Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made-Chapter 43: Drink Up

For the rest of the day, Lancet lived the exhausting, hyper-visible life of a celebrity—or at the very least, an incredibly infamous one.

Word of the Higher Dungeon clear had spread through the Academy faster than a wildfire, as all kinds of rumors did. Everywhere Lancet walked, the corridors fell into a hushed, suffocating quiet, followed immediately by a tidal wave of frantic whispering the second he passed.

By the time the lunch bell rang, Lancet was thoroughly over it.

He met up with Kasto and Anita in the massive cafeteria, but he didn’t even bother sitting down properly. He practically inhaled his tray of chicken legs and lemon stew — the best he could afford as he was still trying to keep his debt low.

Lancet ate faster than he ever had in his life.

"Dude, breathe," Kasto said, watching him shovel food into his mouth. "You’re going to choke if you keep this up."

Anita bopped her head. "Maybe he needs food for energy to create those ladders. Right, Lancet?"

Lancet stared at her and shrugged. "Not exactly, but okay?"

"Then what’s the rush?" Kasto asked, drinking from his milk carton. "The food isn’t going to run away."

"Well I am," Lancet mumbled through a mouthful of chicken. He swallowed hard. "I’m not sticking around for Nereus Grimlake or any other bored, jealous senior to wander over here and try to use me to test their authority. I have places to be."

He dumped his tray, waved goodbye to a bewildered Anita and Kasto, and slipped out the side doors before the real cafeteria crowds could form.

Lancet wasn’t entirely giving up on his strategy of not standing down but fighting back when attacked by a senior. However, if he could prevent it all together, then that was what he would do until he got stronger.

Anything to avoid having his shadow slapped the fuck out of him. That was a painful experience he didn’t want to go through ever again.

Now, on the note of getting stronger, Lancet summoned his interface. He selected the ⸢ Inventory Option ⸥ and selected the only Item.

⸢ The Orc King’s Heart ⸥

⸢ B-Grade Item - Edible ⸥

⸢ Description: When consumed, it permanently increased the user’s present magic retention by exactly five times ⸥

Lancet knew in theory how to absorb an edible Item. He could just munch down the thing, but he wasn’t a savage, yuck.

He could also prepare it as a drink. That was the preferred method. However, he couldn’t dare do it on his own and risk ruining the Item. Before he could get a chance like that again, he’d have to wait another three years.

So, he went looking for help.

There was only one person who he knew could and likely would help him. Lancet made a beeline straight for the Academy clinic.

When he opened the door, the sterile, white-tiled room was wonderfully quiet. Nurse Hallow was sitting alone at her desk, slouched slightly over a stack of medical reports, the afternoon sun catching the soft, motherly lines of her face.

"Hey, Miss Hallow," Lancet called out softly, stepping through the doorway.

Nurse Hallow looked up, her brow instantly furrowing in concern and surprise. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and gave him a thorough, scanning look. "Why are you here again, Leogardt? Don’t tell me you’re injured again already? What was it now?"

"No, no," Lancet smiled, walking over to her desk. "I’m perfectly fine today. But I do need your help with something."

He reached into his system inventory and pulled out the pulsing, glowing red mass of the Orc King’s Heart. He set it gently on the stainless steel examination tray.

"I need you to help me make this into an edible form," Lancet explained. "Preferably something I can drink."

Nurse Hallow stared at the beating crimson heart, emanating pores of red and green light. Her eyes widened behind her lenses. "How in the world were you able to get a B-Grade Item?"

"I claimed it," Lancet shrugged modestly. "After killing the Dungeon Boss of a Higher Dungeon this morning."

Miss Hallow just stared at him, completely speechless. ’This kid,’ she thought, shaking her head slowly. ’Why does he get more intriguing and confusing each time he comes in here?’

Lancet nudged the tray closer. "Do you think you can help me?"

Hallow looked from the boy’s earnest face down to the red heart, as she recalled how to prepare edibles though it had been a while since she last prepared one.

"Sure," she finally sighed, pushing her paperwork aside. "Let me get my tools."

A few minutes later, Lancet was sitting comfortably on the edge of a hospital bed while Nurse Hallow worked at a reinforced medical table beside him.

She had cut the massive heart into smaller chunks, poured them into a small, special mortar and was carefully, methodically grinding it down with a small, special pestle. With every crushing twist, the heart broke down, turning into a fine, glowing red dust.

In the quiet, rhythmic silence of the clinic, Lancet let his gaze wander.

He found himself staring at her features, preferring to believe he was only studying them. An educational endeavor.

He stared at the way a few loose strands of her green hair teasingly fell across her face as she bit her lower lip in concentration. The soft, mouth-watering curves of her voluptuous body, every inch screaming pure temptation.

That warm, sweetly maternal expression on her face that somehow made her look even more appealing. And those massive, heavy breasts — so full and round — straining desperately against the tight fabric of her pristine white nurse’s uniform.

Hells, the deep valley of her cleavage were even on full display as she leaned over to inspect the content in the mortar, the thin material stretching obscenely across her breasts.

’Well,’ Lancet thought, leaning his chin on his hand, ’I suppose this is it. The classic trope.’

Lancet suddenly understood exactly how easy it was for transmigrated MCs to go down the harem route.

To be perfectly fair, Lancet didn’t mind harems. He actually liked them quite a bit, especially the well-done ones where the romance felt earned and the characters had real chemistry.

What he absolutely hated were the stories that dumbed down the women just so they could blindly join the MC’s harem and be obsessed with him.

To Lancet, it was the pinnacle of bad writing. Not that he claimed to be a great writer or anything, he was just a great reader. Great readers knew great writers.

And when it came to those types of harems, it gave off the glaring impression that the protagonist had absolutely no real charisma or charm of his own, and the only way a woman would ever love him was if her IQ was artificially lowered to room temperature.

How did those writers expect fans to like that shit?

Lancet shrugged inwardly. Well, some fans ate that shit up anyway. As long as there was snu snu, who gives two fucks about character development, right?

"Alright, that should do it," Nurse Hallow’s voice brought him snapping back to the present.

She tapped the pestle against the side of the mortar and picked up a vial of shimmering, crystal-clear liquid.

"The best way to consume a high-tier edible Item like this isn’t to just eat the raw powder," Hallow explained smoothly, taking on her professional medical tone. "Your body would reject it. Or it might even infest your Grace channels. Right now, I’m adding a specific type of magical spirited water. If I used normal tap water, the mundane minerals would actually ’unmagic’ the item and dilute its potency."

Lancet nudged a shoulder. "Makes sense."

She poured the spirited water into the mortar. The red dust instantly dissolved, turning the liquid into a thick, glowing crimson elixir. She poured the mixture into a glass beaker and handed it to Lancet.

"Go ahead," she nodded encouragingly. "Drink up."