Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

Chapter 214: Ascend To Grandmastery

Lancet, Luke, and Min Tu worked through their drills inside the Summoner-D training room.

Lancet had the Radiant Guillotine gleaming in his hand as he pivoted through a series of controlled cuts, each swing cleaner than the last.

Anyone could see that Lancet was a good enough swordsman, but Renan’s words kept drifting into his mind.

He telegraphed his attacks, depended too much on borrowed Skills, overcommitted, undercommitted, and focused too much on reading the battle instead of executing technique.

It was annoying for Lancet to remember especially because he started to notice them the more he trained

Luke was across from him, and he was not in a talkative mood.

He held Sunpiercer with a grip so firm his knuckles had gone pale, his expression tight and flat in the way it always got when he was angry but trying not to let the anger leak into an actual expression.

Every time Lancet glanced in his direction, he could see the irritation still sitting behind Luke’s eyes like a coal that refused to die.

Min Tu, meanwhile, was the most free spirited of them all.

While both boys felt like they had something to do, the Necromancer was just here to train. Her daggers flashed in and out of her hands as she practiced footwork and transitions, her body twisting into sudden angles before snapping back into place.

As a Necromancer, Min Tu was lucky to have personal skills of her own such as Soul Drain, Warp, and even the Soul Energy that was wrapped around her small blades.

Each of them were training in different ways, based on the combat style of the individual they were likely to face.

Luke was going to face Jon-Mark the Rune-Carver.

Min Tu was going to face Frieda Castleloft.

Lancet was going to face Renan Falconhart.

Granted it was all speculative from Lancet’s hunch. But he was the one who predicted the Second Demon Head so everyone agreed he had a pretty good track record.

Luke slashed low, then high, then reset his stance with barely a breath in between. Sunpiercer flashed in his hand, the blade driven forward with a speed that made clear he was trying to keep his frustration from becoming sloppy.

Lancet knew exactly what was frustrating his former friend.

Luke had wanted Renan.

Not because Renan was simply strong, but because Luke had already decided that Renan was the ceiling he needed to break. The duel had left a mark on him, and not the kind that could fade quickly.

He had not been the one chosen for it, and the fact that Lancet was the one going instead had clearly not helped his mood. If anything, it had made him angrier.

But Luke was always angry so Lancet let him be.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care for the weapon summoner, but Lancet’s own thoughts were too occupied with something much sharper.

Renan Falconhart.

The next time they faced each other, Lancet did not want to look like he was simply surviving the duel again. He wanted to actually win. Or at least make Renan fight for it harder than he ever had before. And that meant he needed help.

A lot of it.

He tightened his grip around Radiant Guillotine and crossed the room in a smooth advance, then brought the blade up in a rising cut as if Renan was the hologram standing there.

The air hissed softly when the sword moved, the motion still not perfect but far more disciplined than it had been before. He stepped back, then forward again, trying to force the blade into his body like muscle memory.

In his head, he could already see the fight: Black Gale moving faster than it had any right to, heavenly pressure pouring off Renan in that maddeningly calm way, and Lancet needing to make every step count because the gap between their swordsmanship was still too wide to ignore.

The only way Lancet was going to close that gap was to become a better swordsman, not just a better combatant.

Renan might be great with the sword but there was someone who Lancet believed was greater.

He needed the help of the Ironwill Knight.

Lancet stopped fighting and stood still for a while. He maintained his grip on the Radiant Guillotine a moment longer, then, slowly, he lowered the sword and extended one hand into the open space of the training room.

"Summon."

A pillar of gold immediately crashed down from above, bright enough to wash the room in warm light and force Luke and Min Tu to look up at once.

The glow spilled across the marked floor, across the scuffed practice circles, across the blades still held in their hands. For a brief second, the whole training room was covered in light.

Then the light thinned and split, and when it finally receded, Astensia stood at the center of it, her legendary presence filling the room with energy.

Luke turned fully to stare. Min Tu did too, her daggers lowering slightly in surprise.

Astensia’s eyes found Lancet first, and her expression softened almost immediately into familiar, calm regard. "Hello, Master Lancet." Her gaze shifted around the room. "You’re training?"

Lancet gave a short breath, half relieved and half nervous. Before he could answer, Min Tu tilted her head toward him, looking from Astensia back to Lancet with open curiosity.

"What are you doing?"

Lancet glanced at both of them. "She’s the best fighter I know," he said. "She can teach us stuff."

Luke’s expression shifted at once. Interest, sharp and immediate, cut through the grumpiness he had been carrying all day.

He did not speak, but his attention was locked on Astensia now. He recognized a real opportunity when it stood in front of him.

Astensia looked at the two students then back at Lancet, her expression settling. "Do you need my help, Master?"

Lancet smiled faintly at the familiar way she said it, then let the truth out without dressing it up. "Hey, Astensia."

He shifted his stance a little and began to explain. The duel with Renan. The upcoming challenge. He told her he wanted more than a borrowed advantage. He wanted to become better with his own blade.

Lancet met her gaze. "I want true swordsmanship."

Astensia looked genuinely surprised.

"I want you to teach me the greatest skills of a swordsman," Lancet continued.

Luke’s eyes widened. Min Tu raised a brow.

Lancet ignored both of them and continued. "I don’t mean a few lessons. I don’t mean helping me polish my stance."

His grip tightened around the sword. "I want the real thing. I want to understand the sword the way you do. I want to go beyond mastery."

Now even Astensia looked unsettled. Lancet took a step forward.

"I want to ascend to grandmastery."

Astensia was silent for a while, her face slowly changing as she realized that her master was being utterly serious.

Lancet let out a deep sigh. "What do you think, Astensia?"

Astensia stared at him for a moment, then she smiled softly. "I am happy to see you so motivated and driven, Master."

Lancet nodded enthusiastically.

"But the greatest skills of a swordsman?" she repeated softly.

Then her brows drew together with a grave expression.

"Master Lancet," she said, and this time, rather than warmth it was concern and sternness wrapped in the title. "I cannot teach you that."

Lancet paused.