Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

The noise of the stadium rolled endlessly across the floating platform. The flying cameras drifted overhead like robot birds, their crystal lenses flashing as they captured the crowds and the feel of the entire event.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed.

A glow of blue light appeared from beneath the central battlefield, and suddenly the entire pinpoint middle of the arena began to rise.

Whirring mechanical sounds echoed outward and everyone watched as a thin, circular stage elevated itself from the heart of the competition grounds.

Layer after layer of dark silver metal unfolded and locked into place while glowing symbols spread across the surface like veins awakening beneath skin.

The audience immediately erupted into louder cheers.

”IT’S STARTING!”

”LOOK!”

”THE HEADMISTRESS!”

Columns of icy-blue wind burst upward around the stage in violent spirals. And when the winds vanished, the stunning, terrifying Danistasia Ardental remained.

Microphone in hand and a mischievous smile on her face, Danistasia swept her icy blue gaze across the stadium. Even though she was far away from everyone in the arena, they all still felt the terrifying, suffocating pressure that radiated from her.

It washed over the stands, demanding their absolute silence. A step behind her stood Dean Ordenance, his face was despondent, like it had been ever since the Headmistress returned.

And lined up just behind the Dean were the four Head Instructors, amongst them was Arcival Egerton who Lancet got to meet during his reevaluation.

Danistasia placed one hand behind her back and brought her microphone closer to her face. Her chilling voice sounded surprisingly inspiring that morning when she spoke.

”Look at the student sitting beside you,” Danistasia commanded. ”Look at their faces. Take note of their confidence. Because by the end of these trials, many of those faces will be broken. Many of you will fall. And that is exactly what this Academy was built to ensure.”

A collective shiver ran through the Year One stands. Lancet found himself leaning forward, his eyes locked on the Headmistress. ’She can be brutal.’

”The Kingdom of Aethelgard does not fund this institution to foster friendship, nor do we exist to coddle you,” Danistasia continued. ”You came to this Academy as raw, unrefined dirt. You were weak. Fragile. In fact, some of you still are. But the second world does not care about your fragility.”

She swept through the platform, as if she could see every face present. ”The Gloom that encroaches upon our borders will not hesitate to slaughter you while you sleep. The Hebthej raid proved that the horrors lurking in the dark are evolving. Therefore, we must evolve faster.”

She raised a single hand, her voice echoing with a fierce, monumental intensity.

”This stadium is a crucible! Through the complete exhaustion of your Grace, through the shattering of your bones, and through the desperation of combat, we will strike you against the anvil.”

Her voice became darker.

”Here, in the Inter-Class Competitions is where that sculpting begins.”

The central battlefield suddenly transformed beneath her.

The silver floor shifted into ruins that rose upward from beneath the arena. Stone walls formed. Forests erupted from the ground. Rivers split across the battlefield before dissolving again into another terrain entirely.

The crowd gasped.

”You will fight.”

The battlefield transformed again.

”You will fail.”

Again.

”You will bleed.”

Again.

”And through it all...”

The transformations stopped.

”...you will evolve.”

The stadium trembled with energy. Many students looked terrified. Others looked thrilled.

Lancet sat completely focused, unable to look away from her. Because this... this was exactly why Danistasia Ardental was feared.

If you were weak, to the Ice Witch, you were useless. You were even worse than the enemy.

The Headmistress slowly raised both arms outward toward the stadium.

”Fight for your Class Groups.”

”Fight for your Tributes.”

”Fight for your futures.”

Her glowing blue eyes seemed almost inhuman beneath the lights now. ”And prove...” her voice thundered. ”...that you deserve to stand among the defenders of this world!”

The crowd exploded. Students screamed and cheered, bursting to their feet as they praised the same woman who had put fear in their hearts.

Danistasia wasn’t even moved by their uproar. She finished her speech with final words of brutal conviction.

”I, Danistasia Ardental, Headmistress of Awakener Supreme hereby announce the commencement of the 174th Inter-Class Competitions!”

Adrenaline burst outwards in a shockwave. Tens of thousands of Awakeners screamed, their voices blending into a chaotic, earth-shattering roar.

Magic flared in the stands as students ignited their Grace in displays of pure excitement and aggression. Flags bearing the insignias of the four Class Groups were hoisted violently into the air.

Down in the Year One section, Kasto was practically jumping out of his seat, screaming at the top of his lungs, while Anita gripped the railing with wide, excited eyes.

Lancet was smiling his heart out watching it all. Even so, his eyes never left Headmistress Danistasia Ardental, following her as she and the others with her were transported to the high seats.

The announcer took over once again, lighting everyone up with a different kind of anticipation.

”Alright! Alright! You heard the Headmistress, Awakeners!” the announcer roared, his voice bouncing off the high seating tiers. ”The time for preparation is over! It is time to see who sinks and who swims! Welcome to the first official challenge of the competition: The Dungeon Expedition Score Runs!”

The crowd erupted into a fresh wave of cheers.

”As tradition dictates,” the Announcer continued, the brass floating cameras zooming around the arena to capture the frenzy, ”we are kicking things off with the fresh blood! Class Group-D will open the competitions, and we will go upwards until we arrive at the one everyone is always most eager to witness; the clash of Class Group-S!”

Cheers doubled over.

The upper years were always the prize the crowd loved to watch. The strongest, the cleanest, the most refined battles. But first had to come the opening acts, the grinding work of lower years being tested and compared.

Everyone knew the pattern and had accepted it. But they all still waited for the same reason every time.

The main event of every challenge: Class Group-S.

”But do not blink,” the announcer continued, ”because these Year Ones have already proven they can bite!”

Down in the staging area, Miss Maecil Gudgarten frantically summoned her five participants. ”Lancet! Dane! Min Tu! Kasto! Vera! Let’s go!”

After being wished good luck by their fellow classmates, the five of them moved away from their seats and stepped toward the center of the arena floor.

While other Class Groups called upon their representatives, the announcer broke down the mechanics.

”For this opening challenge, each Class Group will have a squad number of five participants! Each Class Group squad will enter a different route within the same Dungeon.”

”Your objectives are universal: Clear the rooms. Rescue the simulated targets. Secure the relics. And of course, survive!”

Cheers followed that.

”Tributes,” the announcer went on, ”will be awarded based on several performance categories: Total Kills, Boss Clear, Speed of Execution, Team Survival Rate, Rescue Count, Loot Claim, and Artifact Recovery! Do not leave a single stone unturned!”

Lancet cracked his neck, letting his Grace cycle smoothly through his veins. He glanced across the obsidian floor, sizing up the competition forming their own squads.

To his left stood Specialist-D. At the forefront of their squad was Renan Falconhart, but that was the only face he recognized in that squad. The other four might have been significant characters in the novel, but he needed their names to know who was who.

Directly across from Lancet, Elementalist-D had formed up in front of a grimacing, deadly serious Instructor Phiodor Blaze.

Frieda, the prodigy Fire Mage, was at the front with her chin held high. Beside her was Kallan Kallahan, the Lightning Mage, his face still holding the faint bruises from the brutal beatdown Lancet had handed him outside the Silver Dorms.

Next to Kallan was Cecil, one of the Temperature Twins, grinning maliciously as smoke drifted from his palms. They all had cold determination in their eyes, so much so that it almost looked malicious.

Then, over at the Enchanter-D staging zone, Mrs. Nightingale stood with her chosen squad. Lancet saw Amira Vineheart, standing serenely as usual. With her was Soren, Lancet’s other new roommate. Soren caught Lancet’s eye, nodded a bit before returning his focus to the front.

The center of the stadium suddenly groaned. The obsidian plates slid apart, and a humongous, ancient-looking stone archway rose from the depths of the platform.

Inside the archway, a spinning vortex of purple and black colors awaited them. The crowd woahed.

”For those wondering how difficult this challenge will be,” the Announcer shouted, the enthusiasm in his voice spiking. ”Yes, your suspicions are correct! That Dungeon is ranked as Difficult!”

The crowd reacted with a buzz of excitement.

”This is the first ever Difficult Dungeon run for these younglings,” the announcer continued, sounding almost delighted at the prospect. ”Which means every mistake will matter, every hesitation will be visible, and every success will be worth remembering.”

The first years around the stadium looked at each other with expressions of disbelief.

”Over thirty hovering camera drones will follow your squads into the Gloom,” the Announcer declared as dozens of brass spheres descended from the sky, hovering inches away from the students’ faces.

”Every swing of your sword, every spell you cast, and every mistake you make will be broadcast live to everyone in this stadium and to millions of viewers across the globe! We want to see your techniques! We want to see your strategies!”

”And because our panel of judges are strict,” the announcer pointed to a golden table where Dean Ordenance, Headmistress Danistasia, and several high-ranking Guild scouts watched the floor like hawks, ”it’ll be wise for you to play fair.”

”Play hard,” he warned, ”but play fair. Sabotage against other squads is authorized only in the designated contested zones! If you break the rules of engagement, you will be penalized by the stripping of your Tributes!”

The tension on the arena floor was so thick it was suffocating. Miss Maecil shot a fierce, competitive glare across the floor at Phiodor Blaze, who simply scoffed and crossed his arms, confident in his Elementalists.

Lancet looked at Kasto, Dane, Min Tu, and Vera. They all had the same look of readiness.

The Dungeon Gate glowed brighter, inviting them into its dangerous depths.

”Squads! Prepare yourselves!” the announcer roared, his voice echoing like thunder across the floating city.

Fists were clenched. Grace channels were primed. Eyes were narrowed.

Everyone stopped breathing for a second.

”BEGIN!”