Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

Chapter 189: I’m Not Letting You Win

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" the announcer’s voice boomed, cutting through the ocean of noise like a physical shockwave. The massive stadium speakers vibrated, sending ripples through the bright morning air as hundreds of thousands of students cheered, whistled, and stamped their feet.

It was the next day, and the third challenge of the Inter-Class Competitions was officially starting.

The energy was high, excitement was top notch and the anticipation could be felt in the air.

"Welcome to the third phase of the Class Group-D trials!" the announcer bellowed. "After the Dungeon Raids, the Tribute Coin Hunts, it’s time for us to begin something even more exciting!"

The crowd cheered.

"For this round, we test the very foundations of tactical supremacy, defensive discipline, and raw survival! I present to you... the Inter-Class Territory War!"

The crowd erupted this time, banners waving frantically across the distinct Class Group seating blocks.

"This challenge is exactly what it sounds like!" the announcer explained, his tone dropping into a gritty, high-stakes cadence that sent shivers down the spines of the competitors.

"The battlefield will be separated into five spaces. The center land and the four territories at the edges!"

"Each Class Group will be assigned a designated territory. Your objective? Hold your territory at all costs ! Tribute gains will accumulate over time! But beware—the borders are fluid, and mercy is non-existent!"

The screens displayed the battlefield for the cheering students, showing the map of four interconnected quadrants bleeding into a central, neutral war zone.

"Other groups are permitted to challenge your borders, launch coordinated sieges, or slip through your backlines to systematically slaughter your defenders and claim your territory!"

"Claiming a territory means you will gain double, triple or quadruple the amount of Tributes over time! It all depends on how many Territories you claim!"

"However!" the announcer continued with a smile. "As you’ve noticed there are four Territories and only four members in each team. So this means that if you want to claim a territory, you’d have to send a member to not only stand there, but also defend it. This could make it easier for your team to be easily attacked one after the other!"

The students woahed and oohed.

"So what is it going to be? Stand together in your territory and defend it to the death? Or attempt to claim other territories to increase your Tribute gain?!"

"This is a test of absolute defense, unrelenting offense, and brutal endurance all at once! You must decide who guards the home front, who marches to war, and how long you can bleed before you break!"

On the eastern edge of the main transport platform, Lancet stood alongside his newly selected teammates for Summoner-D.

A smile was stretched across his face.

For the first time since the Inter-Class Competitions started, he felt fully himself. Perhaps even better.

He drew a deep breath, feeling his Soul Core pumping warm steady. No, Lancet definitely felt way better.

The sluggish, excruciating drag of his broken Grace channels was gone. The golden energy inside his system didn’t sputter, leak, or fracture; it surged through his restored pathways like a pristine, high-pressure torrent, waiting for the slightest command to unleash hell.

He was no longer a crippled Summoner hiding behind his team. He was armed, he was healed, and he was prepared.

To his immediate left stood Kasto, his best friend and the only Machinist of Summoner D to B.

Kasto adjusted his goggles and mech gloves, after upgrading Metalhead and Overdrive, he was ready to reveal them to everyone in this competition.

Next to Kasto was Patton, the Golemancer who had refused to work with Lancet in the first ever Dungeon expedition. Alongside Vera who was also in that expedition — although both of them were now repentant.

The Druid gripped tightly around a twisted wooden staff that pulsed with a warm, emerald-green light.

Lancet’s gaze drifted across the central platform, zeroing in on the Specialist-D quadrant.

Renan Falconhart stood at the forefront of his team, the legendary Black Gale.resting against his hip. As usual, he stood effortlessly, with the aura of a natural-born main character. Wind blew past him as expected, his silver hair and cape flowing.

Surrounding him were the rest of the Specialist group: Sienna, casually testing the tension of her recurve bowstring; Logan, a fierce, heavily armored Dragoon whose spear gleamed with draconic runes; and Morras, a tall Vanguard Knight bracing a towering steel aegis that looked capable of stopping an avalanche.

Lancet’s smile widened into a sharp, competitive smirk. He remembered how heavily Renan had carried the Specialists in the original narrative, treating these early trials like a walk in the park.

’You’ve had your fun, Renan,’ Lancet thought, his eyes narrowing. This time, I’m not letting you win.’

Turning his attention toward the remaining quadrants, Lancet cataloged the opposition.

Over at the Elementalist-D platform, Kallan Kallahan had finally returned to the roster, his expression grim and burning with a desire for redemption after sitting out the previous match.

Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him was Leslie, the frosty-eyed Ice Mage who’d been giving him glares ever since the competition started for reasons Lancet couldn’t decipher. Beside her was a Wind Mage surrounded by a violent, localized vortex that blurred his silhouette, and finally, Billard, the stoic Earth Mage from the last match, who was already staring down Patton with blatant hostility.

Finally, the Enchanters-D team stood complete. Soren, the premier Healer, maintained a calm, serene smile, his hands folded neatly in front of his robes.

Behind him stood Diera, a brilliant Arcanist who was almost as good as Amira; Jon-Mark, the Rune-Carver; and Stacey Blue, the notorious Mind Mage who was still afraid of Lancet.

When he looked at her, she quickly snapped her gaze away, gulping.

"The stage is set!" the announcer’s voice thundered. "Initiating battlefield deployment!"

The massive stone platform beneath their feet groaned as the world-weaving magical matrices engaged. A blinding cascade of white light swallowed the students, and a split second later, the physical sensation of dropping through space took hold.

When Lancet’s vision cleared, the sterile stadium platform was gone. They had been transported into a massive, rugged valley hemmed in by towering mountain ridges that scraped against a tempestuous, slate-grey sky.

The battlefield was colossal, divided into four distinct, heavily fortified territories separated by a neutral, rocky crossroad in the dead center of the valley.

Summoner-D had been dropped into a small, forested ridge. The terrain was heavily elevated, littered with narrow rocky pathways and natural choke points that provided an incredible defensive advantage for a team reliant on summons and machinery.

Looking across the vast valley, Lancet could see the other territories anchoring the corners of the map.

The atmosphere grew suffocatingly quiet. The wind howled through the mountain passes, kicking up dust across the neutral crossroads. Every student took their stance, their Grace flaring to life in vibrant auras of different colors.

Tension rose.

"Alright everyone!" the announcer declared. "Let the Territory War... BEGIN!"