Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

By the next day, the first phase of the Inter-Class Competitions had reached its end.

Valeria Bloodgood, Grand Dragoon, had run things for the Specialist Class. She turned the Dungeon into her personal slaughterhouse, her spear leaving streaks of golden light that decimated hordes of high-level beasts in seconds.

But Nereus Grimlake was not completely overshadowed. The Shadowmancer blanketed entire caverns in living darkness that swallowed monsters whole.

Because of their monstrous performances, Class Group-A ended with the Specialists taking first place, Summoners securing a hard-fought second, Elementalists lagging in third, and the Enchanters finishing last.

But as explosive as Class Group-A had been, the true spectacle arrived when Class Group-S finally took the stage.

The atmosphere changed the moment they entered the Dungeon Gate. The crowd on the platform rose louder. The commentators sharpened their voices. The stands were packed to the brim, and drones hovered constantly to broadcast the event to the millions watching on televisions across the continent.

The hype was astronomical. Everyone wanted to see the absolute pinnacle of the Awakener Supreme Institute.

And of course, Vernon Heavenblum was the main attraction.

The Elemental Mage practically bent the Dungeon to his whims, unleashing natural disasters with the casual flick of his wrist. Tsunamis, localized earthquakes, and tempests of fire ravaged the simulated environment.

Behind his overwhelming power, the Elementalists easily secured first place. The Specialists came in a close second, followed by the Enchanters in third.

The Summoners, however, came in last. There were barely any students who possessed a Summoner Class powerful enough to qualify for the prestigious Class Group-S, leaving them hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned in the highest bracket.

With the S-Rank runs concluded, the final tallies for the first complete challenge of the Inter-Class Competitions were displayed across the massive holographic screens above the stadium.

[ Dungeon Score Runs - Overall Standings ]

[ 1. Elementalist Class Group - 42,770 ]

[ 2. Specialist Class Group - 38,260 ]

[ 3. Summoner Class Group - 36,400 ]

[ 4. Enchanter Class Group - 33,330 ]

But this was only the beginning. There were nine more challenges to go.

That fact was enough to keep the entire academy restless.

Students in every Class Group started talking at once after the announcement, already arguing over strategy, luck, team composition, and what the next event would demand of them.

Some were planning how to climb higher. Others were muttering about revenge. Some were already seriously preparing for the Tribute Harvest Battles because they had no intention of letting the next round slip away.

Everyone wanted those Tributes!

The instructors looked no calmer than the students.

Except for Miss Maecil. She was actually smiling.

It was not a small smile either. After long weeks of stress and uncertainty, she was relieved to discover that they had not collapsed under the pressure after all. Her expression was tired, yes, and still a little strained, but there was joy in it too. Real joy.

Seeing the Summoner Class Group not sitting in last place after a major competition was a rare, beautiful sight. And knowing that her students—Summoner-D, the absolute bottom of the barrel—were the only ones in the entire faculty to actually secure a first-place finish in their bracket filled her with a desperate kind of hope.

For an instructor who had spent a long time trying to drag Summoner-D out of the bottom of everyone’s expectations, that mattered more than the raw board placement ever could.

The higher-year instructors would have to take her more seriously now. They simply would. And perhaps, if the year went well enough, she might finally get the promotion she had been quietly chasing for much longer than she liked to admit.

In class later, she could not hide how pleased she was.

She stood at the front of the room with the results still fresh in everyone’s minds and thanked them properly, her voice carrying the warmth of praise which had actually been earned.

”You did well,” she said, looking over the room with open pride. ”Very well. I am proud of you.”

Then her expression sharpened with business again.

”We now move on to the Tribute Harvest Battles,” she said. ”And for this one, I have chosen three representatives.”

Her gaze moved across the room, landing on them one by one.

”Luke Travers.”

Lancet glanced toward his former roommate — and friend — at once. Luke, sitting further back, pretended not to notice him.

”Min Tu.”

Min Tu gave the tiniest inclination of her head, the closest thing she usually offered to acknowledgement.

”And Cassandra Bridge.”

Lancet looked toward the furthest corner of the room where Cassandra, the overly busty Spirit Caller, let out a nervous but excited squeak, her friends immediately patting her on the back.

He remembered standing in front of her during the Awakening Ceremony.

Anyway, he was really relieved to be excluded from the Tribute Harvest Battles.

That meant he would not have to worry about being on a hard time limit just to find Espel and get her to heal him in time. He could actually move at his own pace, which right now felt like the closest thing he had to luxury.

Speaking of Espel, finding her was proving to be a massive headache.

He had spent most of the day scanning the sections where Enchanter-S would have been seated, but she had not been there in any obvious way. He had even assumed she would be participating in the Dungeon runs, given her Platinum rank, but it dawned on him that the instructor must have finalized the competitor list before Lancet had actually clicked [YES] on the system.

That meant she was now in the academy somewhere, but not necessarily where he had expected her to be.

So when the school day ended, Lancet made his way toward the Enchanter-S faculty building.

The guard at the entrance looked him up and down with obvious suspicion before asking what a Class Group-D student was doing there.

Lancet delivered his already-made lie.

He claimed that Instructor Estelle Nightingale of Enchanter-D had urgently sent him to deliver a sealed message to her sister, who happened to be the Instructor of Enchanter-S.

Thankfully, the guard bought it.

Lancet walked down the wide, pristine corridors, his footsteps muffled by a magical silencer on the marble floors. The money funneled into Class Group-S was glaringly evident.

The corridors were wider, brighter, and quieter. Through the windows, he could glimpse rooms that looked cleaner, richer, and more deliberately decorated than anything he was used to in the lower-ranked faculty spaces.

It looked like a school for royalty.

He walked slowly, peering through the windows, searching for any sign of the character he had woven into reality just last night.

Nothing. The halls were mostly empty with just a few powerful and prideful looking students talking and walking.

Where was she?

”You.”

...

A voice came from behind him. It was quiet, sharp and annoyed enough to freeze him in place.

For a moment, Lancet stayed like that. Then slowly, he turned.

A figure stepped out from the corner and Lancet’s eyes widened in awe.

It was her.

Espel.

Her eyes fixed on him immediately, and she had this look of hidden frustration. Even though her expression was a chilling, perfect serenity, she was obviously studying him like he was a deeply complicated puzzle.

”Why won’t you get out of my head?” she asked.

Lancet’s breath caught for half a second.

Her gaze sharpened slightly as she studied him more carefully now, no longer just curious but genuinely suspicious.

”Who are you?” she asked.