Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made-Chapter 47: It Comes With The Territory

Lancet remained on his hands and knees for a moment, gasping raggedly. The physical world around him felt slightly tilted, his vision swimming as the lingering echoes of Muskard’s cursed spirit slowly drained from his cerebral cortex.

He dragged a trembling sleeve across his face, aggressively wiping away the involuntary tears the psychic torture had forced out of him.

He stayed there for a long minute, just listening to the erratic thumping of his own heart, letting the cool night air soothe his burning skin.

Finally, the ringing in his ears stopped.

Lancet let out a long, shaky exhale. He looked down at the black card on the floor. The silver emblem of a coiled serpent on a winged sword. He snatched it up, his grip tightening around the edges.

Slowly, using the stone wall for support, Lancet pushed himself to his feet. His legs felt like lead, but he stood tall. He looked up at the dark, sloped rooftop of the adjacent dormitory building.

He couldn’t find the blue burning spear that had saved his life. Or the arrows. Only shadows were everywhere. Students had retired to bed.

"You can come out now, Luke," Lancet called out. "I know you’re there."

For a few seconds, nothing moved. The wind rustled the dry grass scattered across the courtyard.

Then, a shifting sound came from the darkness above. Luke Travers dropped down from the low overhang, his knees bending to absorb the impact perfectly.

Lancet’s eyes perked as he studied him.

His roommate was wearing the school’s unassuming, uniform. A glowing blue bow was in his hands, which slowly vanished into smoke like it was one of the shadows.

He kept his distance, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he looked at Lancet.

"You okay?" Luke asked quietly. His voice carried its usual gruff, guarded tone, but there was a distinct, undeniable layer of genuine concern beneath it.

Lancet let out a dry, exhausted chuckle, rubbing his temples. "I’ve been better. Having a cursed spirit take a stroll through your brain isn’t exactly a five-star experience."

He dropped his hand and looked at his classmate with profound gratitude. "But I’d be doing a lot worse if you hadn’t stepped in. Thanks, Luke. I had no idea that you already had two Weapon Summons."

Luke looked down at the cobblestones uncomfortably. He clearly wasn’t used to being thanked. "A Soul Searching Spear. And Darkfire Bow. Epic Weapons from the Era of Ash. Was lucky I got them."

Lancet smirked. "Cool. Still, thank you again."

"Don’t mention it. I was just coming back from training. Heard the commotion."

He kicked a loose pebble, his jaw tightening as he glanced at the alleyway where the Terrible Three had vanished. "Year Twos jumping a freshman in the dark. The A.S.I will never change, will it?"

He looked at Lancet. "And they were throwing around some heavy names, too."

"The Serpent Society," Lancet murmured, glancing at the black card in his hand. "Really scary guys from what I’m hearing."

"Scary is a way to put it," Luke said. "They’re almost a myth. You must have messed with a member if they sent three guys to rough you up."

Lancet looked at him and smiled. "Well, you shouldn’t be surprised. Daredevil," he pointed at himself, "right?"

"Yeah," Luke muttered, looking down. The brooding Arsenal let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Listen, Lancet... about how I’ve been acting."

Lancet raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"I owe you an apology," Luke said, the words coming out slightly forced but entirely sincere. "I was a jerk to you on the first day. Well, everyday I suppose. I just... I want to keep my head down. I want to survive this Academy without drawing attention to myself. When you fought with those Year Two douchebags, I figured you were just a walking magnet for disaster."

Luke looked at the bruised, exhausted freshman leaning against the wall. "But seeing those three gang up on you... I get it now. It’s completely impossible for you to stay out of trouble. When you have a Platinum Legend standing behind you, you don’t even have to look for a fight. The fight is going to come to you, whether you want it to or not."

Lancet offered a small, understanding smile. "It comes with the territory, I guess."

"Yeah. Well." Luke cleared his throat, pulling his collar up against the night chill. "You held your own. You didn’t back down from them. I respect that."

Lancet shrugged. "Would you look at that? Character growth came earlier than I expected."

Luke shot him a raised brow. "What are you talking about?"

"Never mind," Lancet replied gleefully.

The Arsenal looked at him for a while and just sighed, his expression hardening back into his usual guarded look. "But do me a favor, okay? Don’t tell anyone I helped you tonight, or that we had this talk."

"Why?" Lancet asked, already knowing the answer. "You don’t want anyone to know you’re friends with the slum rat."

"Yes," Luke said firmly. "But not just that. I don’t want the Serpent Society looking my way. I don’t want a target on my back or anything like that. I just want to fly under the radar until I leave this school. Just... keep this between us."

Lancet looked at his roommate. He saw the quiet determination in Luke’s eyes, the desire to just survive in a school that treated their Class Group like dirt.

"Heh. I guess you have my word, Luke," Lancet nodded solemnly. "I won’t tell a soul."

Luke nodded appreciatively. "Get some rest, Lancet. You look like hell."

Without another word, the Arsenal turned and walked away, heading into the dorms that they both shared.

Lancet watched him go, a quiet sense of camaraderie settling in his chest. Summoner-D was full of outcasts, but maybe they weren’t entirely alone.

He followed after Luke into their room.

As he walked, he looked down at the black card in his hand.

This wasn’t the original plot, but still, the plot was moving. It was moving way too fast for him.

The big bads of the Academy were already sniffing around, trying to pull him into their war. If he refused them again, they wouldn’t send Year Twos with warning shots. They would send the big guns.

And Lancet knew some of them.

Grimacing, Lancet tore the card straight down the middle, then tore the halves again, letting the pieces flutter into the trash can.

He needed to get stronger. And he needed to do it right now.

Thanks to the Dungeon clear, he had enough Creativity Points. And thanks to the Orc King’s Heart, his Soul Core was a massive reservoir of 1250 Max Grace.

Tonight, he was going to create his next Heroine. He was going to create Thor.