Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

By evening, the first day of the Inter-Class Competitions finally came to an end.

The Competition Platform, which had spent the entire day roaring with energy, blood, cheers, and the sound of students clawing for points, gradually began to settle into a bruised kind of calm.

The floating cameras eased away from the dungeon routes one by one. The scoreboard over the arena glowed with the final standings, and the students in the tiers of seats watched the numbers with exhaustion and tension.

The upper years, Class Group-C and Class Group-B had each taken their own turn in the competition structure, and while both of them performed respectably, neither had managed to overtake the top of the board.

Class Group-C fumbled their Dungeon run completely, scoring dead last in their bracket. Following right after them, Class Group-B put up a decent fight but only managed to secure third place against their peers.

Because of the severe drop in points from the upper years, the Summoner Class Group ended up barely scraping by to maintain a decent position on the overall leaderboard for the day.

[ 1. Elementalist Class Group - 10,780 ]

[ 2. Summoner Class Group - 8,940 ]

[ 3. Specialist Class Group - 8,910 ]

[ 4. Enchanter Class Group - 8,105 ]

The ranking projected across the platform in bright, authoritative light, while students all over the arena stared at it with reactions ranging from pride to frustration to stunned disbelief.

Tomorrow would feature the main events, bringing out the true monsters of the academy: Class Group-A and, finally, the elusive Class Group-S. The tension in the air was palpable. Things were getting incredibly hot.

But for Lancet, he desperately needed things to cool down.

He needed to think.

That much was obvious.

He found Kasto and the others after the final announcements and said goodbyes before peeling away from the group. There was no ceremony in it. They were all exhausted enough that simple acknowledgment felt like enough for now.

Kasto looked like he wanted to keep talking, but Lancet really needed to get to his Heroine creation.

Lancet made his solitary way back toward the Gold Dorms. The dorm was less crowded than the morning had been, but not by much. Students still drifted through the academy grounds in scattered groups, talking in low voices about rankings, near losses, lucky saves, and which Class Group had looked strongest under pressure.

Lancet passed through them with a tired expression and a slightly loosened posture, the weight of the day hanging off him in a way that made every noise around him sound like a mosquito.

Before he headed home, though, he stopped at the cafeteria store.

The smell of warm food and spices hit him immediately when he entered, and for the first time all day his body reminded him that he had not eaten nearly enough for the amount of violence he had lived through.

He approached the counter with no intention of holding back. Now that Lancet had actual Profits to his name, he wasn’t going to subject himself to the basic rations.

He purchased two massive, steaming bags of fried chicken and a large, ice-cold milk coke.

No reason to brainstorm on an empty stomach.

He carried the food back out into the evening air and made his way to the Gold Dorm, the sunset catching on the academy’s stone and magitech structures in a soft amber glow. When he finally reached his room and stepped inside, he found the room already lit in warm evening tones.

Amira saw him first, her face brightening into an easy, elegant smile.

”Lancet! Congratulations on the win!” she said warmly.

She stepped right into his personal space, her tone exceptionally warm and her presence lingering just a little closer than strictly necessary as she praised his performance.

Sitting on one of the lounge couches a few feet away, Min Tu was already there. The Necromancer’s eyes briefly flicked toward Amira, noticing exactly how closely the other girl was standing to their squad leader.

For a split second, Min Tu’s expression tightened, but she quickly looked away, pretending to be deeply interested in the fabric of her bed to avoid acknowledging it.

”Thanks, Amira,” Lancet replied.

As Amira finally stepped back, Min Tu stood up.

”Welcome back,” she said, a little concern in her voice. ”How are you holding up?”

Lancet held up the bags of chicken to show her. ”Nothing some food can’t fix.”

That earned a small smile from Amira, but there was something else in her expression too: quiet relief. She had been watching him all day, or at least enough to know that the strain of his defective channels had not been trivial.

Lancet looked at her and said, more earnestly now, ”Thanks for what you did back there. Rallying everyone when I froze.”

Min Tu shook her head dismissively, though a faint hint of pink dusted her cheeks again. ”Don’t stress it,” she replied smoothly. ”It’s tough being the leader. If the people around you can’t step in when you actually need it, then what’s their use?”

Lancet’s smile widened. ”Still. Thanks, Minny.”

Min Tu looked away just immediately, her cheeks turning red all over again.

Lancet moved past Soren, who had been sitting nearby with that same clean, observant composure he usually wore, and who now looked at the bags in Lancet’s hands with obvious interest.

”You going to eat all of that?” Soren asked.

Lancet barked out a short laugh. ”Go buy your own.”

Soren gave him a flat look. ”Come on, man.”

”I’m serious, you fatso.”

Lancet crossed toward his curtained section of the room and pulled them open. The privacy of his sleeping area still felt like a luxury he had not fully gotten used to.

He stepped inside, changed out of the heavier outer layers of his clothes, and put on something simpler and easier to move in. The room beyond the curtain was quiet, the light softer, the bed waiting with that ridiculous level of comfort that still made him suspicious every time he sank into it.

He climbed onto his bed, crossing his legs, and opened the first bag of chicken. The savory smell filled his small, enclosed space. He took a massive bite, washing it down with a swig of the cold milk coke.

”Oh, fuck yeah.”

Lancet’s eyes rolled into his brain.

He chewed slowly for a moment while his mind settled into the shape of what came next. Then he summoned the system.

The familiar interface bloomed across his sight in a clean, cold spread of golden light.

[ HEROINE CREATION SYSTEM ]

[ Profile: Lancet Leogardt ]

[ Class: Architect (Brilliant) ]

[ Rank: 1★ Gold ]

[ Level: 19/50 ]

[ Grace: 2005/2250 ]

[ Weapon: Radiant Guillotine ]

[ Power: Omnipotent Character Manipulation ]

[ Skills: Heroine Creation ]

[ Currencies ]

[ CP (Creativity Points): 23700 ]

[ AP (Archetype Keys): 2 (Platinum | Gold) ]

[ Rosters ]

[ Created Heroines: 3 ]

[ Archived Heroines: 0 ]

[ Modules : Creation | Summons | Stats | Relics | Archive | World Weave | Quest Log ]

Lancet stared at the interface for a moment, chewing slowly as the day’s fatigue and the weight of his next decision settled into place behind his eyes.

Then he selected ⸢ Creation ⸥.

The system shimmered once and responded with the next interface.

[ Name ]

[ Appearance ]

[ Personality ]

[ Role Assignment ]

[ Heroine | Villainess | Noble | Civilian | NPC ] ...

Lancet leaned back slightly against the bed, chicken in one hand, thoughts already beginning to take shape.

Alright.

Let’s get started.