Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

The air around him crackled as he launched himself with explosive speed. The bullies barely had time to escape before he brought his palm of blazing thunder down in their center.

The ground boomed.

A wave of force burst outward through the corridor, slamming into all five of them and sending them skidding hard into the walls and floor.

Baroq grunted loudly as his chest hit the stone. The twins cursed in unison. Kallan barely managed to throw up a barrier of lightning before the shock sent him stumbling sideways.

Lancet landed lightly in the middle of them, feet steady, body balanced, the expression on his face still conversational.

”That’s one way to start,” he said.

Cillian snarled and thrust both hands forward, cold air instantly surging from his palms in a white blast that should have frozen the corridor solid.

Lancet grinned. ”Why would I be scared of the cold when I can heat up the air around me?”

Cillian’s eyes widened as he watched his icy air melt into vapor around Lancet, melted by his static lightning.

”This guy... How can you even do that?”

Cecil followed immediately, heat surging from his hands in a brutal red-orange wave meant to force Lancet into the freezing blast’s path. The heat hit first, then the cold from Cillian rushed in from the side to trap him between them.

Lancet snapped his hand out, and a line of lightning cracked across the floor between them, forcing both temperatures to shatter against the discharge in a violent hiss of steam.

”Oh, come on,” Lancet said, sounding mildly disappointed. ”You were supposed to make that look harder.”

Baroq was on his feet and he attacked immediately. ”Aaarrrrrrh!”

The Barbarian moved with surprising speed for someone his size, but Lancet had already seen the motion coming. He slid low beneath the swing of Baroq’s arm, turned with a sharp twist, and drove an elbow into the big man’s ribs hard enough to fold him sideways with a gasp.

Baroq staggered, but Lancet was already gone. He appeared behind the ’Baby Hulk’ and slammed down with both his hands right into the center of Baroq’s spine.

”Fuhhhhhh!” Baroq cried, crumbling to his knees.

Kallan saw it and roared in frustration. Lightning burst around his arms as he drove forward, his face twisted with fury.

”Get him off balance!”

The twins obeyed at once, one throwing out a wave of heat while the other sent a blade of ice slicing from the opposite side.

Lancet spun through the center of both attacks, letting the heat streak past his shoulder while his own lightning flared outward in a sudden pulse that shattered the ice before it could close in on him.

He darted between them, using Flash Feet to move with a speed that made the corridor blur. Lancet slammed his shoulder into Cecil hard enough to send the boy crashing into Cillian.

Both of them hit the wall in a tangle of limbs and curses. ”Stop falling into me!”

”Well stop getting in the way!”

Lancet straightened, cracked his neck once, and smiled. ”Really?” he said. ”You came back with Society upgrades and this is still the best you’ve got?”

Kallan’s face tightened so hard it almost looked painful.

He launched another lightning sphere, larger this time, vicious and unstable, the crackle of it loud enough to shake the corridor’s silence apart. Lancet met it head-on with his own. The two bursts collided in a violent flash that filled the hall with white light and flying sparks.

For a second, Kallan actually looked pleased. Then Lancet stepped through the explosion.

The smoke parted around him and on that his stupid smug face was the most mocking grin.

Kallan’s eyes widened.

”That all you got?”

He moved so fast the others barely saw it.

Kallan threw up both arms instinctively, but Lancet’s strike hit through the guard and into his torso with a crack of lightning-charged force.

The Lightning Mage flew backward, smashed into the corridor wall, and dropped hard to the floor in a heap.

The others froze.

Lancet looked around at the scattered bodies, then exhaled once and rolled his shoulder. ”Honestly, I was hoping for more of a challenge.”

Baroq groaned and tried to push himself up. Lancet stepped on his hand before he could rise fully, using the weight of Astensia’s power to push the Barbarian down.

Baroq dropped back with a muttered curse.

”Don’t,” Lancet said casually. ”You’re making this look worse for yourselves.”

Cillian snarled and tried to lunge in from the side, but Lancet caught him with a sharp kick to the chest that sent him reeling into Cecil again. The twins crashed together in a pile of heat, frost, and frustration.

Lancet tilted his head at them. ”It’s almost like you two magneted to each other.”

Cecil lifted a finger, panting difficulty. ”Shut... up.” The finger fell.

Lancet scoffed, then turned to Stacey who still had not moved.

She looked like she wanted to vanish into the stone itself. Lancet considered it for a moment, then deciding she was trivial, turned back to Kallan.

The Lightning Mage had gotten to one knee by then, his breathing uneven, blood running from the corner of his mouth. His fingers trembled as he tried to gather more lightning, but the spark in his hand refused to fully form.

Lancet walked toward him slowly, each step steady and measured.

”Please,” Kallan begged. ”I don’t know you’re using lightning so easily. But please...”

He kept crawling away. ”Please just stay back. Please!’

Lancet kept walking until he stood directly over him.

Then he knelt and grabbed Kallan by the collar. Kallan’s hand lifted weakly, trying and failing to strike again.

Lancet punched him once. The sound was brutal in the quiet corridor. Bones were certainly breaking.

Kallan’s head snapped sideways, his body collapsing further against the wall.

Lancet hit him again. Harder.

Kallan’s face turned bloody at once, his breathing ragged and wet as he started to slide down. His eyes, once smug and sharp, had gone dull with pain and disbelief.

Stacey gave a tiny whimper.

She had not intended to make any sound, but the noise escaped her anyway as she watched, frozen in place. Every time Lancet’s fist landed, she jolted slightly, her fear making it impossible to look away.

”Ple...ase.” A spray of blood followed the plea from Kallan’s bursted lips.

Lancet kept his grip on Kallan’s collar and leaned in close enough for him to hear him clearly.

”Tell Noctis Dyingbird to stay out of my way.”

Kallan stared at him through swollen, wounded eyes.The words did not register for a second.

Then they did. His expression changed sharply, the shock cutting through the pain for just a moment. Stacey’s eyes widened too, her fear replaced by stunned confusion.

How did he know?

Kallan’s lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. Finally, Lancet let go of his collar and stood.

He glanced at the others once, then turned and walked away as if the entire scene had already become boring to him.

The bullies did not stop him. Not that they could.

He moved down the corridor, leaving them behind in pieces of bruised pride and shattered certainty.

×××××××

Moments later, in a dim student lounge lit by purple neon light, a different kind of silence hung in the air.

The room was decorated with expensive furniture, dark walls, and the quiet confidence of older students who liked their privacy and power in equal measure.

Most of the seats were occupied by fourth- and fifth-years, wearing the most pristine of uniforms and armor. Their expressions were far too calm for people who had just heard bad news.

A few of them looked up when Kallan was dragged into the room’s orbit by the weight of what had just happened, though he was not physically dragged at all. He had simply stumbled into the atmosphere of the place like a man bringing a storm with him.

He dropped heavily into a seat near the edge of the lounge, still bruised, still bloodied, still furious beneath the pain.

One of the older students leaned back in his chair, watching him with detached interest. ”You look terrible.”

Kallan shot him a glare but lacked the energy to answer properly.

His breathing was rough. His knuckles hurt. His face throbbed with every pulse of his own heartbeat. Even so, he forced the words out.

”That’s what he said,” he muttered.

No one spoke at first. Kallan lifted his head just enough to look toward the shadowed end of the room.

”He said your name,” he continued, his voice rough but urgent now. ”I swear it. He called your name. I don’t know how, Lord Cobra, but he knows you’re the head of the Serpent Society.”

The room changed.

At the far end of the lounge, where the purple neon barely reached, the shadows seemed to deepen around a figure who had not moved yet.

Then, slowly, he leaned forward.

He was a young man with chiseled features and a face sharp enough to seem carved rather than born. His black-and-silver hair had been tied back into a ponytail, though a single heavy strand had slipped free and hung along the side of his face.

He was lean, refined, and cold in a way that made every movement seem planned before it happened. Even sitting down, he carried himself like someone far above the others in the room.

In thoughtful silence, he watched Kallan for quite a while, making everyone present wait in the anticipation of his verdict.

Then, in a voice quiet enough to soothe and to scare, he finally spoke.

”Call Clevus.”