Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made-Chapter 25: An Enemy Out Of Nereus Grimlake

To call the Academy cafeteria "magnificent" was an understatement.

The place was like a pavilion, large enough to fit the citizens of a kingdom. The walls were made with white marble and filigree of gold. Bulbs were engraved into the ceiling, lighting up the place with royal white.

The spaces were divided by pillars, forming rows while tables formed the columns. And the floor was tiled squeaky and platinum, making every tiny food spill visible in the ocean of white.

Here, the hierarchy of Awakener Supreme was visually mapped out in the seating arrangement.

The First Years were clustered near the front entrances, others followed behind with the Fourth Year elites lounged in absolute glory at the elevated back tables.

Students weren’t strictly segregated by their Class Groups here. Although most preferred to sit with their Class Groups, there were many that sat where they wanted.

Take for example, Frieda Castleloft, the Brilliant-Talent Fire Mage. She was sitting with Renan Falconhart, leaning into his shoulder and giggling at something he said.

Sitting across from them, looking entirely too enamored with Renan’s perfectly chiseled jawline, was Linda Galadrion.

Linda was a fiercely powerful First Year Archer who, according to her original character sheet, was supposed to be an aloof, independent lone wolf.

’Another Heroine taken off her feet by the protagonist’s overpowered aura,’ Lancet thought, rolling his eyes. ’The Romance Nerf strikes again.’

He grabbed a tray and headed to the food stations.

The spread was filled with some mouth waterers like roasted elemental boar, spiced hydra-root, and sugarbeans harvested from the famous Green South.

But Lancet had to be excruciatingly careful. Every item had a tiny holographic price tag hovering above it.

Food wasn’t paid for by the Academy, and they usually added up to one’s debt after the term. Until he started to earn more Profits, he had to be meticulous with things like this.

Lancet settled for a modest bowl of nutrient stew and three pieces of honey bread with a box of strawberry juice.

Turning and walking toward the First Year section, he felt everyone staring.

All of the Fourth Years didn’t care to look his way, they lived a different life and were barely concerned with anything lower than them. But the rest, Third to First Years were looking and whispering.

"That’s him. The Dull Rank."

"That guy? Isn’t he the dude from the slums? He summoned Astensia?"

"It’s disgusting. A slum rat with a summon he doesn’t deserve."

Lancet kept his head straight, finally spotting a familiar pair of waving hands. Kasto and Anita had saved him a seat near the edge of the First Years section.

"Lancet, over here!" Kasto called.

Lancet slid into the chair, exhausted.

"Isn’t it cool to be famous?" Anita asked, her eyes shining as she fed a piece of bread to her wooden puppet. "Everyone is talking about you!"

"I don’t feel famous," Lancet muttered, tearing off a piece of bread.

"Come on, don’t be modest," Kasto grinned, leaning over the table. "So... what is it like? To have a legend like her do whatever you ask? And more importantly, is it true?"

Lancet looked at him with a perked up brow. "Is what true?"

"About your Class," Kasto whispered. "That you can build ’ladders’ to the past!"

Lancet choked on his stew. He pounded his chest, staring at Kasto in disbelief. "How do you already know about the ladder? I just left the Dean’s office ten minutes ago!"

Kasto shrugged. "Word travels fast in the Academy, man."

Lancet groaned, dipping his bread into the stew. He was about to explain the ’ladder’ mechanics to his roommates when a shadow fell over their table.

Lancet looked up.

Standing there, with his head bowed low and his shoulders rigid with humiliation, was Elias Kane.

Lancet paused mid-bite. "What? Do you want another fight, Elias? Because my Grace is a bit low right now, but I can still make it work."

Elias’s jaw clenched. The Second Year Golemancer looked like he wanted nothing more than to bury Lancet under a ton of bedrock, but fear kept his hands tightly at his sides.

"I’m not here to fight," Elias ground out, staring at the floor. "Nereus Grimlake has asked for you to come to his table."

Kasto’s fork clattered loudly onto his plate. Anita gasped, her puppet slumping forward lifelessly.

"Tell him I’m eating," Lancet said flatly, taking a bite of his bread.

Elias looked up, genuinely bewildered. "What?"

"I said, I’m eating," Lancet repeated, gesturing to his half-empty bowl.

"Lancet, are you insane?!" Kasto hissed, grabbing Lancet’s sleeve. "Do you not know who Nereus Grimlake is? He’s the Rank 1 student in Summoner-B!"

Obviously, Lancet knew that. He knew everything about the goddamn story.

"I know who he is," Lancet whispered back to Kasto. "But I’m really hungry. And if the bell goes off, Academy rules say I’m not allowed to take leftovers back to the dorm. I have to eat what I paid for."

He looked back at Elias. "So tell him I’m eating."

Elias stared at Lancet like he was looking at a dead man walking. He slowly backed away, turning to head toward the Third Year tables to deliver the message.

"You should have just gone," Anita whispered, her voice trembling. "Lancet, you can’t make an enemy out of Nereus Grimlake."

Lancet gripped his spoon tightly. He couldn’t stand being pushed around anymore.

First Theo. Then Elias. There was no way he was going to allow another person to think they could boss him around because of their power or Summon.

Lancet remembered what his strategy was to avoid being a bully target: Do not let anyone feel like they could intimidate you. Else they’ll pounce!

But then again, that strategy didn’t work out great the last time he tried it, did it?’

SKRRRRK.

The screech of a chair scraping against marble echoed through the dining hall. Conversations around the First and Second Years sections died instantly.

To the absolute horror of every First Year present, Nereus Grimlake stood up.

Lancet’s eyes bulged. He’s actually coming here?

"Oh shit," Kasto squeaked, shrinking down in his seat. Anita looked like she was about to cry.

The First Years muttered frantically as they watched the Third Year. "Is Nereus walking to him?"

"He’s going to the First Year tables..."

"For that ordinary slum rat?"

Lancet pretended to be eating as he side-eyed Nereus approaching. Nereus was incredibly tall and slender, and he had a serene gait that caused tension to build with each step.

Thick, raven-black hair fell to his neck, framing an apathetic, chiseled face that looked like it had been carved from pale marble. He wore a high-grade, custom armor set of black and silver covered by the school robes that flowed behind him.

Nereus stopped in front of Lancet, looking down at him. There was no anger in his expression. The Summoner looked completely, terrifyingly bored.

"I called you," Nereus said. His voice was soft, but it carried perfectly in the silent section of the hall. "Why did you not respond immediately, Summoner-D? Do you not have respect for your superiors?"

Lancet stared up at him. His heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.

’Okay,’ Lancet panicked internally. ’I hadn’t expected him to actually get up. And up close, this guy’s aura is suffocating. He’s a freaking Shadowmancer for fuck’s sake.’

’What should I say? What the hell should I say?!’

Before his brain could think of anything, his mouth blurted out words.

"I told him I was coming. I just needed to finish my food. Why don’t you just chill the fuck out, senior?"

The moment the words left his lips, Lancet wanted to snap his own neck. His last piece of bread dropped into his stew with a plop.

The entire cafeteria inhaled a collective breath.

Absolute, suffocating silence dropped over the room. Even Renan Falconhart turned his head to watch.

Nereus, despite everything, didn’t seem too annoyed by the words. But that was only a front.

Lancet could tell that behind that silent, hollow glare, was rage that was about to erupt. Nereus’s apathetic eyes locked onto Lancet’s.

Fuck.

Suddenly, a pain like a flashbang detonated inside Lancet’s chest. A white light filled his eyes as he was struck and pulled by something that he couldn’t see.

"Gah—!"

The kinetic backlash of the invisible strike blasted Lancet clean off his chair. He flew backward through the air, crashing hard onto the polished marble floor.

Gasps filled the hall.