Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made-Chapter 82: For The Excellence and Dignity of Humanity

Lancet removed his hands from his pockets, trying to convey that he was at least taking this seriously.

He wanted to be a cool guy, but in the end he was still a fan of this annoying novel and being dispatched into an actual Demon Break was as exciting as it was terrifying.

Dean Ordenance looked over the assembled strike team—from the 2-Star Platinum, Vernon Heavenblum to the infamous Legend Summoner, Lancet Leogardt.

"These are the students who will be dispatched to Hebthej," Dean Ordenance declared. "If you personally know any of them, do well to wish them luck and help them anyway you can these next two days."

He hesitated before continuing.

"Naturally, a mission of this magnitude is extremely dangerous," he said with a deep breath. "You will be stepping into an active combat zone infested with entities of Gehenna. But, as is the law of our world, with great danger comes unparalleled reward."

He swept his gaze across the entire student body, making sure every listening ear caught the incentives.

"A successful defense of Hebthej will not just bring glory. It will bring a multitude of Profits for your personal Academy accounts. It will bring massive tributes and resource allocations to your respective Class Groups. The government itself has authorized a generous bounty of Notes for every one of you according to your roles. You will receive national recognition, high-tier artifacts, and state-forged equipment."

Murmurs filled the hall again. That was a lot of rewards. Just how dangerous is it there at Hebthej?

"You leave in two days," the Dean announced, turning back to the vanguard. "To ensure you do not walk into Hebthej unprepared, you will be trained and drilled relentlessly for the next forty-eight hours. This preparation will be led by Professor Wolfgar Windviper, the Head of Combat for the Academy, alongside a select team of instructors."

Ordenance returned his gaze to the crowd, addressing the hundreds of students who were staying behind. "To the rest of you: do not let this deployment distract you from your education and your own Dungeon expeditions. Focus on your lessons. Train your Grace. Everything you do here, every spell cast and every drop of sweat, is vital for the defense of our world."

He raised his right fist, placing it over his heart in the Academy’s traditional salute. "Awakener Supreme is for the excellence and the divinity of humanity."

"For the excellence and the divinity of humanity!" the student body roared back in unison.

As the Dean dismissed the assembly, the hall erupted into murmurs, debates, and rushing footsteps.

Students began filing out toward their next lessons, casting envious or awed glances toward the podium as they passed. Whispers of "Did you see that? The slum rat actually got picked!" and "Vernon and Renan together? This mission is already over" filled the air.

The selected vanguard remained on the podium a moment longer before they were quietly led away by a pair of Academy officials.

They were led deep into the Academy’s training sectors, arriving at a specialized combat hall.

Lancet knew this place. It was a training hall specifically made for combat training and battle strategy before missions sanctioned by the government.

The room was massive, the floor was made of shock-absorbent, Grace-resistant tiles. Weapon racks lined the reinforced walls, and the air was notably thicker, as if gravity itself was dialed up a fraction. High above, enchanted skylights let in natural light while massive crystal orbs hovered, ready to simulate any battlefield condition.

Waiting for them in the center of the hall was Wolfgar Windviper.

The Head of Combat was a mountain of a man. He wore a sleeveless military tunic that exposed arms thick with corded muscle and a lattice of silver scars.

He had a harsh, weathered face, a missing left eye covered by a leather patch, and the aura he carried made one wonder of the amount of beasts and Demons he’d killed.

Standing flanking him were two other instructors.

"Listen up," Wolfgar barked, his voice like grinding gravel. "I am Professor Windviper. To my right is Professor Vane, Head of Specialist Tactics."

He gestured to a lean, hawkish woman with daggers strapped to her thighs, her eyes already darting over their stances and balance points.

"To my left is Professor Thorne, Master of Grace Channeling."

Thorne was an older, severe-looking man holding a crystal staff with a rigid posture.

"We have two days to turn you lot from arrogant school children into a cohesive military unit," Wolfgar sneered, his remaining eye locking onto Vernon Heavenblum, who simply smirked back. "Here is the situation in Hebthej. Pay attention, because this will save your lives."

He tapped his foot on the ground and a table known as a panel table, arose from the tile.

A holographic map of Earth flickered into existence above the table. Wolfgar moved the map, then zoomed and kept zooming until Hebthej’s map was revealed.

It was a border town, normally green and fortified, but the projection showed a massive, spreading stain of black and purple creeping from the north.

"The Demons haven’t just breached the outer wards; they are terraforming the town," Wolfgar explained, pointing to the reddish stains. "As expected, they are emitting a miasma that rots the soil, poisons the air, and corrodes building foundations. It’s an infectious rot. If they are allowed to complete the cycle, Hebthej will physically detach from our reality and become a Demon Citadel."

He brought up the tactical markers. "Here is the play. Class Group-S and Class Group-A—Vernon, and the fourth years. You are the main vanguard You will spearhead directly into the heart of the Break and engage the Demon Head’s army leading this invasion. You don’t stop until they and the Demon Head are dead."

Vernon crossed his arms, unmoved by the prospect. "Very well."

"Class Groups-B, C, and D," Wolfgar continued, looking over the remaining students, including Nereus, Renan, Frieda, Amira, and Lancet. "You are the shield and the sweepers. You will not engage the Demon Heads unless Class Group-A asks for back up. If they do, one half of Class Group-D goes in."

"The other half joins the rest of you with your job. And what is your job?" He raised his brows. "Your job is to secure the perimeter, evacuate the trapped civilians, defend the escape routes from Lesser Demons, and most importantly, use your magic to ’unrot’ the town. Cleanse the miasma before it solidifies. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir!" the vanguard echoed.

"Good. Now, hit the floor. First, we’re opening your Grace channels."

For the next four hours, the training hall turned into a torture chamber.

First came the physical conditioning under Professor Vane. She activated gravity-wells across the floor, making their bodies feel three times heavier.

They were forced to run evasion drills, dodging high-speed rubber projectiles that bruised like rocks.

Lancet was all new to this but did his best to keep his head down. He didn’t show off, but he didn’t stumble either. Renan and others were far better than him, but he outperformed a couple others which Professor Vane noticed.

Then came the magical exercises with Professor Thorne. They sat in lotus positions on the floor, forced to rapidly cycle their Grace from their cores to their extremities and back again without casting a spell. It was designed to widen their Grace channels and increase combat stamina.

Lancet gritted his teeth, feeling the familiar, burning ache in his chest as he pushed his Grace through his veins.

He was just beginning to find a steady, painless rhythm when a heavy boot tapped his knee.

"Leogardt."

Lancet looked up and saw Wolfgar Windviper looking down at him.

"Get up," the man said. "Walk with me."

Lancet wiped sweat from his brow and stood up. He ignored the burn in his legs, and followed the Head of Combat toward the edge of the hall, away from the meditating students.

Professors Vane and Thorne were already waiting there, their arms crossed.

"Sir?" Lancet asked, catching his breath.

Wolfgar gave the freshman a quick once-over. "You’ve got good footwork, kid. Better than I expected from a Summoner. And Thorne says your Grace circulation is surprisingly disciplined."

Lancet stared. A compliment? He looked at the three elite professors. An unexpected, pleasant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Thank you, Professor. I’ve been training privately."

"Good," Wolfgar said bluntly. "Because your role in this mission is incredibly important. More important than the rest of the D-Class."

Lancet’s chest swelled slightly. "I’m ready, sir. Whatever the main vanguard needs me to do—"

"Hold on, kid," Wolfgar interrupted, raising a heavy hand. "You aren’t going with the main vanguard. You’re staying in the backlines with the rest of Group-D. Evacuation and barrier duty."

Lancet frowned, confused. "Then... how is my role more important?"

Professor Vane exchanged a look with Thorne before turning her sharp eyes on Lancet. "Well your summons of course."

Lancet stared, slowly starting to understand.

Wolfgar stepped closer, softening his hoarse voice. "You will stay in the rear where it’s relatively safe. But the moment we touch down in Hebthej, you will summon Astensia and Thor. And you will order them to join Vernon Heavenblum and the rest of the strike team at the front."

The Head of Combat gave Lancet a soft pat on the shoulder.

"Kid, with those two fighting on our side, our chances are pretty high."

Lancet stood frozen, staring at the three professors, as he came to terms with what was actually happening.

They didn’t care about his footwork. They didn’t care about his Grace channels, his growth, or his potential.

To the Awakener Supreme Institute, Lancet Leogardt wasn’t a soldier. He was just a battery pack for the real weapons.