Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

Chapter 222: You Can Count On Me

At that name, something flickered in her face.

A spark of interest undeniably.

Lancet continued before she could interrupt. "And I lost."

"Seeing that you are alive," she said, "then it was not a duel to the death."

"It wasn’t."

"So what is the point?"

"Losing is the point!" he almost snapped. "I don’t want to lose."

That got her attention.

Kestrel looked him over with a new kind of focus, one sharper than suspicion. "You speak as though a loss has become a personal insult."

"It has."

She considered that, then tilted her head slightly. "Renan Falconhart."

Lancet nodded.

"I remember the Falconharts," she said, a memory playing in her teal eyes. "Is he a Swordsmaster, a Dragoon or a —?"

"Knight," Lancet answered. "Heavenly Knight to be specific. Worse when he uses the sword."

Kestrel’s mouth twitched, almost a smile, though it never fully became one. "Good."

That surprised him.

She noticed his reaction and looked vaguely pleased with herself for it.

"I assumed," she said, "that if I had been dragged into the future, it would be because someone wanted a blade broken, a war won, or a legend tested."

Lancet let that sit for a second, then said carefully, "All of those things may happen."

"That sounds suspiciously like a promise."

"It is."

Kestrel’s eyes narrowed again. "You still have not told me why I should teach you."

Lancet had been waiting for that. He took a breath, then leaned slightly forward.

"Because if you help me, I can get you what you want."

She crossed her arms. "And what do I want, exactly?"

Lancet did not hesitate. "A one-on-one fight with the greatest swordsman in the world."

That made her go still.

Not frozen. Still.

The kind of stillness that came just before a blade left its sheath.

Lancet kept going before she could cut him off. "That is what you want, right? To face someone above you. To beat them. To prove you are the greatest Swordsmaster alive."

Kestrel’s gaze sharpened to a point. For the first time since appearing, she looked less annoyed and more genuinely interested.

Then she frowned again, because suspicion clearly came more naturally to her than trust.

"How would you do that?"

Lancet gave a slightly strained smile.

The honest answer was complicated. The real answer involved the system and things he was absolutely not in the mood to explain yet. So he gave her the only version that mattered.

"I have ways."

That earned him a flat stare.

"That is not an answer."

"It is the only one you need right now."

"It is a terrible answer."

"And yet," Lancet said, "you are still listening."

Kestrel stared at him for a long moment. Then she exhaled through her nose, the closest thing to amusement she had shown so far.

"You are either very brave or very stupid."

"Why not both?"

Kestrel gave him a once-over. "But your persistence reminds me of someone."

Lancet knew she meant herself.

Kestrel stepped forward one pace, then another, until they were standing only a short distance apart. Up close, she looked exactly like the kind of woman he had designed her to be and somehow more dangerous than even that.

Pride sat in her posture. Challenge lived in her eyes. She looked like someone who had spent her whole life being underestimated and had developed the bad habit of turning that into a skill.

"What if I say no?"

Lancet’s answer came too fast to be anything but desperate.

"Then you lose your chance to face the greatest swordsman in the world."

Her brows narrowed immediately.

Lancet pressed on. "If I can get you that duel, and if you beat him, then you become the greatest Swordsmaster alive."

Kestrel’s expression shifted again.

That landed. He could see the very moment when it did.

Kestrel couldn’t deny she was very intrigued. The idea of a worthy opponent. The idea of becoming undeniable and standing at the peak of all sword users and Swordsmasters.

She looked at him carefully, weighing his words the way a swordswoman weighed an opponent’s posture.

"You will need to prove that you can do it," she said. "

"His name is Percival Silverstar," Lancet replied. "He lives in an estate in a city called Grieve Valley. I know how to get his attention."

Kestrel listened then let out a small breath. "And if you fail, I will walk away."

"I know."

"And if you are wasting my time, I will make you regret it."

Lancet nodded once. "Also fair."

That earned him a more genuine look from her this time, one edged with dry disbelief.

Then Kestrel turned her head and regarded the training room again, as though already trying to imagine what kind of future had produced this place. Her gaze returned to him, and when she spoke again, the words were brisk and final.

"Very well."

Lancet blinked. "Really?"

Kestrel looked almost offended that he sounded surprised.

"If you are powerful enough to resurrect me from the dead and summon me to your time, then I believe you can arrange this duel. I will hear you out," she said. "But you will not waste my time with half-measures. If I am to teach you, then you will work."

Relief hit him so hard he almost sagged where he stood.

There was silence for a moment. Then, she gave him a more serious glare. "The Blaze family. Where do they stay? Is Crescent City still under their leadership?"

Lancet narrowed his eyes. That’s right! She also wanted revenge? Who wouldn’t? They betrayed her and slaughtered her family in front of her.

"The Blaze family fell around a hundred years ago," he replied. "They didn’t stand the test of time. There’s no one left."

Actually, there was one left. He was the Instructor of Elementalist-D.

Kestrel looked at Lancet for a while, her serene face turning grave and dark. "Very well," she said, the darkness slowly fading away. "I am still stunned that so much time has passed. But you will be the one to catch me up on the affairs of the world."

Lancet did a salute. "You can count on me!"

Kestrel gave him a thoughtful look. "Prepare yourself," she said.

Lancet’s relief vanished and was replaced by caution. "For what?"

She looked at him like the answer should have been obvious.

"Tomorrow," Kestrel said, "you will be climbing a mountain."