Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

Chapter 208: No Need To Pretend

That knowledge changed nothing about the way Renan fought, but it clearly changed the way he read Lancet. His next attack came sharper, not just harder, aimed at Lancet’s centerline in a way designed to force a choice between defense and retreat.

Lancet was the one who had attacked first, but Renan had a counter.

He activated Phantom Mode. His body flickered, becoming translucent. Lancet’s next slash passed through him, there was no resistance, no contact.

Then Renan solidified behind Lancet and stabbed.

Lancet’s Phantom Ring flared. "Radiant Cross Shield!"

The golden barrier erupted around him, angled backward. Black Gale’s tip struck the shield and skidded off, throwing sparks. Renan recoiled from the backlash.

"You’re using defensive skills offensively," Renan said, almost impressed. "That’s risky."

"Everything’s risky when you’re fighting a Heavenly Knight."

Lancet leaped forward and spun, Radiant Guillotine singing. He aimed for Renan’s shoulder. Renan parried. Lancet aimed for his knee. Renan sidestepped. Lancet changed mid-swing, bringing the blade up in a rising arc that caught Renan’s collar—a shallow cut, barely drawing blood, but it was the first hit of the match.

"Whoa!" the crowd oohed.

Lancet spun his sword and did a pose. It was clear that training was what kept him alive.

Not sword mastery.

Combat sense.

Positioning.

Timing. freewёbnoνel.com

He was not beating Renan with blade technique. He knew that from the first three exchanges. Renan’s swordsmanship was too clean, too complete, too deep.

Even with the Radiant Guillotine in hand, Lancet could not win a pure contest of steel. So he fought around the sword, around the rhythm, around the spaces between attacks.

He used footwork, angle, feints, and speed. He used the fact that his combat instincts were excellent even if his swordsmanship was not on Renan’s level.

He used the fact that Astensia had taught him how to move like he belonged in the fight, even if he was still borrowing part of the language.

Renan, inspired by the sight of his blood, stepped into a slash, then flicked his wrist and sent a heavenly arc of force past Lancet’s shoulder. The edge of Lancet’s uniform tore as he twisted away.

"Too slow," Renan said.

Lancet showed him his teeth. "Stop showing off."

The crowd laughed and shouted over the clash of steel. A first-year, red in the face from excitement, shouted that Lancet was insane for still standing. Kasto cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "Don’t try to out-sword him! Use your ring, Lancet!"

Theo jumped in immediately after. "Yes! That’s right! Show him why you’re the best, Lancet! He’s nothing!"

Kasto shot Theo a tired look. "You were bullying him three months ago."

Theo looked at him and pouted. "Never happened. Dunno what you’re talking about."

Kasto deadpanned. ƒreewebηoveℓ.com

Down on the floor, the exchange was getting hotter.

Lancet called up another borrowed skill and felt the phantom charges in his ring dip down.

[ Divine Severance ]

A pale, gleaming line flashed from his blade as he slashed downward. The arc carried the faint echo of Astensia’s power, a cleaner and more forceful version of what Lancet himself could usually produce.

It was enough to force Renan to raise his sword in defense. The impact shoved Renan’s boot half a step into the fractured ground, and for a tiny second the crowd exploded because they could tell Lancet had actually made the Heavenly Knight respond.

But Renan’s expression changed only slightly.

He lowered his blade and glanced at the slash mark on his guard. "That is the second time," he said, voice still calm, "that I have seen the shape of her power in your hands. It is always weaker."

Lancet’s grip tightened. "That is because the Ring weakens it," he said.

Renan looked up.

Lancet’s smile was sharp. "You know that already. No need to pretend."

Renan’s eyes narrowed in a thoughtful way, but he did not comment further. Instead he advanced, forcing Lancet into another exchange.

Black Gale came down in a vertical cut. Lancet blocked. Renan slid the blade to the side and tried to catch Lancet’s wrist. Lancet twisted away and answered with a Thor-borrowed Thunder Blast, a compressed bolt bursting from the tip of his sword and flaring into Renan’s guard.

The blast only staggered Renan a little.

A little was still something.

The crowd roared once more.

"He hit him again!"

Lancet saw it before anyone else did. Renan had been nudged backward, but only because the attack had landed at the moment of transition.

One heartbeat later and he was already recovering, heavenly light rolling around his body as he absorbed the impact and answered with a sharp, sweeping counter that would have cleaved Lancet’s left side open if Lancet had not ducked, pivoted, and used the last of his current burst of movement to glide out of the line.

That was what made Renan terrifying. Not just strength. Adaptation. He read the rhythm of the fight too well.

Lancet’s eyes flicked toward the ring.

Six charges now.

He had used four.

He could feel the number shrinking already, and with every one it became clearer how carefully he had to choose. Renan was forcing him into the kind of fight where every mistake became expensive.

The Heavenly Knight stepped in again and now there was a different shine around his sword. The edge of Black Gale brightened with a pale aura as Renan spoke a short skill under his breath.

"Winged Blade."

The sword moved faster than it had before, feathered with light and speed. Its strikes came from awkward angles now, turning in the air as though guided by invisible wings.

Lancet caught the first with Radiant Guillotine and nearly had his guard torn open by the second. He slid back, boots carving shallow lines into the stone.

Kasto shouted from the ledge, "That’s heavenly refinement! It sharpens his angles and gives him better line control!"

Theo barked, "Yes, yes, whatever that means. Lancet, don’t let him breathe!"

"That means," Kasto snapped back without looking away, "that Renan can make the sword behave better than a normal blade. It’s why he keeps looking like he’s always attacking from the correct place."

Lancet did not hear the explanation but he could already feel it. Renan’s sword was beginning to herd him rather than simply strike him. Every attack was making the next path narrower. Every defense was turning Lancet into a little more of what Renan wanted him to be.

That irritated him.

So he stopped yielding ground.

He called down another charge and his body flashed.

[ Glorious Slash ]

The blade swept in a wide golden arc and Renan’s eyes sharpened instantly. Lancet saw the tiny shift in the Heavenly Knight’s expression when he recognized the shape of Astensia’s technique being copied through the Phantom Ring.

The attack was strong, but not as strong as the original. Not by a long way. Still, it was enough to force Renan into a defensive angle rather than a forward one.

Lancet used that half-second.

He charged.

The next several exchanges became a blur of steel, sound, and motion. Lancet fought with tighter, cleaner instincts now, pushing with his combat sense rather than trying to outspend Renan on borrowed brilliance.

He ducked under a vertical cut, stepped inside a horizontal sweep, twisted his shoulders away from a thrust, and answered with a Thor-borrowed burst of speed that made his feet crackle with light.

He was not matching Renan at sword skill. He knew that. But he was staying upright, staying dangerous, and occasionally finding those tiny openings that only existed because he was fighting smart.

Renan eventually noticed.

Of fucking course he did.