Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made-Chapter 32: Show Time

They emerged into a sprawling, brown badland. Beneath their boots, the earth was cracked and baked — if not for the same boots, their feet would have been roasted by the heat.

The sky was covered for the most part by haze and ash. There was no vegetation, save for a few lonely, twisted trees grasping at the air like hands of skeletons.

Lancet immediately narrowed his eyes, his mind rapidly sifting through his encyclopedic knowledge of the light novel.

He remembered not much because the Dungeon wasn’t really a big deal in the novel. The only reason it was mentioned at all was because of the main loot which Renan’s rival had found.

During the expedition, the rival and the large team of students had gone through a hierarchy of orcs: from Lesser Orcs to the colossal Orc King himself.

Lancet didn’t remember the ones in the middle, but he knew there were Orc Shamans somewhere along the line. The story made a point of narrating how annoying they were to deal with..

Lancet bit his lip. He had to navigate this perfectly. He needed to secure the hidden loot without letting Renan figure out what it was.

"The magic density here is incredible," Renan remarked, taking a calm breath as he stepped up beside Lancet. His silver armor didn’t seem to bother him in the blistering heat.

He looked at Lancet, trying to study him silently. "So, Lancet. What part of the slums are you from?"

Lancet ignored his face, staring deep into badlands as he concocted a plan. "Wherever."

But Renan wasn’t deterred by his lack of enthusiasm. "I heard the rumors about your power. This ’ladder’ you build to the past... Did you intentionally reach for Astensia Valengard?"

Lancet looked around, searching for where he could get a high ground. "What does it matter? No matter who I found, you would have probably asked the same question."

Renan thought about it for a moment. "Maybe so. But as a Specialist, she’s a legend in my Class Group. She inspired all of us, myself included. Do you think I could meet her?"

Lancet finally found one. A tree. "Maybe," he said, glancing back shortly. "Sometime. It drains my Grace just to anchor her, so I can’t exactly bring her out for a meet-and-greet."

Seeking an excuse to end the conversation, Lancet scrambled up the gnarled trunk of the dead tree. He squinted through the hazy air, looking out over the ravines.

’Well...’ His stomach dropped. ’There they are.’

Lancet saw a massive, churning cloud of brown dust rising on the horizon, followed by the thunderous beating of war drums and guttural roars.

It was a stampede.

Lancet gulped, sliding back down the trunk. He looked at Renan. "You’re the most powerful Awakener in our year, right?"

Renan raised an eyebrow, a modest but confident smile touching his lips. "I try to do my best."

"Well, get ready," Lancet said, pointing toward the dust cloud. "Because an army of Lesser Orcs is coming our way."

Renan’s demeanor shifted instantly. His friendly classmate act — whether it was an act or not — disappeared completely and was replaced by the Solar Knight.

He smoothly drew his standard-issue longsword, the steel singing as it left the scabbard. Then he dropped into a flawless combat stance.

Right on cue, as if waiting for him, a sudden, inexplicable gust of wind swept through the badlands, dramatically blowing Renan’s silver hair back and catching the edge of his cape, making him look absolutely, infuriatingly epic.

Lancet stared. ’Are you kidding me? The universe literally provides him with dramatic wind?’

Renan glanced over his shoulder. "Aren’t you summoning her, Lancet?"

Lancet grimaced, checking his interface. He had 250 MP, but he needed to be hyper-efficient. "Just mind your business and do your thing. We’re not all like you with thousands of Grace to spend freely."

Renan lowered his sword a fraction, his silver eyes reflecting genuine concern. "Oh, I understand. Forgive me."

Lancet prepared.

But Renan looked at him again, his brow furrowing. "Have I offended you in some way, Lancet?"

Lancet squeezed his eyes. "There’s an army of orcs coming our way," he snapped, throwing his hands up dramatically. "I don’t have the time right now for character developing dialogue!"

Renan blinked, thoroughly confused. "For what?"

Lancet just glared at him.

"Alright," Renan sighed, turning his attention back to the encroaching horde.

The front line of the Lesser Orcs—dwarven, green-skinned monstrosities wielding rusted cleavers and spiked clubs—crested the nearest ridge.

"I will take down as many as possible to give you enough time to call your summon," Renan said. "That way, you can kill the rest and still get some Tributes for your Class Group."

Lancet rolled his eyes so hard he gave himself a mild headache. ’How incredibly kind of you.’

"Here they come!" Renan shouted.

The protagonist leaped into the fray. It was like watching a masterclass in lethal artistry. Renan’s blade ignited with a brilliant, holy silver aura.

He sidestepped a plunging cleaver, his sword cleanly decapitating the first Orc. He spun, driving his elbow into the sternum of a second before slicing through the collarbones of a third.

Lancet was about to wonder how he had gotten good so fast in combat, but he remembered overpowered MCs just had it that way.

Renan moved in blurs of silver light, with techniques he had learnt from combat class and personal training, he took down Lesser Orc after Lesser Orc.

Lancet watched for exactly three seconds before realizing that the crowd was growing.

"Show time," he whispered.

[ -20 MP ]

The ash-filled sky of the Dungeon cracked open, like it was purified by Astensia’s pillar of light. It slammed the ground and faded away to reveal the beautiful blonde Knight.

Astensia stood tall, the Plate of Divine Will gleaming brilliantly against the dreary wasteland.

"It’s her!" an Instructor back in the Dungeon Hall exclaimed.

"She’s back!"

Maecil clasped her hands against her chin, happy. Phiodor leered at her with contempt.

Ordenance’s eyes locked into the screen with utter disbelief. "It’s truly her."

Back in the Dungeon, Astensia’s eyes met Lancet’s instantly. "Lord Lancet," she said, her voice soothing amidst the chaos.

Lancet couldn’t help but smile. All his frustration evaporated the moment she arrived. "Hey, Astensia."

She beamed at him, clearly happy to see him again after yesterday. Then, the sounds of slaughter caught her attention. She turned her azure eyes toward the battlefield, watching Renan elegantly carve through half a dozen Orcs.

"Has it begun?" she asked, her arm reaching over her shoulder to claim her Blessed Blade.

"Yes," Lancet said, stepping up beside her. "Those Lesser Orcs are the primary threat right now. And the guy with the glowing sword is Renan. We’re paired up, which means I’m competing with him for points, EXP, and loot."

Astensia watched Renan’s flawless footwork for a moment, her tactical mind analyzing the protagonist. Then, she looked down at Lancet, a spark of amusement dancing in her piercing blue eyes.

"I see," Astensia smiled knowingly. "So, in the spirit of friendly competition... you want me to kill more Lesser Orcs than him?"

Lancet grinned, his eyes gleaming with ambition. "Much more Lesser Orcs."

The Ironwill Knight returned the grin, a radiant, breathtaking expression. She stepped forward, drawing the Blessed Blade from her back. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"Leave it to me, Master."

The orcs finally spilled from the sides, abandoning Renan and running towards Astensia and Lancet.

Astensia raised the greatsword parallel to the ground. The golden enchantments on her armor flared to life, and Lancet could see what she was about to do.

"Ugly smallings!" she yelled. "Feast on the Radiant Grand Cross!!"

She slashed the blade down with magical force, creating a giant vertical arc of concentrated golden energy. But rather than just striking the orcs, when the arc was about to collide with them, it expanded to the both ends, forming halves of a golden cross.

Then, the halves slammed together, slicing every one of them clean to death, before forming a great cross in the center.

A shockwave followed suit, and wind slammed against everyone before the cross vanished and silence returned into the badlands, deafening in its suddenness.

Renan Falconhart stood in the middle of a massive, empty crater. His sword was frozen mid-swing.

He blinked, looking around at the completely eviscerated battlefield, and then slowly turned his head to stare at the tall, blonde Knight standing casually near Lancet.

For the first time since Lancet had met him, the protagonist looked entirely, utterly speechless. Not just mysteriously silent. Speechless.

Back in the Dungeon Hall, the Scoreboard dinged. The score counters were updating.

[ Lancet Leogardt : 650 Pts ]

[ Renan Falconhart : 250 Pts ]

"Holy shit!" Dexter Marcist exclaimed. "She killed all of them in one move! The Grand Cross!"

Phiodor Blaze glared at him. "You do know it’s your student that’s losing right now, Dexter?"

Dexter didn’t look at him. "Unlike you, Phiodor, I believe there are more important things than winning competitions."

Dean Ordenance stood perfectly still at the edge of the dais. He stared intensely at the holographic broadcaster screen, his eyes locked onto Astensia’s golden aura as he stroked his trimmed beard.

"Unbelievable..."

Inside the badlands, Lancet was bathed in a cascade of beautiful, translucent golden screens.

⸢ + 28 Lesser Orcs killed by Heroine, Astensia ⸥

⸢ Astensia has gained +650 EXP ⸥

⸢ You have gained +700 EXP ⸥

⸢ You have gained 200 CP ⸥

Lancet stared at the numbers, his heart soaring with excitement. Astensia casually rested the Blessed Blade on her shoulder and looked down at Lancet.

"Was that sufficient, Lord Lancet?" she asked mildly.

Lancet looked at the smoking crater, then at Renan’s dumbfounded face, and finally back to his smiling Heroine.

"Astensia," Lancet breathed, completely in awe. "You are absolutely amazing."