Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

The rest of the competition proceeded as expected. Class Group-C took the stage next with Summoners getting last yet again, Specialists getting third, Enchanters second and Elementalists first.

It seemed that whatever Class Group-D managed to accomplish, whether it was Summoners getting a high score or Elementalists getting a low one, Class Group-C was set out to flip those results.

Next went Class Group-B. To the surprise of many, Summoners fought to the second position. Although Elementalists made it to first, because Enchanters got third and Specialists came last, Summoners were now the second in overall scores amongst all Class Groups.

[ Elementalists : 5700 ]

[ Summomers : 3950 ]

[ Enchanters : 3655 ]

[ Specialists : 3650 ]

Elementalists were skyrocketing away, leaving the rest fighting amongst themselves for the second and third spots. The competition was so tight that Enchanters were only five points ahead of Specialists in the overall score.

With the main events tomorrow—Class Group-A and Class Group-S—the Tribute Harvest would officially have its winner.

Lancet sighed as he got up from his seat in the stands, the noise of cheering students buzzing in the back of his mind. He wasn’t a betting man, but if he had to, he was placing his bet on Elementalists winning the whole thing.

With Nereus Grimlake in Class Group-A, Lancet was certain Summoner-A would put up a good fight and stay second. But that was if Nereus was even selected.

Not to forget, Specialists also had Valeria Bloodgood fighting for them. If the Grand Dragoon was also selected, then Summoner-A’s second position was not all too guaranteed.

Lancet let out a sigh as he waved goodbye to Kasto. He was supposed to carry Summoners to victory—at least, that was what he had decided to do. So, it was what he was going to do.

But that meant this defective Grace had to be a thing of the past. He had to meet up with Espel so they could both get to work.

Finding her, thankfully, wasn’t that difficult.

Lancet had found something out that morning when he was following a strange feeling—like a living thread in his chest— guiding him. He walked past the normal campus areas where one would find students like him, and he found himself standing just by the canteen that was exclusive for Class Group-S.

Just a few feet away, he found Espel. She was drinking from a yogurt carton she’d just purchased, and talking to her freakishly tall brother, Rattlesnake himself.

Lancet realized that using the tether that connected him and Espel, or any other Bound Summon, he could find them easily. No matter where they were in the world.

So, he quickly interacted with the tether, tugging onto the thread to lead him to where Espel was.

The pneumatic hum of the transport tube vibrated through the soles of Lancet’s boots as he lowered down to the Academy ground.

Once his feet touched the ground, he stepped out into the humid evening air, letting the crowd surge past him toward the dormitories. Once he cleared the main terminal gates, Lancet paused near a massive stone pillar and closed his eyes.

He focused inward, bypassing the sluggish, aching warmth of his broken Grace channels, and searched for the unique signature of his first Bound Summon.

There it was. Deep within his chest, right beside his soul core, a distinct and heavy sensation manifested. Unlike his Summon Space that had a thumping rhythm to it, the thread was more silent, doing a swimming motion as if it was moving through waves of his Grace.

The thread anchored itself to his ribs and stretched out into the campus. It was a literal compass. When he turned his torso to the left, the thread went slack; when he turned back toward the eastern quadrant, the thread lit up again.

’Convenient,’ Lancet thought. ’No matter where she goes in this world, she can’t clip the leash.’

He followed the tether. Lancet navigated through the Academy buildings that he was now becoming all too familiar with. He weaved past the crowded central plaza where the holographic leaderboards still flashed the day’s final standings.

The thread pulled him away from the bustling sectors, the path that led to the abandoned training arena, and the lower-tier dorms. It guided him steadily toward the pristine areas that were mostly overrun with the Class Group-S students..

The tracking thread led him past a row of towering marble pillars and cut sharply into one of the gardens frequented by the Academy’s highest-ranking students. The noise of the campus died down, and now it was ambience, the sound of leaves, and a breath of extremely fresh air.

Lancet stepped through a high, ivy-draped stone archway, and his foot sunk into soft green grass. The pull in his chest glowed brighter now, blared in fact, as if to tell him he had found her.

He looked up.

A few yards away, sitting on a bench beneath a weeping willow, was Espel. She was wearing a form-fitting white tunic today, though her long dark hair with its distinctive pink shading still fell perfectly over her shoulders.

She wasn’t looking at him, though Lancet had a feeling that she knew he was here. There was a pink butterfly sitting on her finger, and her piercing cyan eyes watched it, detached from the rest of the world.

Lancet knew not to say anything. He just walked up by her and sat on the bench, watching her watch the butterfly.

After a while, Espel’s lips parted softly to speak. ”Which is your favorite?” she asked. ”Butterflies...”

A dark purple energy waved through the butterfly’s body, transforming it to another winged insect.

”...or moths?”

Lancet looked at the moth for a while. The wings were not as pretty as the butterfly’s. Not just because of the darker color but the shape of them as well. There was no reason for him to philosophize what he already knew.

He sighed and sat back, resting his elbows on the head of the bench. ”I would be lying if I didn’t say butterflies. They’re prettier.”

Espel looked at him. ”Is that all that guides your morality? Beauty?”

Lancet downturned his lips. ”Well I didn’t say it was moral. I just said I liked them better.”

She returned her gaze to the butterfly, as if disappointed. ”That is all morality is. What we like is good. And what we hate is bad. If you had to, you’d kill a moth to save the butterfly. All because of its beauty.”

The moth faded away. ”To be ugly is a crime.”

Lancet watched her from the corner of his eyes, then smiled a little. ”Heh. You sound like the guy who couldn’t get a date to prom.”

She shot him a blank side-eye. Lancet fell silent.

”My brother doesn’t like you, you know,” she said some seconds after. ”Actually none of the Society does. Clevus Cattenham is presently trying to get you to shake his hand so he can steal your powers.”

”Yeah,” Lancet chuckled. ”I kinda figured that out.”

He then looked at her. ”Wait. Are you telling me this cause you’ve agreed to help take down the Serpent Society?”

She looked at him. ”If you agree to protect my brother.”

”Yes, I will,” Lancet said fervently. ”I promise! I just need you to be my eyes and ears for what’s happening inside there. Especially things that have to do with me.”

Espel was silent for a while before replying, ”I can do that.”

Lancet smiled. ”Great.”

She looked at him, her hair flowing, eyes glinting with the first emotion she’d shown since he came: curiosity. ”So we’re in agreement?”

”Yes,” Lancet nodded, staring at her. She couldn’t confess it but it seemed this was her first time being in any sort of deal with another person.

”This is my first time forming a pact with someone to achieve separate goals,” she said.

Lancet frowned. I guess she would confess it.

”I wonder what would come of it,” she added.

Lancet didn’t know what to say to that. He waited for a while, wondering how to bring up his Grace Channels problem. When no idea came to mind, he simply blurted it out.

”What about the other deal,” he asked sheepishly. ”I still really need to fix my Grace Channels.”

She looked at him, her face suddenly turning all serious. ”But you’re supposed to have sex with me first.”

Lancet’s eyes widened.

”Are you trying to deceive me?” she said suddenly. ”This is what they call ’swindling’ right? You’re trying to swindle me, aren’t you??”

”No, no,” Lancet pushed his hand forward, waving them frantically. ”I’m not trying to deceive or swindle you. I’ll definitely have sex with you! Definitely. In fact, I’ll have sex with you right now!”

Espel continued to glare at him for a while. Then, the defensive anger vanished from her face and she returned to her natural, neutral expression.

”Alright,” she said.