Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made-Chapter 78: I Am Not Your Toy

The doors of Summoner-C homeroom swung open and dozens of the Year Two Summoners filed in, chatting loudly about whatever they did that morning or planned to do.

Then the chatter suddenly died. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

In the exact center of the open floor space—right where Professor Halvorsen usually stood for his lectures—three figures were bound together back-to-back with thick, golden rope.

Caelem, Muskard, and Linzley.

Their wrists were lashed tight, ankles knotted, and mouths stuffed with wads of cloth that looked suspiciously like torn pieces of their own uniform.

Linzley’s pigtails were tangled and frizzy, one eye twitching as she wriggled uselessly. Muskard’s red arm was pinned awkwardly behind his back Caelem’s handsome face was flushed beet-red, veins bulging at his temples, his lion-head pauldron hanging crooked.

For three full seconds the entire class just stared.

Then the laughter exploded.

"What the fuck is up with these losers!" a guy roared with mocking laughter.

"Pfft! Look at them!" a girl doubled over her desk. "The Terrible Three! Tied up like sacrificial goats!"

"Terrible Three? What a fitting name. The Terrible Three in a terrible situation!"

"A Terrible Sight!"

"Terrible Summoners!"

A tall boy near the back clapped slowly, grinning. "What happened, Caelem? Did your precious Terrors finally turn on you?"

Linzley made a muffled, high-pitched squeal of rage through her gag, thrashing so hard the chair legs scraped across the stone. The laughter only grew louder, bouncing off the homeroom ceiling.

Caelem couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His eyes were wild, and he was screaming inside his head: Stop laughing! Stop it right now! We are the Terrible Three! We are a force to be reckoned with! We make big moves! We are destined for great things!

We’re special!!!!!

But no one heard him. The class kept laughing, pointing, taking out their crystal terminals to snap quick images.

And the worst part? They knew exactly who had done this.

---

Back in the abandoned underground arena, Lancet stood in the middle of the cratered battleground, hands on his knees, laughing so hard his ribs hurt.

Astensia stood a few paces away, arms crossed over her golden armor, a small, satisfied smile curving her lips as she watched him. Thor leaned on her warhammer a short distance off, looking thoroughly uninterested, electric-blue eyes half-lidded.

"Oh. I just wish I could see the looks on their faces" Lancet wheezed, wiping tears from the corner of his eye. "And they’re not breaking from those ropes easily. Astensia, your rope work is insane. I swear those knots could hold a Void Demon."

Astensia’s smile widened just a fraction. "I typically do not use my powers for mockery. A warrior’s strength is meant for the battlefield. However, given their lack of honor and the threat they posed to your safety, I found the task... justifiable. I am simply happy that you are safe and fine."

She nodded softly, a nod that carried her knightly oath. "That is all that matters."

Thor snorted. "I was simply happy to punish evildoers. Nothing more." She straightened, gripping her hammer tighter. "And let me make this clear again, Summoner. Do not yank me wherever you please, whenever you please. I am not your toy."

Lancet straightened, trying to meet her gaze. "Thor, when am I going to prove that I’m worthy to be your master?"

She looked at him for a while, conflicted. Then her eyes returned to spheres of conviction. "My master is dead. All I am now is a wandering soldier. A lost Valkyrie. Please accept that."

Lancet opened his mouth, then closed it. He could see the wall in her eyes, the unbreakable pride he had given her. "I can’t accept it," he said. "But I won’t force you."

With a thought, he unsummoned her. Thor dissolved into crackling blue lightning that whipped upward and vanished through the hole in the ceiling.

Lancet turned to Astensia. The Knight has been watching with folded arms.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "For always willingly helping me. Even when I drag you into... this." He gestured at the empty arena and the scorch marks left by lightning.

Astensia’s expression softened. "I will speak with her, Master. She is stubborn, but she has a good heart."

Then she took a more serious expression. "You do not need to thank me. There are only two things I truly care about: protecting those in need... and honoring my oath." She placed a gauntleted hand over her chest. "I made that oath to you. I will keep it."

Lancet smiled, genuine warmth in his chest. "I know you will."

He released her too. Astensia faded into a brilliant pillar of golden light that rose like a sunrise and disappeared. The arena fell silent once more.

Lancet stood alone in the dust and quiet, hands sliding into his pockets. He pulled up his status window to inspect how much Grace he had left.

⸢ Grace: 52/1250 ⸥

He shrugged. "Hmmf. I’m getting better at Grace management." He dismissed the screen. "Tomorrow I meet Miss Nightingale for the first Open Pores lesson."

With a final look at the battleground, he turned and climbed the broken spiral stairs, boots crunching on loose gravel.

’Heh. I’m actually growing and getting stronger,’ he thought with a smile. ’Would you look at that."

The abandoned training ground grew smaller behind him as he climbed up into the Academy’s premises.

As soon as he left, a shadow moved in the dark corner of the arena. A figure in a pristine Academy uniform stepped forward into a thin ray of light.

Five silver tears gleamed on the left sleeve, this was an Awakener in Class Group-S. The watcher’s face remained hidden in shadow, but the corners of their mouth curved upward in quiet, calculating amusement.

××××××

Lancet slipped into Summoner-D’s homeroom just as the bell rang, sliding into his table behind the rest of the class.

The room was buzzing with the usual First-Year energy; notes being passed, summons being compared in miniature form on desks, glances in his direction that made him suspect that they already knew about his reevaluation.

Miss Maecil stood at the front, teaching about tether stability between Summon and Summoner. But when she saw Lancet, she seemed to pause.

Awkwardly. Just for a heartbeat.

Then she continued, but the looks kept coming. Every few minutes her gaze would drift back to him, longer than necessary, almost conspiratorial.

When she called on a student for an answer she’d glance at Lancet again, as if the two of them shared a private joke no one else could hear. Her voice even softened when she addressed the class as a whole, like she was trying not to let something slip.

Lancet leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen against his notebook.

’What is with her today?’ he thought. ’She’s never this... distracted. It’s almost like she knows something. Something about me? Is she hiding a secret?’

He wondered if it could be a major thing. If it was, perhaps he could fish it out by remembering events in the early arcs of Awakener Supreme.

He replayed the timeline in his head. In the light novel, what happened around this time?

Ah! Lancet’s eyes widened.

The Hebthej mission!

’Yes! It was just about this time that it happened. The deployment to Hebthej. They’re likely picking the strike team right now. In the novel, Miss Maecil had chosen Min Tu, but it seems she’s replaced her with me.’

His heart slammed against his ribs. The lecture faded into background noise.

’I can’t believe I almost forgot about the Hebthej Mission.’