Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

”Master Lancet?”

Lancet blinked, pulling himself out of his heavy thoughts. Astensia was standing in front of him, her eyes searching his face with some concern.

He raised his brows. ”Uh. Uhm. Great job, you guys.”

Astensia’s brows furrowed as she noticed how he looked away from her.

”Let’s move on,” Lancet continued, his voice completely devoid of its earlier excited pitch. He turned his back on the dispersing ashes. ”There is a canyon just up ahead. That’s where the High Orcs will probably be nesting.”

Renan wiped a smudge of dust from his cheek and looked at Lancet. ”How do you know so much about this dungeon? You’re a freshman just like me.”

Lancet didn’t even stop walking. ”I just do. Let’s go.”

Astensia stood in the red dust for a moment, her greatsword resting easily by her side. She watched her Master’s retreating back, noting the heavy slump of his shoulders and the cold distance in his voice that seemed to have come out of nowhere.

Her golden brows furrowed, concern painted over her usually composed features.

She quickly hastened her steps, her armored boots crunching against the baked earth until she was walking side-by-side with him.

”Is everything okay?” she asked softly, leaning in slightly to catch his gaze. ”Did I do something wrong, Master Lancet?”

Lancet kept his eyes fixed strictly on the red rocks ahead. ”No. Everything is fine.”

Astensia fell silent, thinking to herself. If everything is fine, then why does it feel like it isn’t? she asked herself, a strange tightness gripping her chest.

And why am I so bothered by it?

She looked at the side of his face. He looked entirely miserable. And somehow, she felt guilty for it.

”You’re not acting like everything is fine,” she pressed, her tone sweet and sad. ”Tell me if I did something wrong back there. Did I take too long in killing the Orcs when you called to me?”

”Astensia, I’ll never get upset at you for anything like that,” Lancet said.

”So what are you upset about?” she asked.

”I’m not upset,” Lancet lied poorly. ”And you didn’t do anything. I’m just not... having much fun anymore. Let’s just get this over with so we can return to the Academy.”

Astensia looked down at her silver-plated boots, processing his words. Then, she looked back at him, traveling his facial features with her blue eyes.

”Well, if you’re not upset with me, look at me then with a big smile,” she challenged softly. ”Someone who isn’t upset can do that, right?”

Lancet stopped walking finally, letting out a sigh. He wanted to hold onto his brooding, but with her being so sweetly relentless, his stubbornness faltered.

He huffed a breath, then slowly turned to her, the corner of his mouth twitching upward until he offered a genuine, if slightly weary, smile.

”There,” Lancet grumbled playfully. ”Happy now?”

Astensia’s face lit up, the tension melting from her shoulders. ”Indeed.”

”Everything okay?”

The heavy clanking of armor announced Renan Falconhart showing up by Astensia’s side, and by extension, Lancet’s. The protagonist looked between them, a perfectly polite but undeniably curious expression on his face.

Lancet’s smile vanished instantly. He looked at Renan with sharply narrowed eyes. ”Yeah. Everything is just swell.”

Astensia said nothing. She looked at Renan, and his heroic posture, and then at Lancet, with his rigid, defensive stance. A storm of realization and turmoil swirled in her blue eyes.

She didn’t fully understand the mechanics of this Academy’s social hierarchy, but she understood the bitter resentment of someone who felt overshadowed.

She looked ahead toward the canyon, her grip tightening on her sword hilt.

Ten minutes later, the badlands presented a humongous, plunging ravine.

After descending down a slope, all three of them stood behind a boulder at the edge of the canyon, peering down into the deeper gorge. Lancet swiped his hand, checking his system interface.

”I only have 100 MP of Grace left,” Lancet whispered, his voice strictly business. ”We have to hurry it up. At least, the Orc Shamans are dead. The High Orcs down there are just extremely stronger Middle Orcs. Nothing that could trouble a duo like the Solar Knight and the Ironwill Knight herself.”

Astensia might be 300 years from the past, but even she could sense the sarcasm.

Lancet forced a small, hollow smirk. ”Go kick butt, you guys.”

Renan nodded, drawing his sword, and began to carefully descend the rocky path.

Astensia took a step to follow, but then stopped dead in her tracks. She turned around, the heavy plates of her armor shifting, and looked at the boy now sitting on the rock.

”You don’t have to worry about anything, you know?” she said like a tender promise. ”I am your Summon.”

Lancet gazed at her for a moment, the bitterness in his chest receding just a fraction. Then he smiled again.

”You’re my friend, Astensia,” he said.

Astensia smiled back at him. She nodded, turned her back and leaped deeper towards the gorge.

Lancet shuffled to the edge of the boulder, resting his chin on his hands to watch the slaughter.

Down in the gorge, fifteen High Orcs were patrolling a narrow choke point. They were terrifying—towering eight feet tall, entirely clad in crude, bolted iron plates, and wielding massive spiked mauls and serrated broadswords that took two normal men to lift.

Renan was the first to engage. A cluster of three High Orcs attacked him. The Solar Knight was pretty fast.

After Lancet warned them that High Orcs were stronger than the Middle Orcs that had given Renan some trouble, the Knight came more prepared.

One High Orc swung a broadsword horizontally, aiming to cut Renan in half. Renan dropped to his knees, sliding under the rusted blade, and thrust his holy sword upward, finding the tiny gap beneath the beast’s iron armpit.

He twisted the blade, ripping it out as the monster roared. Then he jumped high, and slashed the Orc on the back, tearing skin over and over till it fell on its knees.

Renan finished off the monster with a yell of his Knight Skill: Sunlight Blade Cleave!

The giant beast, though made with tons and tons of muscle, was dissected into halves.

Renan seemed proud of himself for the kill, but Astensia was killing faster. A natural disaster that legendary Knight was.

She landed in the center of the remaining twelve with the force of an artillery shell. A High Orc immediately swung a spiked maul the size of a carriage wheel directly at her head.

Astensia didn’t even raise her shield. She casually reached up with her bare, gauntleted left hand and caught the thick iron handle mid-swing.

The force of the blow stopped completely dead, the shockwave ripping the dust out from beneath their boots. The High Orc’s bloodshot eyes bulged in shock.

With her right hand, Astensia drove the Blessed Blade straight through the monster’s thick iron breastplate, piercing its heart and out its back.

She ripped the sword free, pivoting as three more High Orcs charged her.

She hurled her golden shield low to the ground. It ricocheted off the knees of all three monsters with the sickening sound of shattering bone, dropping them instantly.

Before they could even hit the dirt, Astensia leaped forward, executing a flawless, horizontal 360-degree spin that cleanly decapitated all three.

Lancet watched in absolute awe. ’It doesn’t matter how big they get. A Level 200 Platinum Legend is just built different.’

Renan managed to blind another High Orc with a flash of holy light, sidestepping its wild swing and severing its spine with a clean downward chop.

But Astensia was already finishing the fight. She channeled a fraction of her Grace into her boots and stomped the ground. The canyon floor ruptured, throwing the last five High Orcs completely off balance.

She dashed through the falling debris like a golden blur. She parried a desperate broadsword thrust, stepped inside the guard, and cleaved the wielder from collarbone to hip. She fluidly transitioned the momentum into a backhand thrust, impaling the beast behind her.

Within ninety seconds, the gorge was quiet.

Sitting on his rock, Lancet’s interface chimed a beautiful melody.

⸢ + 12 High Orcs killed by Heroine, Astensia ⸥

⸢ Astensia has gained +1200 EXP ⸥

⸢ You have gained +2400 EXP ⸥

⸢ You have gained 600 CP ⸥

Lancet pumped his fist. The CP payout was insane. He definitely had more than enough to create Thor. He could stop now if he wanted, but the massive chunk of EXP was still very important.

What was left now was the boss at the end of the canyon—the Orc King, sitting on his Throne of Bones.

Lancet slid down the rock, his boots slipping on the loose gravel, and jogged toward the gorge.

As he approached, Renan Falconhart was already trying to initiate conversation. The protagonist sheathed his sword with a dramatic flourish, wiping a single drop of sweat from his brow.

He stepped toward Astensia, opening his mouth to undoubtedly compliment her devastating shield-throw.

This time, Astensia walked straight past him.

She completely ignored the Solar Knight—not that she wanted to, but her eyes were presently locked entirely on her master.

”Did I do well?” she asked, a hint of hopeful anticipation in her voice as she walked towards him.

Lancet smiled, the last remnants of his gloomy mood vanishing. ”Yeah, you did. You were amazing.”

He checked his interface one more time. ”I only have 60 MP left. I’m not sure how long I can anchor you here.”

Astensia’s expression instantly sharpened into absolute focus. ”Then we must hurry.”

She took a step closer to Lancet. ”Master, if I may?”

Lancet stared. ”May what—woah!”

Astensia securely wrapped her strong, armored arm around his waist, pulling his back flush against her side. She held him tightly, protectively, anchoring him to her hip.

She then turned her head to look at Renan, who was still standing a few yards away, looking completely baffled by being ignored a third time.

”You have speed,” Astensia told the protagonist matter-of-factly. ”So use it to meet us at the end of the canyon.”

Renan’s jaw dropped slightly. He looked at Astensia holding Lancet like a precious cargo, and then pointed at himself. ”Uh... Okay?”

”Hold on tightly, Lord Lancet,” Astensia whispered.

Lancet did as she asked, hugging her wonderful, feminine curves. Astensia bent her knees, and the canyon floor spider-webbed beneath her silver boots.

BOOM.

Astensia shot straight up into the hazy, ash-choked sky like a golden missile, carrying Lancet high above the canyon walls as they rocketed directly toward the Orc King’s throne, leaving the protagonist standing alone in the dust.