Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

Lancet and Espel parted ways at the edge of the green field. The morning bells had not yet rung, but students were already beginning to filter towards the main buildings, their voices carrying across the open air.

”I should go,” Espel said. ”It would be... complicated if people saw us together.”

Lancet nodded, understanding.

”Lancet,” she said, pausing before she turned away. Her blank expression changed for a little bit before returning just as fast. ”I’d like to talk to you later.”

Lancet frowned a little bit, wondering through a myriad of possibilities of what she wanted to talk about. Maybe it was about her brother, or about her powers, or about sex.

He couldn’t guess with her.

”Of course,” he said. ”Whenever you’re ready.”

Espel nodded once, then turned and walked away, her footsteps silent on the stone path. Lancet watched her go until she disappeared around the corner that led to the Enchanter-S faculty building.

Then he was alone.

He remained on the field for a while, the morning wind stirring the grass around his boots. The Academy’s spires rose before him, their gothic-sci-fi architecture catching the last rays of the setting sun. In the distance, he could hear the faint clash of training weapons and the tolling of the bell tower.

Well, now my entire focus is on the person who started this whole ordeal in the first place.

Renan Falconhart.

Before everything that happened in Deathrock, Lancet had told himself that after this journey, he would level up without worrying about looking too overpowered.

He had earned the EXP. And he was getting really tired of hoarding his boon and holding back his potential just to appease people.

But back then, he had forgotten that he was already at Level 25.

And that had not been by choice too. The system had forced him to level up so he could claim rewards and ultimately the nerf that was Fairplay Policy.

Now, standing in the quiet of the evening field, the reality of that number settled over him.

Level 25.

Renan Falconhart was only Level 20. And even at five levels higher, Lancet still hadn’t been able to beat him.

That stung now that he realized it.

It also made things complicated. If he leveled up now, if he poured his EXP into his stats and shot up to Level 30 or even 35, he would almost certainly defeat Renan.

The sword mastery Kestrel had drilled into him on the mountain, combined with the raw stat advantage, would be more than enough.

But the victory would feel hollow. Bleak. It wouldn’t be a victory earned through skill and training. It would be a victory bought with numbers.

Lancet found that to be unfulfilling.

He wanted the reason for winning to be the training he had done on top of that mountain. The lightning baths. The hours of sparring with Kestrel until his muscles screamed and his blades sang.

He wanted to win because he had become a better fighter, not because he had simply out-leveled his opponent.

He took a breath and pulled up his profile.

The translucent golden screen materialized before his eyes, its familiar layout grounding him in the present.

[ Profile: Lancet Leogardt ]

[ Class: Architect (Brilliant) ]

[ Rank: 2★ Gold ]

[ Level: 25/50 ]

[ Grace: 2/2250 ]

[ Weapon: Radiant Guillotine ]

[ Power: Omnipotent Character Manipulation ]

[ Skills: Heroine Creation | Heroine Customization ]

[ Currencies ]

[ CP (Creativity Points): 18998 ]

[ AP (Archetype Keys): 1 (Gold) ]

[ Rosters ]

[ Created Heroines: 4 ]

[ Archived Heroines: 0 ]

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

⸢ Attributes: ⸥

⸢ Strength: 67 ⸥

⸢ Agility: 96 ⸥

⸢ Constitution: 55 ⸥

⸢ Intelligence: 79 ⸥

⸢ Dexterity: 90 ⸥

⸢ Retention: 2250 ⸥

Lancet studied the numbers. His Grace was nearly depleted after the events of the past days. That would take hours to fully regenerate. But everything else was solid.

His Agility was his highest attribute at 96. His Dexterity wasn’t far behind at 90. Those were the stats that mattered most for a sword master. The stats that Kestrel’s training had helped refine.

Training didn’t increase stats. They only refined it, making them stronger than just hollow numbers.

Lancet’s eyes drifted to the EXP counter.

[ EXP: 22,560 ]

That was enough. More than enough. He could push himself to Level 30 easily. Maybe even 35 if he was efficient about it. But he wasn’t going to. Not yet.

”Alright,” he murmured to himself. ”I think I can work with this.”

He made a decision.

He would use the EXP as a reward. Something like a prize.

Lancet’s great idea was that he would claim this prize only after he defeated Renan in the combat tournament.

The victory would come first. Earned through skill, through training, through everything he had learned on that mountain and in that half-citadel. Then, and only then, would he level up.

The EXP would be his celebration, not his crutch.

That was the best move here.

The decision settled over him with a sense of rightness. He dismissed the profile screen with a thought and began making his way out of the green field, heading toward the Academy’s main premises.

The stone pathways were more crowded now. Students hurried past in clusters, their conversations a blur of exam anxiety and competition gossip.

A few glanced at Lancet as he passed, their eyes lingering a moment longer than usual. He wondered if word of what had happened in Deathrock had already begun to spread. Probably not.

The Sovereigns and the Councils had beseeched him to keep everything they had spoken about to himself. And he had promised to do exactly that.

Thankfully, the Council Hall wasn’t as leaky as the Awakener Supreme. But who knows? Many students here had relatives in the Hall, and all it takes is just one slip of the tongue.

Lancet was just approaching the main courtyard when he spotted familiar faces.

There were a group of students standing near the fountain. Their postures were tense, their heads swiveling as they scanned the grounds. They were looking for something. Or someone.

Nuvol, a classmate that Lancet recognized, was the first to see him.

The boy’s eyes went wide, then lit up like someone had struck a match behind them. He grabbed the person beside him, Kasto, and pointed frantically in Lancet’s direction.

Kasto turned, squinted, and then his jaw dropped.

”LANCET!”

Anita’s voice cut across the courtyard like a trumpet blast.

She was already running, her red hair streaming behind her. She had a mixture of relief and fury on her face. And it kinda looked like she wanted to hug him but also wanted to commit some kind of violence.

Miss Maecil stood behind them, her expression shifting from shock to relief in the span of a heartbeat. She had imagined the worst, so seeing Lancet in one whole sentence dissolved all the tension as she exhaled.

They all started hurrying toward him.