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Now reading: Chapter 73: Beauty Is Subjective, Right? from Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made, a Fantasy novel by steelromerc.

Caelem let out a dark chuckle that bounced off the cratered walls of the underground arena.

"Eager to get right into the at of things, huh? Kekekekeke. Don’t get too pompous just because you managed to stumble upon two legendary heroines as summons."

Lancet held his ground, his expression deadpan. "That’s two more than either of you have."

Caelem’s smile vanished. His jaw clenched, letting out an irritated "Ngh." But after a second, he forced himself to calm down, a sinister smirk returning to his lips.

"Big words. But tell ... has your arrogance given you the thought to check just how much Grace you actually have left?"

Lancet’s eyes widened slightly.

He imdiately called up his interface, his eyes darting to the bar at the corner of his vision.

⸢ Grace: 415/1250 ⸥

Shit. It had been sitting comfortably around 650 just this morning. He had spent a chunk of it channeling Thor and Astensia’s abilities through the Phantom Ring while obliterating Kallan and his goons in the bathroom.

He looked up at the Terrible Three.

Caelem threw his head back and laughed, a grating, arrogant sound. "Kekekekeke! Those five Class-D amateurs were only the appetizers. The Society sent them to make you burn your Grace and exhaust your physical strength. They were just the prep cooks, leaving you all tenderized for us to chew you up."

Lancet’s mind raced, completely ignoring Caelem’s mocking laughter.

’So Kallan, the Temperature Twins, Stacey Blue, and Baroq are all part of the Serpent Society? Was that why they’d been bullying since I got here?’ he pondered. ’But wait... if the Society wants to join them so badly, why send grunts to bully ? And why tell now?’

"You’re lucky we didn’t intercept you before you got all healed up in the clinic," Linzley giggled. Her head tilted again, a strand of drool at the corner of her lips. "But don’t worry, blondie. You’re still easy at for us to punish."

Muskard grunted. "Your expiration date has arrived, Lancet Leogardt. It is ti to butcher the livestock."

Lancet stared at them, his face completely flat. ’What’s with all the at jokes?’ he thought. ’These guys are so unbelievably cringe.’

He let out a heavy breath and flattened his shoulders. "You guys have seriously overreached with your grand plan here. Even if my Grace isn’t as high as it was this morning, it is more than enough to summon my Legends and kill all your Serpent cock-sucking asses."

Caelem looked at him, his smile widening until it looked entirely unhinged. "Don’t be so sure. Your Legends might be able to defeat one of our summons. But not all of them."

Caelem spread his arms wide, his Grace flaring with a sickening, heavy pressure that made the dust on the arena floor levitate. "Each of us has four summons so far. And they are so of the most terrifying, dangerous creatures you will ever et in your pathetic life."

His smile widened even more. "Lancet, may I introduce you to the giant furred monster of the deep forest. The Sasquatch from the North. The Big Foot!"

A magical explosion of earth and leaves occurred behind the Beast Tar. From it, clawed hands the size of boulders gripped the edges of the magical circle and hauled a nightmare into the light.

Big Foot.

It stood at least fifteen feet tall, a mountain made of matted, blood-stained fur and bulging, unnatural muscles.

Its face was a mix of an ape and a demon, with glowing, pupil-less yellow eyes and a jaw lined with razor-sharp fangs.

The Sasquatch slamd its fists into its chest and unleashed a deafening, sonic roar that visibly shook the pillars of the underground do.

Lancet stumbled backward, his eyes blown wide in genuine shock. He had never expected to actually et the legendary Big Foot, and its aura was incredibly terrifying.

He didn’t know whether to be terrified or mock all the classmates who had made fun of him for always believing it existed.

"This beast is ranked Grand," Caelem chuckled, reveling in Lancet’s reaction. "And that isn’t even all of them. Muskard? Linzley? Summon your best."

Muskard violently thrusted his smoking, red hand out in front of him.

"All the cursed spirits suffer a fate given to them by the Elders!" he whispered, his voice filled with venomous, dramatic zeal. "The heartless, hypocritical, prideful rulers of our world! I bear their vengeance deep within my chest, and I shall punish everyone for their suffering!"

He looked at the slum rat. "Starting with you, Lancet!"

Lancet looked confused, still stepping back from Big Foot. ’? What the hell do I have to do with the Elders?’

"Bathsheba!" Muskard roared. "I call upon you!"

A pool of pitch-black sludge rapidly ford at Muskard’s feet. From the bubbling tar, a spectral figure slowly levitated upward.

It was a woman, or at least, it used to be. Her skin emitted a ghastly, sickly-green glow, her eyes were hollow, bleeding voids, and her hair was a writhing, hissing mass of shadowy vipers.

The mont she fully materialized, Bathsheba threw her head back and unleashed a piercing, high-pitched banshee wail that felt like ice picks being driven directly into Lancet’s eardrums.

Lancet covered his ears, his face squeezed in pain and horror. When it stopped, he let out a breath of relief. ’What the hell was that sound?’

But more was coming.

"I’m next!" Linzley giggled hysterically.

She thrust her toy forward. "This is Sunshine! She’s just so pretty, isn’t she?"

Lancet squinted at the doll. It was the size of a normal teddy bear, but it looked like an absolute nightmare.

It was stitched together with coarse black thread, one button eye hanging completely out of its socket, and dark holes punctured randomly across its burlap face.

It looked like a prop straight out of Annabelle.

Lancet couldn’t hide his disgust. His face scrunched up. "Ew."

Linzley’s giggling instantly stopped. Her eyes darkened like a psychopath’s. "You don’t think she’s pretty?" she hissed. "Well, how about now?! Sunshine, show him just how pretty you are!"

"EERRGGHHHHH!"

The sound that ripped from the tiny doll was not of this world. In a horrifying jumpscare, the doll’s burlap jaw unhinged all the way down to its chest

’Holy fuck!’ Lancet leaped backward.

Then, it expanded.

Flesh, bone, and black limbs violently erupted from the doll’s seams. In a matter of seconds, the tiny toy morphed into a colossal, twelve-foot-tall monstrosity.

It looked like a demon one would see in The Conjuring; a twisted, spider-like amalgamation of pale limbs, cracked porcelain, and weeping black eyes, twitching and skittering behind Linzley while making wet, clicking noises with its multiple jaws.

"Isn’t Sunshine beautiful now?!" Linzley shrieked, laughing maniacally.

"Well," Lancet shrugged, disgusted more than terrified. "Beauty is subjective, right?"

Caelem’s face exploded with rage. He threw his hands down, his composure completely snapping. "Stop making jokes, you annoying mouse! We’re trying to beat you up here!"

Lancet looked at the furious Beast Tar, then at the rest of the monsters. For a mont, he actually thought he could be in trouble.

But then, a tired sigh escaped him.

’See, Miss Hallow?’ he thought mournfully. ’Keeping my debt low isn’t as easy as you think.’

Lancet dropped his stance, his expression hardening as he pushed his right hand forward, his palm facing the Terrible Three.

"Alright then," he said, his voice turning to steel. "Let’s get this over with."

Suddenly, directly in front of Lancet, a massive, blinding pillar of gold crashed down, followed by a thick bolt of blue lightning.

KRAKOOM!

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