Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

The jungle, which had been roaring a moment ago with the sound of those twisted predators, had now fallen into a reverent silence. The monsters did not understand fear the way humans did, but they understood dominance.

They understood when something had stepped into their territory that did not belong beneath them.

Slowly, Spectra lifted one hand.

At first it looked like her red smoke, curling at her shoulders and spreading outward in a slow bloom. Then the shapes began to resolve. Limbs. Claws. Horns. Wings folded tight against hunched silhouettes.

One by one, her children came forward from the smoke as though they were being called from a private sanctuary no one else had been allowed to see.

They poured into the clearing in layered waves, some small and quick, others broad-shouldered and predatory, all of them moving with the coordination of creatures that shared one will.

Some climbed the broken trunks at the edges of the clearing and sprang downward onto the largest beasts. Others darted low across the ground, slashing at legs, knees, ankles, throats, and exposed joints.

The Thunderback Gorillas roared and swung, but the demons moved like smoke around a furnace, never quite where the fists landed.

The battlefield changed in an instant.

Spectra’s swarm of Demons, empowered by the flux of Gloom swirling around them defeated the beasts, clearing them after a few minutes as the students watched in awe.

”Unbelievable!” the announcer declared. ”Spectra, Lancet Leogardt’s Summon just rescued the rest of the students. But why would he do that? If they all went down, they would have had no one to challenge them for the Boss kill!”

Spectra drifted down lightly before them, her demonic swarm still prowling around the edges of the clearing like loyal hunters waiting for a second command. Her expression had relaxed into something sly and observant, almost pleased with the ruin she had caused.

”Reserve your thanks,” she purred. ”Those looks of terror are satisfying enough.”

The students looked greatly exhausted. Mud-streaked. Breathing hard enough to make every inhale sound painful.

Kallan was still half-kneeling in the dirt, one hand planted hard against the ground as though he was using it to keep himself upright. His face was cut and dirty, his expression sharp with rage even under the strain.

Around him, the rest of the Elementalist group looked equally battered. Cecil was bent slightly at the waist, his chest rising and falling with visible effort.

Leslie stared into the clearing with a frustrated, exhausted stillness. Frieda glanced over at Renan’s team, noting that they had lost one of their teammates.

”I am not moving,” Leslie muttered.

”Good,” Cecil said hoarsely. ”Neither am I.”

Frieda let out a tired breath and wiped the back of her hand across her face. ”Enchanters are all out.”

Kallan spat out blood. ”That’s good.” He stared at the route ahead, the muscles in his jaw visibly tight. His fury had not gone away. It had only been forced into a smaller space by exhaustion.

”I just need to retain some energy.”

Renan on the other side had gotten up. After helping his team, they all rested on the trees, needing to regain some energy as well.

Then movement came through the jungle path behind them.

Everyone turned to see Lancet and his team emerge from the route.

”Mhm?” Cecil’s eyes widened.

Unlike the rest of them, Lancet’s team looked fine. There was no tiredness, no sweating, their staminas looked like they were at their fullest.

Without saying anything, they walked down the middle of both teams, straight toward the Boss chamber as though the carnage around them had not changed their momentum at all.

Lancet was at the front, Radiant Guillotine in hand, his expression still focused and sharp. His team followed in a determined formation, ignoring the stares from Specialist and Elementalist-D.

”What is this!” the announcer raved. ”Summoner-D is just heading on to the Boss’s lair. The other two teams are realizing now! They’re tired and weak after that battle, but Summoners weren’t part of that battle. They’re still as agile as cats!”

They did not stop. They did not look back. They kept going straight toward the Boss lair.

Straight past the exhausted fighters sitting in the mud.

Straight past Kallan.

The sight of it hit the Lightning Mage like an insult.

His eyes narrowed the moment he saw Lancet’s back.

”No,” Kallan muttered.

He pushed himself more upright, muscles trembling from the effort. Every movement looked costly now, but the anger in his expression made him seem less tired than he really was. The idea that Lancet’s team was still advancing while his own had been nearly flattened made something ugly twist in his chest.

Cecil felt it too and laughed bitterly. ”Of course they’re still moving.”

Leslie watched the group disappear into the route ahead, her expression flat with fatigue. ”They’re not even hesitating.”

Frieda’s gaze remained fixed on the path for a moment, then flicked to Spectra hovering above them. The demoness’s expression had softened slightly as she looked after Lancet.

The Demoness’ lips moved as though she wanted to speak, to wish Lancet good luck.

But before she could say anything, the red smoke gathered around her edges again, pulling her into Lancet’s Summon Space.

The Demon swarm around them dissipated into shadow and ember-like wisps that sank back into the forest air, leaving the wounded students staring at the space she had occupied.

Kallan clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white.

He looked between Spectra’s fading presence and Lancet’s back disappearing into the jungle ahead, and every line of his body tightened with outrage.

”I’m not letting this happen,” he growled.

His voice was rough from the strain of the battle, but the fury in it made the words sharper than any shout.

Cecil lifted his head weakly. ”Kallan—”

”No.”

Kallan pushed himself upright, swaying a little from the effort, but refusing to stop. His face still carried scratches, his breathing was still uneven, and the fight had clearly left him badly winded, but the anger in his eyes had turned into something colder and more stubborn than simple frustration.

He pointed in the direction Lancet had gone.

”We’re not sitting here while he gets to the Boss first.”

Frieda looked at him, her expression uncertain and tired. ”We’re in bad shape.”

”We’re still alive,” Kallan snapped.

Leslie groaned from the ground, clearly not thrilled by the idea of moving again. ”That’s a very generous use of the word.”

Kallan ignored him.

”Get up,” he said, louder now.

Nobody moved immediately.

He stared at them with a wild, stubborn intensity that made it clear he had no intention of accepting defeat here. ”Get up,” he repeated. ”All of you.”

There was a long, ugly second where it seemed like the only answer would be exhaustion.

Then, grudgingly, the others started moving.

Frieda pushed herself up first, her face tense with discomfort but still obedient to the pull of the moment. Cecil cursed quietly under his breath and got one foot under him. The others struggled into motion as well, wincing, limping, and leaning heavily on one another as they forced their tired bodies to keep going.

Kallan turned on the spot once, checking their state, then looked forward again with a hard scowl.

”We follow them,” he said. ”If Lancet thinks he gets to walk away from this route clean, he’s wrong.”

Slowly, they began to head toward the Boss’s chamber, following Summoner-D’s trail.

Meanwhile, Renan and the rest of Specialist-D were taking their time. Frieda turned to take a final glance at Renan.

They both locked eyes, but the Heavenly Knight looked away first, helping his teammates readjust their armor and weapons.