Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

Suddenly, Lancet outstretched his hand and activated [ Army of One ].

One charge left.

Spectral copies of Lancet burst out from behind him, each one carrying a version of the Radiant Guillotine and lunging for Renan. The first-years in the stands screamed. Kasto stretched his neck.

”No way!”

”Is that—”

”We saw Astensia Valengard use that cloning Skill in the competition!”

”Renan used it too!”

The copies slashed in from multiple sides, uniting to take down the Heavenly Knight. Renan’s eyes narrowed—

—Then he erased them.

First, he cut through the closest clone with a single horizontal slash. The second vanished under a heavenly thrust that broke the image apart. The third was split by a backhanded sweep of Black Gale before the spectral blade even reached him. And the final clone went down seconds later, shattered under Renan’s sword with ease.

Everyone gasped.

Lancet had already expected that, but the speed of Renan’s answer still made his stomach tighten.

Nevertheless, the clones were only a distraction.

He had already moved while Renan’s blade completed the last cut. The real Lancet came in from Renan’s blind side, low and fast, a Thor-boosted burst of speed under his boots and his sword driving straight toward the opening the clones had created.

The attack forced Renan onto the defensive for the first time in several exchanges. The Heavenly Knight pivoted hard, blocked one strike, then another, and was actually pushed backward for a moment by the sudden aggression.

Lancet followed through with everything he had left in that burst.

He slashed. Then feinted. Then cut again.

He drove Renan toward the edge of the arena floor, forcing the main character to retreat in a straight line rather than resetting his angle. The crowd rose again. Even Luke’s head lifted a little in the shadows. Renan looked, for a second, genuinely occupied.

”Lancet is making him retreat!”

But then, in a flash of an eye, everything changed.

Renan’s body turned with the speed of light and the grace of water. Black Gale slid under Lancet’s blade and rotated in a shallow arc that caught Lancet’s wrist, spoiling his grip.

Renan then stepped in with a small heavenly burst at his feet, sliding his body into the exact pocket Lancet did not want him in, and then unleashed a move so precise Lancet felt the arena itself give way under it.

The sword stroke came down like a falling verdict.

Black Gale carved through Lancet’s defense at the angle where his shoulder met his chest, and the force of it sent him flying sideways across the stone floor. Pain burst white-hot through his side.

Everything instantly turned blurry for Lancet. A gasp rose from the crowd all at once, followed by a shriek from several first-years who had just seen blood.

Lancet hit the ground hard enough to skid.

His breath caught.

One hand clamped around the undercurve of his chest where the wound had opened, and the other pushed against the floor to keep him from rolling again. Blood warm against his fingers. The pain stung.

Renan stood where he had landed the blow, Black Gale lowered slightly, the wind moving around him again as though the arena itself had decided to return to his side.

The audience was roaring in shock.

Kasto had half risen from the ledge. ”Lancet!”

Theo’s face had gone pale. ”He actually got him!”

Still, Lancet was only on the ground for a couple seconds.

”Come on, Lancet!” Theo cheered.

With some force, the Architect forced himself upright. But clearly, it was only because Renan didn’t push his advantage.

Lancet breathed once through clenched teeth and looked down at his wound. He had only one charge left. There was no need to carry on. He had lost.

However, despite reason and logic telling him to stop, Lancet lifted his hand over the wound and spent his final charge on a new borrowed Skill.

[ Simple Heal ]

Two Bloomwings emerged in a soft wash of pink. They fluttered around the wound delicately, a gentleness the arena had not seen in the last several minutes.

They perched there, wings emitting lightpores of gold as their magic sank into the cut and pulled it closed beneath them. The pain eased, then vanished.

After hovering for a breath longer, the Bloomwings dissolved into pink sparks.

Everyone stared with shock.

”Did he just... heal himself?”

”Those butterflies!”

”Kinda like Senior Espel Fyrebloom!”

Kasto stared down from the ledge, his mouth opening slightly. ”Those were definitely Bloomwings. Lancet.... What have you gone and done now?”

Renan’s eyes had sharpened with genuine curiosity now, the first real shift in his expression since the duel began.

”How did you do that?” he asked.

Lancet pushed himself back to his feet and gave the slightest smirk, even though he was still feeling the sting under the skin. ”I’m into botany.”

Renan stared. There was a beat of silence.

Then they lunged. The next exchange was vicious.

Lancet had no charges left.

Zero.

Which meant from this point forward, the Phantom Ring was useless in the battle. The fight narrowed into pure sword skill, movement, and timing.

And Renan was still better.

It wasn’t by a ridiculous margin, or in a way that made Lancet useless. But it was obvious enough.

Every time Lancet tried to force the tempo, Renan answered with cleaner footwork, tighter angles, and sword work that made Lancet’s own training feel like the only thing holding him in the fight at all.

He fought harder.

Harder than before.

Harder than he had intended to.

He dug his feet into the floor and pushed. He baited. He feinted. He turned his hips out of cuts by a hair, used his Agility to survive Renan’s pressure, and lashed back with bursts of determination.

The crowd was loud. Kasto was shouting every time Lancet landed a parry. Theo was yelling himself hoarse. Luke had gone still in the shadows again, face turned down, watching silently.

As a combatant himself, Luke noticed something. Renan had fought two duels now, but he wasn’t the one tired.

It was Lancet.

Lancet was quickly running out of stamina, unable to keep up with Renan. He blocked one strike, countered with another, then had to duck under a third while trying not to lose his footing.

Renan remained frustratingly composed, his breathing almost even, his Grace flowing into him in visible pulses that made the air around him shimmer.

Lancet noticed it: How much easier Renan was holding himself together. How much more efficiently the Heavenly Knight was drawing power through his body. And how he was still not close to exhausted.

But Lancet very much was. The fight had gone on long enough for his own shoulders to tighten, his arms to feel heavier, his lungs to work harder. He was still dangerous, forcing the duel to continue. But the edge had shifted.

Renan had not broken him yet, but he was getting closer with every exchange.

Then Renan moved with a precision that Lancet had not seen before in this battle.

Black Gale slid under his guard. Lancet tried to twist out of it but Renan stepped with him.

To counter, Lancet slashed high. But that only allowed Renan to slip inside.

Then, the Heavenly Knight’s blade flashed upwards and Lancet was disconnected with the Radiant Guillotine.

The golden sword was ripped free from Lancet’s grip and it spun high into the air as Renan’s shoulder turned, bringing Black Gale with him and stopping it right in front of Lancet’s throat.

Silence.

Renan’s expression was cool, unreadable, and utterly certain.

”You lose, Lancet.”