Lancet had never been so excited. The adrenaline from the duel was thrumming in his ears, louder than the world around him.
He felt like everyone was staring at him. In reality, less than a quarter of the First Years and a handful of Second Years had witnessed the event in the underground arena, but he knew how gossip traveled in Awakener Supreme.
He was headed straight for the Grand Library. There was around thirty minutes left until recess was over and he had something to check.
Back in the arena, he had noticed the expression on some of the students. It seemed that they might have recognized her. But he had to be sure.
Was Astensia truly now a real person, a legend, in the world of Awakener Supreme?
He walked through the open oak doors and met the silence of the magnificent golden library.
He marched to the front desk.
"ID," the librarian droned, not looking up from her crystal terminal. She was an elderly woman with a sour face.
Lancet slid his Bronze Card across the polished wood.
She glanced at it, then at him. Her lip curled. "Bronze. Poor background. You have ten minutes. Do not enter the Restricted Section. Do not touch the display cases. If you damage anything, you will be fined."
"Understood," Lancet muttered, snatching his card back.
He expected the discrimination. In the novel, Bronze students were treated like pests who might chew on the books. But ten minutes was all he needed.
He walked past the security barriers and into the atrium.
Any ordinary First Year would get lost in a place like this. The shelves uniquely spiraled upward into the glass ceiling like DNA strands, shifting and moving with magical gravity.
Millions of books. No map.
But Lancet had read Awakener Supreme at least twenty times. He knew the layout better than every students
He visualized the scene where Renan Falconhart had visited this place. Renan had been personally guided by the same lemon-faced librarian, simply because of his Platinum status.
Lancet remembered the path the protagonist was led when he was looking for books on Knight Skills.
He moved quickly, passing the separate shelves for books on Grace Retention, Grace Channeling, Gloom Management, Class Group Politics, and Government Structure.
Finally, he arrived at the shelves with a golden placard that read: General History.
Found it!
He looked up at the massive clock embedded in the center of the glass ceiling.
"Eight minutes left," he whispered.
He carefully spun the shelf as it lowered, showcasing the different books. His fingers trailed over the spines of the books until they stopped on a massive, leather-bound volume embossed with silver letters.
'Heroes of Our Past: A Record of the Greatest Awakeners'
This was it. He knew a book like this existed! He remembered a specific character whose entire goal was to make it into this record!
Heart hammering against his ribs, Lancet pulled the heavy book from the shelf, his hands trembling slightly.
If his power was real—if the "Lore Attunement" wasn't just flavor text—then the world should have rewritten itself to accommodate his created Heroine.
He opened the book.
'A... A... As...'
He flipped through the pages frantically, scanning through the recorded Heroes and Heroines.
'Alaric... Arin... Asher…'
He stopped, and so did his breath.
There, right on page 6!
It showed a woman standing atop a crumbled fortress wall. Her golden braid whipped in a fierce wind, her winged helm gleaming under a gray, ash-choked sky.
She was holding a massive set of iron gates shut with her bare hands, her shield braced against her back, straining against a tide of darkness on the other side.
Below the image, the name was printed in bold, archaic font.
'ASTENSIA VALENGARD'
'The Ironwill of Mortality'
Lancet's eyes devoured the text. It wasn't just similar to what he wrote. It was exactly the narrative he had crafted in the golden window.
'Historical Record: Born in the Era of Ash, three hundred years ago. Astensia is the daughter of a fallen fortress commander in the Northern Wastes.'
'She is the Heroine who cleared the most Dungeons in recorded history. While King Thates is credited with the victory, records discovered in the Northern Ruins confirm that it was Astensia who held the Greatest Gate closed, alone, for seven days and seven nights against the Fifth Wave of Gehenna.'
"Ha..."
A sound escaped Lancet's throat. It started as a gasp and broke into a manic giggle.
"Haha..."
Let's fucking go! It was real!
He had actually sunk his almighty finger into the timeline of this world and edited it. He had inserted a person who never existed, gave her a history, a legacy, and a death, and the world had accepted it as absolute truth.
'I'm omnipotent,' Lancet thought, a shiver of pure, electric ecstasy running down his spine. 'No one has motion like me! I'm a god! I can literally rewrite history!'
"Shhh!"
Lancet looked to his right at a girl who was glaring at him, finger on her lips. He realized he had said that out loud and squeezed his lips nervously.
He returned to the book, read the page again with a big smile, then slammed it shut.
He couldn't leave this here. If he was going to create more Heroines, he needed this book as a reference to ensure he didn't contradict existing lore.
He needed to study the gaps in history where he could insert his next creation.
He marched back to the front desk.
BAM! He dropped the heavy tome on the librarian's counter.
"I'd like to check this out, please," Lancet said with confidence.
The librarian looked up, her expression souring even further. She picked up the book, inspected the spine, and then sneered at him.
"This is a Reference Volume," she spat. "If you had a Platinum Card, you could borrow it for free. But for a Bronze..." She tapped the terminal. "The deposit fee is 100 Profits."
Lancet's confidence evaporated. "One... hundred?"
He barely had one profit to his name.
"Uhh..." Lancet scratched his neck. "Can I... add it to my Academy debt?"
The librarian sighed. She asked for his card and scanned it.
"You already have a 6,000 Profit debt from the Medical Wing," she said, looking at him like he was a cockroach. "No credits can be given until you've cleared this debt."
Lancet grimaced. "Is there... nothing else?"
"Next!" she barked.
Lancet stared at the book, defeated.
"I'll handle it," said a smooth, charming voice that came from nowhere.
Lancet looked to his right.
Leaning against the counter was a young man who looked out of place among the stressed students.
He looked to be around twenty-two—Lancet's age back in Earth. He had a very skinny build but was fit, like a swimmer.
He wore a custom-fitted silver and blue gear with a high collar that made him look like a wizard. His hair was a plain white, and his blue eyes were very cunning.
He handed his Student card to the librarian. It was clearly a Platinum.
"Put the deposit on my tab," the man said, flashing a dazzling smile at the librarian.
He turned to Lancet, looked him up and down, and winked.
Lancet just stared.
The librarian's demeanor changed instantly. "Of course. Would you like to check the book out in your name?"
"Yes," the young man said.
"Very well. Please note that any damages will be charged to your account."
"Not a problem," he dismissed.
The librarian quickly processed the book and slid it toward Lancet, looking peeved that she couldn't kick him out.
Lancet picked up the book. "Thanks," he muttered, keeping his head low. "A lot. I'll make sure nothing happens to it."
He turned on his heel and headed for the exit, walking fast.
As expected, he heard footsteps following him. The white-haired guy caught up to him in no time.
"You seem in a hurry with that book," he said.
Lancet didn't respond?
"Why?" the man tilted his head. "Are you trying to choose another Awakener from the past to summon?"
Lancet stopped dead.
The blood in his veins turned to ice. He turned slowly to face the stranger.
"You know about that?" Lancet asked with guarded voice.
The white-haired man smiled. It was a perfect smile, too wide, too knowing. "What do you think? This is Awakener Supreme, kid. Word travels fast. Not everyone summons a dead legend."
Lancet said nothing. He gripped the book tighter, like it was some kind of heavenly shield.
"Name's Clevus," the man said, extending a hand. "Summoner-B. But... I'm also known as the only Classless Summoner."
Lancet looked at the hand.
It was slender, well-manicured, and unlike the rest of his gear, it was completely uncovered. No glove. Strange.
He looked up at Clevus's face.
"It's cool to meet you," Lancet said stiffly. "Thank you for helping me out, really."
He made no move to take the hand.
Clevus's smile remained, but somehow, it turned sinister, and his eyes narrowed. "Are you refusing my handshake, Year 1?"
Lancet gulped. "The book," he lied, lifting the heavy tome with both hands. "It's... really heavy."
Clevus stared at him. The air between them grew thick with tension. For a second, the playful facade dropped, revealing a sharp, calculating intelligence beneath.
He was clearly analyzing Lancet, dissecting his excuse.
Then, the smile turned friendly again.
"Alright," Clevus laughed softly, lowering his hand. "I'll let it pass for now. But only because I'm in a good mood today."
Lancet let out a breath he had been holding.
"Use the book well, kid," Clevus said, turning to walk away. "I'll see you around."
Not waiting a second, Lancet spun around and power-walked toward his next lesson, hugging the book to his chest.
That guy, he knew him from the story. He knew him too well.
Clevus Cattenham.
He wasn't truly a Classless Summoner. That was a lie he fed to the Academy to hide the strange summoning Skill that he possessed.
Clevus was a Skill Summoner.
He didn't summon beasts or heroes. He summoned the abilities of other Awakeners. Regardless of their Class!
The condition for his activation was simple:
Physical contact. specifically, a handshake.
First, he registered the target's unique frequency through touch. Then, once he saw the Skill in action, he could copy it permanently.
Lancet knew that a person like that, if he found out what his Skill was, he would never stop till he got hold of it. Lancet could never let that happen.
In this world where he could create powerful heroines, only someone like Clevus Cattenham stood as a real threat.