Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

Lancet turned serious and slashed, just to test the effect. The Radiant Guillotine passed across Renan’s translucent ribs without meeting flesh or steel.

He grimaced. ”Phantom Mode. This just feels like cheating.”

He turned.

Renan took shape behind him with Black Gale already driving toward his spine. Lancet swept the Guillotine around and caught the thrust before it reached him, forcing the point past his side.

The heavenly steel tore a line through his uniform and scraped along the cloth over his ribs, but it found no skin.

Renan’s arm remained extended for a moment. His eyes moved from the redirected blade to Lancet’s face.

”You learned to read Phantom Mode.”

”Nope!” Lancet shoved Black Gale away. ”I learned to read you.”

He struck before Renan could vanish again. The first thrust forced Black Gale inward, the low cut after it pulled the sword down, and Lancet showed him a third attack from the left before turning the Guillotine across his body and cutting from the right.

Renan caught it, but Lancet was already stepping after him with another strike.

There was no count for Renan to follow now. Lancet did not retreat after three exchanges or spend Grace after four. He cut high when Renan expected him to reset, broke his own rhythm halfway through a thrust and used every blocked attack to take another step of ground.

Renan’s sword remained faster. Black Gale appeared wherever the Guillotine went, turning aside attacks by inches and slipping free before Lancet could trap it.

Yet Renan no longer had time to answer. Each parry led into another parry, and every attempt to widen the space between them brought Lancet forward again.

The Summoner section rose row by row. Boots hammered against the stands while Kasto and Anita shouted from the railing, their voices lost inside the noise. Across the arena, the Specialist Section had stopped answering them.

Lancet caught only a glimpse of someone yelling praises for Renan before the Knight’s blade came for his face again.

He knocked it aside and kept going.

Heat climbed through his chest with every breath. The ache that had begun in his shoulders spread down both arms, and the Radiant Guillotine grew heavier each time Renan struck it.

His Grace had not fully recovered from Deathrock, so he wasn’t using much of magic. And Renan, thankfully noticed and decided not to use either.

But the weakness Lancet had ignored since entering the arena was beginning to pull at his legs.

Renan saw it. Black Gale struck harder against his guard, testing the strength left in his hands.

Lancet tightened his grip.

Five days on Kestrel’s mountain had left blood beneath his nails and lightning burns across his body. Demon Scouts had chased him through the dark. Purgatory Demons had tried to tear him apart, and the Demon Head had nearly finished what they started. He had not crawled through all of that to slow down because his arms hurt.

Black Gale crashed against the Guillotine again. Lancet caught it near the guard, stepped close and twisted until their hilts locked together.

Renan braced his feet as the crossed swords rose between their faces, both of them breathing hard enough that Lancet could feel each breath against his cheek.

Renan pushed against him, but his eyes stayed on Lancet’s. ”You’re truly not the same fighter.”

Lancet leaned harder into the lock. ”You’re almost there. It’s close now.”

Grace ran through his arms. He didn’t have much of it but he didn’t need that many to fuel his body.

Lancet tore the Guillotine free and brought it across in a cut that forced Renan to duck, but instead of carrying the swing into another attack, Lancet opened his hand.

The Radiant Guillotine left him.

The black blade spun over Renan’s head with silver light circling its edge. Renan’s gaze followed it for a fraction of a second, and his feet shifted forward to punish the empty hand Lancet had given him.

Lancet planted that hand against his chest and shoved.

Renan had already committed his weight. The push knocked him back a step, and before Black Gale could rise between them, Lancet turned his empty wrist and pulled.

Grace tightened between his palm and the Guillotine.

The sword stopped in the air.

Its spin broke, reversed, and the blade shot back toward him.

Renan looked over his shoulder. The same sword he had torn from Lancet’s hand during their first duel was returning through the air at his command.

Lancet caught it by the hilt.

For a second there, it felt like he had lost his arm. But his connection with that sword was so perfect now that just by his intent, it could never leave him.

Lancet smirked, then his feet blasted him into action. He drove forward before Renan could recover and struck hard enough to knock Black Gale across his body.

Renan caught the next cut as well, though his boots slid over the plates, and Lancet followed with another before he could regain the ground.

Black Gale still found every attack. Renan’s guard remained tighter, his blade quicker, and each movement used less strength than Lancet’s.

But Lancet kept forcing him to move.

He changed the height of his cuts, stepped across Renan’s lead foot and broke away whenever Black Gale tried to trap the Guillotine.

”Unbelievable! These two are giving us a duel for the ages. Barely any magic used, just pure combat! Pure savagery! Steel and strength!”

Silver flashed between them. Black mist broke apart beneath each collision and gathered again around Renan’s sword. The drones above struggled to follow as both men crossed the arena, and the crowd rose with them, roaring whenever Lancet gained a step and shouting again when Renan took it back.

A thrust slipped past Lancet’s guard and grazed his shoulder. He turned with it before the edge could bite deeper, brought the Guillotine down and forced Renan to block with both hands.

Renan shoved him off and cut toward his knee, but Lancet jumped over the blade and landed close enough to thrust for his face.

Renan swayed aside. The point missed his cheek, and he answered with a wide slash meant to drive Lancet away.

Lancet caught the strike late. The force shook the Guillotine in his hands and pulled Renan too far through the swing.

His right side opened.

Lancet moved before the sword had finished passing him. He stepped inside Renan’s guard, drove his shoulder into his chest and caught the wrist holding Black Gale with his free hand.

Renan tried to turn the blade back, but Lancet pinned his arm between them and brought the Radiant Guillotine up beneath his chin.

The edge stopped an inch from his throat.

The roar around them collapsed. Lancet heard Renan’s breath, the hum under their feet and the faint scrape of Black Gale’s point against the floor as he fought to keep it raised.

Renan looked down at the blade. Then he raised his eyes to Lancet.

Lancet’s arm had begun to shake. Sweat ran from his chin and struck the plate between their boots, but he kept the Guillotine where it was.

To the neck of a defeated Renan Falconhart.

The gods of novels be appalled, the main character actually lost.