Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

Chapter 179: He Fought The Freaking Main Character

Luke’s terrified eyes locked with Renan’s. Realizing that he didn’t want to find out, he immediately unsummoned the shield before Renan could pull again.

Then he summoned another weapon—one the crowd hadn’t seen yet. A massive war hammer, its head crackling with golden lightning. He’d been saving it.

Renan’s eyes widened. Lancet’s eyes widened too.

Luke swung.

The hammer crashed into Black Gale’s flat side. The thunderous power was enough to send Renan flying backward for a change. He skidded across the crater, his silver hair waving like a flag.

His wielding arm was reverberating, like small electric sparks had entered it and were stiffening his muscles.

Luke dropped the hammer—he hadn’t fully comprehended the powerful weapon so it was too heavy to wield more than once. He summoned Sunpiercer back to his hand. Then charged.

Renan tried to force blood pumping through his arm again. He cocked it several times, then when he could feel the holy hilt of his sword, he too lash forward.

They met again in the center, swords colliding, smoke and black mist swirled around them like a hurricane.

Luke attacked low—Renan parried. Luke attacked high—Renan ducked. Luke feinted left, spun right, and stabbed.

Renan’s body twisted. The blade passed through his armor, missing flesh by a hair.

Renan’s counter came instantly. Black Gale traced a diagonal arc from shoulder to hip. Luke threw himself backward, but the tip caught his armor—the metal split. A line of blood appeared on his chest.

Not a killing blow. But close.

The system didn’t remove him. But Luke didn’t care to look at the wound. He dismissed Sunpiercer, summoned the godtree bow, and fired three arrows at point-blank range.

Renan’s sword deflected two. The third thudded into his shoulder.

He grunted. But pushing the pain away, he charged.

He turned his silver blade into a whirlwind. Seeing what was coming, Luke summoned the Gilded Aegis, the tiny crack still in its center.

Blow after blow after blow crashed against the shield. But each impact was completely absorbed by the Aegis. Luke’s arm suffered the reverberating pain though. His feet dug furrows in the stone.

The crowd was on its feet.

"LUKE TRAVERS IS FALLING!" the announcer screamed. "BUT HE WON’T LET GO!"

Renan raised Black Gale for one final strike.

Luke saw it coming and quickly dismissed the shield.

Renan’s sword descended but Luke ducked in time.

The blade passed over his head. He summoned Devil’s Fangs and stabbed upward, aiming both daggers at Renan’s throat.

Renan’s free hand caught Luke’s wrist.

The daggers stopped an inch from his neck.

The two men froze. For a heartbeat, they stared at each other.

"Good fight," Renan said.

Then Renan pushed his sword into Luke’s stomach and the weapon summoner vanished into motes of light.

He reappeared in the spectator stands, gasping, his hands clutching his torso where the blade had passed through him. Even though he wasn’t really stabbed, there was a phantom pain he felt in his stomach.

The crowd around him exploded.

"LUKE TRAVERS HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!" the announcer screamed. "IT’S JUST RENAN FALCONHART LEFT! AFTER ELIMINATING A RECORD OF COMPETITORS!"

Luke stood in the stands, breathing hard. His hands were shaking. His face was red, from embarrassment, from frustration and anger.

Miss Maecil tried to walk towards him to console him but he ignored her, turning and storming down the ramp.

Lancet watched him go.

For a moment, he considered following. But then he turned back to the battlefield.

Renan stood over the giant Tribute Coin. He bent down, picked it up, and walked all the way to the Specialist-D clan land. Once he was there, he lifted the coin above his head.

The crowd cheered.

"AND SPECIALIST-D WINS!" the announcer declared. "AFTER ONE OF THE MOST THRILLING FINAL SHOWDOWNS, RENAN FALCONHART CAME OUT VICTORIOUS AND LEAVES THE HARVEST WITH THE MOST TRIBUTES!"

The results displayed on the board.

[ Specialist-D : 1750 ]

[ Summoner-D : 690 ]

[ Enchanter-D : 600 ]

[ Elementalist-D : 590 ]

The Specialist section of the stands erupted.

Banners waved. Voices roared. The announcer was screaming something about records and legends and the greatest Tribute Harvest in academy history.

Lancet leaned back against the railing. His heart was still pounding after all of that, and his palms were sweaty.

He watched Renan disappear into the crowd of his celebrating teammate. All the eyes on him, all the love, all the reverence. Like a true main character.

Lancet let out sigh. That, he thought, was unbelievably tense.

He smiled.

Then, he got up from his seat, descended the stands and walked down the ramp, following the path Luke had taken.

The roaring, thunderous echoes of the stadium began to muffle until it became background noise. Lancet found Luke a few yards ahead, his shoulders were hunched, his fists still balled tightly.

"Luke! Hold up a second," Lancet called out, his voice bouncing off the walls of the ramp.

Luke certainly heard him, but he didn’t stop it slow his pace. He continued walking, his boots slamming against the floor in ajnangry cadence that made it clear he wanted nothing to do with the world right now.

Lancet exhaled through his nose. Seeing that words weren’t going to cut it, he used the Phantom Ring.

[ Flash Feet ]

With lightning, Lancetshot past Luke’s flank, cutting across the trajectory of the corridor and planting himself firmly in the center of the walkway.

Luke froze instantly. His chest heaved up and down as he glared through a mess of sweat-dampened hair. His eyes were bloodshot, swimming with a volatile mix of exhaustion and raw humiliation.

For a long moment, he just stared at Lancet’s face.

"I thought your Grace was defective," he said, voice scraping against his throat.

"It is," Lancet replied. "Squeezed out just enough to catch up to you. But that’s not the point right now. Come on, man, talk to me."

Luke scoffed bitterly. He tried to look away, but Lancet stepped firmly into his line of sight.

"You were amazing out there, Luke," Lancet said sincerely. "Don’t let the result of that match smear what you actually accomplished. You just stood one-on-one with the single most powerful Awakener in First-Year. Do you have any idea how insane that looked from the stands?"

Luke remained quiet, the muscle in his jaw twitching violently. He stared past Lancet’s shoulder, his eyes hollow as the high of the battle completely faded, leaving behind nothing but the cold reality of the scoreboard.

"I failed," Luke whispered, the words heavy and leaden. "That’s all that ultimately matters. And failing means I’m not good enough."

He started to leave again, but Lancet placed a hand on his shoulder, anchoring him to the spot. "Don’t say that. If you keep comparing yourself to others, every single achievement you accomplish is going to be meaningless to you."

Lancet took in a deep breath, ready to confess something. "Honestly, Luke, you are literally the best combatant And that is crazy to say considering you’re actually a Summoner. You don’t need to best Renan Falconhart in a direct blade fight to prove your damn worth."

Luke slowly looked down ar Lancet’s hand tightly gripping his shoulder. Then he looked back up, resentment and self loathe in his eyes.

"You don’t know me, Lancet," Luke said softly, venomously. "So stop acting like you do. You don’t know why I do what I do. You know nothing about me."

He stepped closer.

"You’re just a self-serving snob who uses people and abandons them the exact moment it’s beneficial to your own agenda. So don’t act like you care. And more importantly... don’t you ever stand in my way again."

After that, Luke shouldered directly past Lancet and marched on without looking back. His retreating footsteps echoed down the deep incline of the ramp until the darkness completely swallowed his figure.

Lancet watched him leave. Then, he let out a long, slow sigh, running a hand through his hair.

’He’s never going to be satisfied with himself after this,’ Lancet thought grimly. ’But what the hell did he expect? He fought the freaking main character.’