Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

The Assigning Room was as grandiose as the rest of the Academy. Maecil led her students inside, her heels clicking rhythmically on the linoleum floor.

She looked exhausted. The encounter with Phiodor had drained her social battery, and now she had to deal with another bureaucratic annoyance.

Lancet walked with his hands still in his pockets, looking left and right as he studied the place.

He watched Phiodor and the students of Elementalist-D leave the Assigning Room to head to whatever dorms had been allocated to them.

Unexpectedly, his eyes caught the gaze of a red haired girl who was staring directly at him. Lancet froze.

That looked like Frieda, one of the first heroines to fall for Renan Falconhart and join his harem. She was a Fire Mage with a Brilliant Talent.

Lancet remembered clearly that she was a bitchy type character, and she had an opportunity to go on a legendary character development, until she ended up lovestruck by Renan’s display of skills and couldn’t leave his side.

Truthfully, Lancet didn’t care much about her. She was one out of many heroines who suffered from the Romance Nerf.

He was more curious as to why she was staring at him.

After a while, Frieda looked away and disappeared out the doors with the rest of Elementalist-D.

”Moderick,” Lancet heard Miss Maecil call with a sigh.

They had stopped before a high, semi-circular desk that looked more like a fortress wall. ”I have the new Awakened students for the Summoners Class Group.”

Behind the desk sat a man who could best be described as a sphere of flesh squeezed into a uniform two sizes too small.

Moderick, the Head of Residency, was currently engaged in intimate combat with a massive, dripping chicken sandwich.

”Mmmf,” Moderick grunted. He swallowed a bite that would have choked a hippopotamus, wiping a smear of butter from his chin with the back of his hand. ”More fresh meat.”

’Not the type that you could eat,’ Lancet thought, though he wouldn’t completely put it past the rotund man.

Moderick extended a greasy hand, palm up.

”IDs. Line ’em up.”

Maecil gestured sharply to the students. ”You heard him. Step forward. Hand over your Student Cards.”

As the line shuffled forward, Lancet observed the room. On the wall behind Moderick hung a massive holographic map of the Residential District.

He could see exactly what was described in the novel. Awakeners Supreme’s caste system.

At the top, glowing with a divine white light, were the Platinum Dorms. They looked like individual villas, complete with private gardens and fountains.

”Don’t bother looking up there,” Kasto, the nervous boy standing next to Lancet, whispered.

He adjusted his thick, brass-rimmed goggles. ”That’s 8-Star Platinum territory. You could be the King’s son, but if you aren’t at least an 8-Star Platinum Awakener, you aren’t getting in.”

Lancet ignored the boy with a pout of his lips. He knew that. He knew everything about this world.

Below the Platinum Dorms were the Gold ones. These ones were also incredibly luxurious. They were dedicated for the higher ranked students and wealthy nobles.

Then the Silver Dorms, respectable suites for the middle class.

And finally, at the very bottom, on the edge of the map, were the simple looking, wooden Bronze Dorms.

The line reduced as Lancet’s classmates submitted their cards and were assigned to their separate dorms.

”Lancet Leogardt,” Moderick read, squinting at Lancet’s card.

He looked Lancet up and down, taking in the unkempt hair and the lack of any family crest. ”You’re the one who awakened a new Class only for it to be a Dull Rank.”

Moderick snorted, a wet, unpleasant sound. ”Way to make a fool of yourself on day one, kid. Better to not even awaken at all.”

Maecil’s brows creased angrily and she quickly came to her student’s defense. ”Stop badmouthing my students, Moderick, and just do your job!”

The Head of Residency looked her up and down, and scoffed. ”He’s a Dull Rank and came from the slums. What are we, scraping the barrel here? Obviously he’s joining the other nobodies in the Bronze Dorms.”

He tossed a heavy iron key onto the counter. It landed with a dead thud.

”Bronze Dorm. Block 4. Room 102. It’s a mixed-unit for the leftovers. Next!”

Lancet took the key. It felt cold and gritty.

”Charming,” he muttered, stepping aside.

The whale’s insults didn’t really get to him. Although, he finally understood how MCs of these lightnovels and manhwas felt when people looked down on them so crudely.

All he wanted to do was teach this Michelin-built idiot a lesson. To prove he was wrong for ever doubting him.

Lancet sighed inwardly. ’Am I turning into a manhwa MC myself?’

Under Miss Maecil’s order, he waited alongside his other classmates who chatted amongst themselves, ignoring him.

The only person who tried to have a conversation with Lancet, Kasto, he ended up ignoring him.

He didn’t mean to be mean. He just wasn’t interested in anything the boy was saying.

Soon enough, they left the Assigning Room. Maecil gave them a warning, letting them know how rough life was in the dorms. She wanted them to prepare and protect themselves.

Summoner-D wouldn’t have a chance against other Class Groups if the students were all injured.

She told them to be on time for lessons the next day and handed to each of them the supplies and provisions allocated according to their standing in the Academy.

Lancet carried a small box of clothes, tissue paper, toothbrush and other simple essentials.

If he didn’t know better, he would have thought he was being sent into his prison cell.

The Bronze Dorm certainly looked like one.

It was a simple gray building that looked like a mix between a duplex and a storey building.

The paint was peeling, and the lights in the hallway flickered with an ominous buzzing sound.

Lancet climbed until Block 4, unlocked Room 102 and stepped inside.

It was a single large room with four bunk beds pushed into the corners, leaving a small common area in the middle. There were two windows, and both looked out onto the back of the Academy where the waste piler mounted in the distance.

”Home sweet hell,” a voice said from behind him.

Lancet turned around to see three others shuffling in, carrying the same standard-issue provision boxes.

”Hey!” the boy with goggles beamed at Lancet.

Lancet frowned. ’Him again.’

”I’m Kasto,” the boy said, claiming the bed nearest the door. He immediately tore open the protein bar in his provision box and munched it down.

Lancet narrowed his eyes at him. ”What Class are you?”

”Oh, I’m a Machinist.”

Lancet’s eyes widened now. ”A Machinist? How did you get a Bronze Dorm then?”

Kasto looked like he was thinking for a while. ”Well, I’m from Agathar so my family is pretty poor. Even though my Class has a Talent Rank of Radiant, I have to prove myself first before I get into the higher dorms.”

Lancet stared at him. ’Machinists are really overpowered from what I remember in the novel. To create and summon magi-tech and mechas in a fantasy world is quite the game changer. I’m surprised they put someone with so much potential in the same room as me.’

”Hey!” Lancet saw Kasto call the boy who dropped his box on the top bunk. ”What’s your name?”

”Luke,” said the boy. He had shaved hair and a scar running through his left eyebrow. ”I’m Arsenal Class. Also, don’t touch my stuff.”

Kasto smiled. ”As you say.”

He looked at the girl standing at the end. She looked nervous.

”Anita,” she whispered. She was tiny, and her blonde hair was so long it dragged on the floor, hiding half her face. ”I’m a Puppeteer.”

Lancet stared at her. ’I know this girl too.’

He watched her place her box on the last lower bunk, and he immediately regretted not choosing a bed the moment he entered.

”You all know my Class,” he said. ”Heard it in the homeroom, so let’s not talk about it.”

He dropped his box onto the remaining top bed. ”And my name is Lancet.”

No one said anything. They all stared at him. Kasto was smiling. Luke was emotionless. Anita was peeking nervously through her blonde strands.

”Good talk,” Lancet slapped his laps.

”You’re the weakest in the Academy, aren’t you?” Luke suddenly asked.

Lancet—about to climb to his bed—stopped and turned. ”Huh? I wouldn’t say that... I’m sure there are a few other Awakeners with a Dull... Talent.”

Kasto glanced at Luke. ”We shouldn’t look down on others. Especially our own roommates.”

”It’s not that,” Luke grunted, crossing his arms. ”It’s just... we’re already targets. Having the ’weakest’ student in our room just puts a bigger target on our backs.”

Before Lancet could respond, the door to their room slammed open.

BAM!

It hit the wall with enough force to crack the plaster.

Three older students strode in. They wore the Summoner uniform, but their sleeves bore the two stripes of the Second Year, C-Rank.

Leading them was a guy with slicked-back black hair and a face that was 90% sneer. He held a black grimoire in one hand, tapping it against his thigh like a baton.

Lancet recognized instantly that he was a Demon Binder.