Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

Verdrak exploded first. ”Have you lost your mind?! A Human Citadel in Gehenna? We can barely hold our own territory! You want us to establish a foothold in the heart of the enemy’s domain? This is madness!”

”Verdrak,” Obel warned.

”No! I will not be silent while this... this warmonger suggests we throw our armies into a meat grinder! The logistics alone are impossible! This will cost thrillions of Notes, we can’t—”

”Verdrak.” Romsgard’s voice cut through the tirade like a blade. The Council Member fell silent, his face red, his hands trembling.

On the screens, the Sovereigns were wary.

Even Ronald, for all his love of war, was quiet, his weathered face thoughtful.

’I always liked this guy,’ Lancet thought, watching Alistair Bane with undisguised admiration.

Thor was quick to agree. ”Finally! Someone who speaks sense! We’ve been cowering behind our walls for too long! It’s time to show those Demon bastards what it feels like to be hunted!”

Astensia nodded slowly, her bright blue eyes burning with a cold fire. ”I agree. It is time for retribution.” Her voice was steady, but there was steel beneath it. ”The Demons used our greatest strength against us... our capacity for trust. They took our hope for peace and twisted it into a weapon. That insult cannot go unanswered.”

Spectra smiled, leaning back in her chair with the lazy grace of a cat. ”I’m always a fan of invading Gehenna. In fact, I was one of the first to do it.”

Every head in the room turned toward her.

The room was silent. Everyone knew the chilling story of how Spectra Hexerra, the Mother of Demons, had invaded the bloody capital of Gehenna and claimed one of the Demon Lords as her Summon.

It was a tale told in whispers, a legend that bordered on myth. Some people even started to think it was a fable. But it wasn’t. And Spectra was proof that Alistair’s plan could be done.

”I stand with the invasion,” Kestrel said, her voice cool and precise. ”My Dragonswords have tasted Demon souls. They hunger for more.”

Espel didn’t care either way. Invasion or no invasion. She found human anger to be interesting. She’d never actually been angry before but seeing what the Council were willing to do because they were crossed, she imagined it was a very motivating emotion.

Alistair Bane looked at them, respect in his mighty eyes.

”Then we are agreed in principle,” he said.

Astensia and Thor exchanged a glance. Then Lancet spoke.

”But... there’s something you need to know first.” He leaned forward, his expression serious. ”Something we encountered in Deathrock that changes the strategy of any invasion.”

Alistair turned his gaze on him. ”Tell me.”

”The Purgatory Demons.”

The name hung in the air like a curse.

Verdrak looked worried. He glanced at his fellow Councils then scoffed quickly. ”You’ve said that before. Stop with this fairy tale!”

”The Purgatory Demons are real!” Astensia snapped at the old man, her glorious tone silencing him instantly. She turned to Spectra. ”Explain it, Spectra.”

Spectra smirked. ”Don’t mind if I do, gold knight.”

She turned her attention to the Councils and Sovereigns. ”Purgatory is a prison-seal,” she began. ”It holds Demons so dangerous, so soaked in Gloom, that the Demon Lords themselves could not tame them. They carry corruption with them in thick clouds. They move faster than any normal Demon. They are unhinged, relentless, driven by nothing but rage and despair. Even the Demon Lords fear them. That’s why they were locked away.”

”Millions of them,” Kestrel added, still shaken by the image they saw back in Deathrock. ”Millions of creatures that make Descending Demons look like children’s toys. And the Demon Lords have found a way to weaponize them.”

Spectra raised her hand, and magenta energy swirled around her palm. From the vortex, one of the Purgatory Demon Souls she claimed manifested.

It writhed in her grip, its form shifting between hound and humanoid, its movements jerky and fast even in death. The Gloom that radiated from it was palpable, a thick red miasma that made the air feel heavy and cold.

”Even under my control,” Spectra said, ”it is wild. Fast. Saturated with Gloom. The only difference is that now it channels its corruption according to my will. But in its natural state,” she let the soul snap its jaws at the air, ”it would kill anything with a pulse.”

The Sovereigns looked very worried now. Especially Romsgard. The Council Members fell into their own minds, thoughts of fear and concern plaguing them.

Verdrak had gone very still. His face was pale, his pointed beard limp. He was staring at the soul with an expression like he couldn’t believe it was here.

Lancet noticed it. The old geez looked like a man who had just been caught in a lie.

Alistair studied the soul tactically. ”How many did you face?”

”A fragment,” Spectra replied. ”Not even half of a quarter. Just the tiniest sliver of the seal. And it was enough to destroy an army.”

”It nearly killed her,” Lancet said quietly. ”She had to fight them alone. The Gloom was too dense for the rest of us. Even with her power, even with her resistance, the overdose almost—” He stopped himself.

Spectra waved a hand dismissively. ”I’m still here, dear Master. No need for the tragic pause.”

Alistair was silent for a moment. Then he produced a small device from his coat, a scanner, sleek and silver, and aimed it at the Demon soul.

”I’ll study the readings. Unfortunately, this is a soul, not a physical specimen. No Demon Binder can extract it from her. Demon Necromancy is... a rare Class Advancement.”

”Unique, actually,” Spectra said with a small smile.

”Unique,” Alistair echoed. He pocketed the scanner. ”Then we’ll prepare countermeasures. Armor upgrades to resist high-density Gloom. Defensive formations to contain the corruption. The Golden Blacksmiths are going to be very busy.” He looked at the Council, then at the Sovereigns. ”We must be ready for this invasion. If it is to go through.”

Romsgard was quiet for a long moment. Everyone was awaiting his verdict. He looked at Odesto... Odesto nodded.

He looked at Liu Xiu... She nodded.

His eyes went to Avanke... Avanke nodded.

And of course, Ronald bounced his head like a kid who had just been offered an ice cream cone.

With the full backing of his fellow Sovereigns, Romsgard spoke.

”This has to be done. It’s time for humanity to show some backbone.” He looked at Alistair Bane with the respect of one leader to another. ”President Bane, how would you go about this invasion?”

Alistair raised his hand and switched the map above the obsidian table. The holographic map of the world transformed into the map of Gehenna.

It was incomplete, fragmented, pieced together from centuries of scouting missions and captured intelligence. But it was enough.

”Aside from Hellfyre, the main capital, Gehenna has six minor capitals,” Alistair said, pointing to each in turn. ”Gorath’mun, the City of Screaming Spires. Vorlagg, the Iron Maw. Helspire, the Burning Depths. Kravenholm, the Shadow Forge. Malachar, the Pit of Teeth. And Netharos, the Black Mass.”

Romsgard leaned forward. ”You want us to claim a minor capital. Make it a citadel.”

”Yes.” Alistair’s voice was iron. ”We strike at one of the six. We establish a foothold. A Human Citadel in the heart of Gehenna. From there, we can launch further operations. Disrupt supply lines. Gather intelligence. And most importantly...”

He looked around the room. ”...we show the Demon Lords that humanity is no longer content to wait for the next attack. We bring the war to them.”

He gave them a quick glimpse of the overall strategy. He explained how the initial assault would require a coordinated strike from multiple fronts, how the citadel would need to be self-sustaining with its own Grace barriers and supply chains, how the Kingdom Rangers would lead the vanguard while Awakeners secured the perimeter.

It was not a full plan. It was the skeleton of one. But it was enough.

When he finished, the Sovereigns were silent. Then, one by one, they spoke.

”President Bane,” King Odesto said, his serene voice carrying a note of genuine admiration, ”you live up to your legend. No one understands warfare as you do.”

Avanke inclined her head. ”You have our gratitude. And our support.”

Liu Xiu smiled faintly. ”The world owes you a great deal.”

Ronald laughed, his falcon screeching in accompaniment. ”Finally! A war worthy of my military forces! I’ll send my best warriors. They’ve been getting fat and lazy!”

Romsgard nodded slowly. ”You have our permission to leave and begin preparations. We will convene a full council at the Golden Barracks. There, we will form the army and the full strategy for the first ever human invasion into the Second World.”

Alistair Bane stood and bowed. ”Thank you, your Majesties.”

Then he turned.

He faced Lancet and the Heroines. And to the surprise of everyone in the room, he bowed again. It was mostly for the Heroines, not for Lancet exactly.

”I hope,” he said, straightening, ”that we can count on the Ironwill Knight and her fellow legends for this major shift in history.”

Astensia rose to her feet. Her bright blue eyes met his, and she placed a hand over her heart. ”You have my word, President Bane. We will be there.”

Alistair nodded at her then looked down at Lancet who just couldn’t stop staring at the cool looking man.

”Mr. Leogardt.” Alistair offered him a handshake.

Lancet stood and accepted. The President’s grip was like iron wrapped in leather.

”You are a gem,” Alistair said, his flint-grey eyes boring into Lancet’s. ”A figure the world didn’t know it needed. We lost many great heroes in the past. To think that through you can bring them back.”

He paused. ”For a long time, I’ve had hope. Now, because of you, I have certainty. The Demons will meet their end, and we shall fully reclaim our world.”

Lancet nodded, his throat tight. ”I hope I can live up to that expectation.”

”Don’t pressure yourself.” Alistair squeezed his shoulder. ”You are not powerful, Lancet Leogardt. You’re talented. Talent is natural. It rises in times of pressure.”

He stepped back, his gaze sweeping across the Heroines one final time. ”I’ll be keeping a good eye on your progress. Feel free to visit the Golden Barracks. I’m sure our warriors could use the confidence when they meet some of the legends that helped save the world.”

He turned and marched out of the war room, his footsteps echoing on the black stone.

Lancet watched him go with a smile.

The door closed. Silence took over once again. And Obel cleared his throat.

”Now that that is over,” the Council Lord said, ”I think it’s fair to say that we all owe you an apology.”