to their absolute limits.

Despite his hidden resentment for how he was being treated, Lancet looked forward to the training on both nights. Yes, it was torture. But good torture.

...If that was a thing.

Lancet was pushed to his absolute physical and magical apex.

His routine was brutal: cycle his Grace, anchor his summons, run evasion drills under gravity-wells, and then the simulations.

The simulations were the tough part. Basically, all the members of the vanguard were sent into a fabricated Demon Break—one that happened in Riddlebridge but was ultimately stopped by a powerful party.

There, Lancet and others had to play their roles to perfection. Whenever anyone faulted, they received a scolding from Wolfgar.

”This is only a simulation, so your mistakes might not mean much. But out there in Hebthej, one mistake can cost the life of many! Get your act together, focus and go again!”

And they did. They cleared the simulated Demon Break in three consecutive successful runs before Wolfgar had his full.

Under the instructors’ request, Lancet summoned Astensia and Thor every single session.

The two legendary heroines became central figures in the planning.

They completely commandeered the tactical planning. In the center of the War Room, Thor stood over the holographic map of Hebthej, pointing her silver hammer like an executioner’s blade as she argued with Vernon about the offensive approach.

”But I can do it!” Vernon defended his abilities. ”I’m an Elemental Mage. I don’t need a babysitter. If you stay out of my way, I’ll burn the rot out of the clock tower myself.”

Thor laughed, a harsh, crackling sound that made the hair on the students’ arms stand up. ”Stop with grandstanding, boy. As an Elemental Mage, perhaps you’ll grow to be more powerful than I one day. But now, your strengths are needed elsewhere. Let me handle the Demon Head.”

Again, grudgingly, Vernon agreed. Wolfgar had already made his decision anyway. The student barely had a choice.

Astensia took a completely different approach.

The golden knight spent her time with Class Groups B, C, and D. Lancet watched from the sidelines, downing another cylinder of Magical Supplements, as Astensia knelt to meet the eye level of Frieda Castleloft, who was still nervous about the battle.

”You do not need to fear, dear,” Astensia said gently, her voice carrying a profound, soothing weight.

She looked up at the rest of the evacuation team. ”When we arrive, I will establish a perimeter around the smuggler tunnels. You focus on moving the civilians. I swear upon my sword, no Demon will lay a claw on the evacuation line while I draw breath.”

Renan took a step forward and nodded with conviction. ”We’ll make sure the path is clear for you, Lady Astensia.”

After that, they moved into full-scale simulations using the prediction of Hebthej’s present situation. The hall’s enchanted floor transformed into replicas of Hebthej’s streets — burning buildings, collapsing rooftops, screaming civilians, and hordes of demons rushing from every alley.

Lancet worked alongside his teammates, learning to carefully transport the civilians while defending against the Demons that sneaked in.

However, with Astensia, barely any Demons penetrated into the tunnels. And as Thor had said, she killed the Demon Head easily.

Still, this was only a simulation. Everyone had it at the back of their minds that the actual raid wouldn’t be that easy.

By the end of the second day, Lancet’s body ached in ways he hadn’t known were possible. But he was improving. Noticeably.

That afternoon, during the recess before another session, Lancet slipped away from the main group and made his way to the Class Group-D Grace Hall.

The room’s high ceiling was supported by thick, square pillars engraved with magical runes that glowed when Grace was being absorbed.

The floor seemed to be made from sapphire or some kind of purple stone that had been specially treated to absorb and safely dissipate excess magical energy.

Scattered across it were several circular meditation platforms — raised stone discs about three meters wide, each surrounded by smaller concentric rings of glowing runes that helped stabilize Grace flow and prevent accidental Gloom leakage.

Along the walls were recessed alcoves containing heavy wooden benches and shelves holding various training aids: crystal orbs for measuring Grace density, vials of stabilizing elixirs, and thick tomes on Separation Theory.

Soft, bluish-white light came from floating crystal lanterns suspended at different heights, creating a calm but slightly clinical atmosphere.

Unlike the more luxurious Grace Halls used by higher Class Groups (which had private chambers, luxurious cushions, and advanced monitoring arrays), the D-rank version felt more utilitarian and worn.

Some of the rune carvings on the pillars were chipped or faded from overuse, and a few of the meditation platforms showed visible cracks and scorch marks from past accidents.

Miss Estelle Nightingale was already waiting for him, standing alone near the center of the quiet chamber in a purple gown this time. The blood-red streaks in her raven hair caught the soft light as she turned to face him.

”You came,” she said simply.

Lancet bowed slightly, still breathing hard from training. ”Of course, Professor. Thank you again for agreeing to teach me.”

Estelle studied him for a long moment, her Empath abilities clearly scanning his aura.

”Congratulations on being selected for the vanguard,” she said, although her tone was too plain for Lancet to tell whether or not she meant it.

”Uhm... thank you, Miss Nightingale.”

”We had already planned everything before you were selected,” Estelle turned away. ”The instructors discussed your... unusual growth. Your summons. Your sudden jump in Talent rank.” She tilted her head slightly. ”You are becoming quite the interesting variable, Lancet Leogardt.”

Lancet gave a small, tired smile. ”Thanks again... I guess.”

Estelle’s expression didn’t change, but her tone carried a rare note of warning.

”When you return from Hebthej, we will begin the Open Pores technique. Be prepared to be deconstructed and rebuilt. It is not gentle. Many have broken trying to master it.” She paused. ”And do not rely too heavily on Magical Supplements to recover your Grace during the mission. They are a crutch that will fail you at the worst possible moment.”

Lancet stared at her, the warning already imprinting in his mind. Then he nodded seriously. ”Understood.”

Estelle gave the smallest incline of her head. ”Good luck, then. Try not to die.”

Lancet left the Grace Hall and headed back to training. Over the remaining two days, he’d noticed that the atmosphere in the Academy had shifted.

Wherever Lancet walked now, students parted for him. The combination of his new Gold student card, his unprecedented jump to Brilliant rank, and his vanguard selection, had changed everything.

Some looked at him with open respect. Others with naked jealousy. A few with clear fear, as if they were waiting for him to suddenly snap and summon his legends in the middle of the hallway.

His roommates were the only ones who felt normal.

Kasto and Anita were openly supportive. Kasto kept bringing him extra food from the cafeteria (”You need to keep your strength up, man!”), while Anita constantly asked questions about the mission, her puppet Summon perched on her shoulder like a worried little guardian.

Luke remained his usual brooding self in public, but in the quiet moments back in their Bronze dorm room, he gave Lancet small, practical tips. He never said it outright, but his actions spoke clearly: he had Lancet’s back.

The biggest change, however, was in Lancet’s own system.

With the Brilliant rank reevaluation, his Grace Retention had skyrocketed. His present was still 1250, but the limit was now an insane 25,000 MP. The jump was so massive it still made his head spin every time he thought about it.

’If I can actually reach even half of that...’ he thought during one quiet moment, staring at his status window. ’Learning Open Pores after this mission would mean I could anchor multiple heroines at once and still use the Ring to channel most of their powers.’

All he needed was EXP to increase his Grace Retention. At least to 10,000 MP.

One of the most productive ways to get that was to kill as many Demons as possible in Hebthej. However, being in the evacuation team meant that wasn’t possible.

There was still another route though.

Lancet just had to kill the Demon Head.