ca-book Chapter 202: Just Like That
Chapter 202: Just Like That
Lancet shifted nervously in his seat, though he refused to break eye contact. "Isn’t it a little classist to say that?" he asked. "Just because I’m a Summoner, that means I didn’t do anything?"
Danistasia paused.
It was a slight pause. Barely there, really. But it was enough to suggest caution.
Danistasia’s mouth curved after that tiny hesitation. She was amused. Interested. It was the sort of smile a strategist wore when someone had just surprised them in a way they enjoyed.
"Daring," she said, her tone cool and almost approving. "Very daring, Mr Leogardt."
Beside her, Dean Ordenance grimaced slightly. He knew it was a bad statement for her to make, a tactical error in a conversation that required delicacy.
Danistasia straightened from the desk. "What I meant to say," she continued, "is that your legends are doing nearly all the work while you do very little yourself."
Lancet’s brow furrowed, but she did not let him cut in.
"Ordinarily, a Summoner must guide what they call," she said. "Beasts, monsters, spirits, constructs, entities that require supervision or command. They need direction and control. They need a voice from the Summoner himself."
Her eyes settled on him precisely.
"But your summons are human beings. Intelligent. Adaptive. Capable of strategy, decision-making, and independent action. In practice, they are capable of functioning almost entirely without your input."
Lancet held her gaze.
"I understand what you’re saying," he replied. "But it was me who killed the Second Demon Head in Hebthej. Not any of my Summons. Me. If what you’re suggesting is that I’m weak without them, then you’re wrong."
Danistasia’s eyes narrowed slightly, but there was something almost pleased in the corner of her mouth now. He could not tell whether she admired the nerve of his answer or merely enjoyed that he had not bowed under pressure.
"Then why don’t you win your competitions in exactly the same way?" she asked.
Lancet frowned.
Danistasia lowered herself into her chair. With her seated, the conversation lost the shape of a casual reprimand and took on something larger. She folded her hands neatly and stared at him, measuring him with her cold eyes.
"This power of yours," she said, "is too mythical to be displayed for such a thing as student competitions."
Lancet’s expression tightened.
The Headmistress’s voice sharpened with intent.
"With a power like yours, we could call upon the legends of old and unite them with the warriors of the present. We could take the fight directly to Gehenna itself. Storm into Hellfyre and end the Demon Lords once and for all."
She squeezed her fist tight, resting it on the desk, her mind already captivated by the violent, glorious dream she was building in her head.
Lancet leaned back slightly. "’We’?"
Danistasia looked back at him, caught off guard. "Would you not want to help save the world, Mr Leogardt?"
Lancet stared at her. Ordenance was completely quiet, watching the two of them.
"That doesn’t mean you can just skip my decision and start envisioning using my power for your own benefit," he replied flatly.
Danistasia smiled, and it was colder than before. "It is for the benefit of all, boy."
Ordenance cleared his throat then, stepping in before the discussion could escalate. "What the Headmistress means," he said, measured and calm, "is that a power like yours naturally attracts attention. You have the sort of ability people only read about."
He glanced briefly at Danistasia, then back at Lancet.
"And nobody is attempting to force you into anything."
Lancet looked between them, unconvinced but less bristling now that Ordenance had taken the edge off the room.
"As long as I don’t feel pressured," he said, "I’m fine with helping."
"Of course," Ordenance replied immediately. "We have no intention of pressuring our students into decisions."
He turned slightly toward Danistasia. "Right, Ms Ardental?"
Danistasia did not answer. She simply held Lancet’s gaze, merely studying the Architect, picking apart his posture and his defiance.
"Danistasia?" Ordenance prompted.
Regaining her focus, she smacked her lips once. "We will return to this later," she said.
The way she said it made Lancet’s shoulders tense.
Then she folded one leg over the other, the movement elegant and final. "The Academy has also come to a decision regarding the use of your legendary summons."
Lancet’s eyes narrowed.
"What decision?" he asked immediately. "You’re not stopping me from using my own summons, are you?"
"No," Danistasia replied easily. "Just one."
Lancet looked at her. "Wha-?"
"Spectra," she said, letting the name hang in the air. "You can no longer use the Demoness in the competitions."
"Why?" Lancet demanded.
Danistasia raised her chin, looking down her nose at him. "It is a matter of optics, Mr. Leogardt. The Academy relies on maintaining an image of prestige, honor, and order. Your other summons, destructive as they may be, are warriors of Grace and the First World. They look the part of heroes. Spectra, however, floods the arenas with demonic red smoke and unleashes swarms of Demons. She’s a Demoness. Whether you have a leash on her or not doesn’t matter. It reflects poorly on the Academy to have a student utilizing the very creatures we train our students to slaughter."
"Demon Binders do the same thing," Lancet argued.
"For Demon Binders, the Demons are slaves," Danistasia quickly rebutted him. "The Demons are forced to fight for them. For the Mother of Gehenna, the Demons are her children?"
Her eyes sharpened with vindication. "Do you understand the difference? We can not allow that to be the norm. Demons are a plague."
"They’re all under my control," Lancet argued. "They really can’t do anything without me allowing it."
"It is perceived as demonic," Danistasia countered, her voice entirely devoid of compromise. "And you would soon be perceived in the same way. We will not have the audience questioning if the Academy is harboring a heretic simply because you prefer an easier route."
"Lancet, be reasonable," Ordenance butted in, his voice placating. "We are only asking for a minor adjustment. You still have Thor and Astensia. Surely you can secure your victories without displaying such... unsavory aesthetics."
Lancet clenched his jaw. Arguing further would achieve nothing. He stared at her.
"Just like that?"
"Just like that."
His frown deepened. After a moment, he let out a deep breath. "Alright then. I won’t summon Spectra throughout the competitions."
He and Danistasia locked eyes.
The meeting ended with no warmth and no apology, but as Lancet rose from the chair and headed for the door, he could feel her eyes on him the entire way.
He glanced back once before leaving and found her still seated, still composed, still watching him with the kind of attention that made it very clear their conversation had only been postponed, not concluded.
The corridor outside was cooler than the office, but the feeling of being measured followed him all the same.
He made his way to the elevator and stepped inside alone, the door sliding shut behind him with a ding of metal. As the elevator descended, he leaned one shoulder lightly against the wall and replayed the conversation in his head.
The elevator doors chimed and slid open. Lancet stepped out into the bustling foyer, but immediately stopped in his tracks.
Clevus Cattenham stood waiting right in front of him with an easy, mischievous smile and one hand tucked behind his back.
Lancet’s eyes dropped instantly to that hidden hand.
Something was there. Something that Clevus intended to use, probably to bound and force Lancet to shake his own hand so he could finally steal his powers.
Clevus smiled wider. "Hello there, junior."
Lancet exhaled slowly, already done with this. "You again. You don’t need to worry about the library book," Lancet said flatly. "I already have it signed under my student card."
Clevus chuckled and took a step forward. "This isn’t about the library book, kid."
Lancet narrowed his eyes.
The air between them tightened.
Clevus took another slow step closer, smile still in place, and Lancet could feel the shape of the trap hidden in the older student’s posture. He was winding up for something. He just needed the right angle, the right moment, the right hand.
Then a voice cut across the hall.
"Lancet!"
Kasto came hurrying around the corner at full speed, eyes wide and shoulders tense as if he had already decided this mattered more than whatever had been happening before. Before Lancet could ask what was wrong, Kasto grabbed both his shoulders.
"I’ve been looking everywhere for you."
"Wait! Kasto!"
"Come on! Hurry up!"
Kasto spun him around and practically dragged him away.
Lancet twisted his head back just in time to see Clevus standing where they had left him, ignored and motionless, the grin on his face gone stiff with annoyance.
Clevus’s head was about to explode. "This stubborn, hard-headed, lousy junior!"
Meanwhile, Kasto was half-running, rushing Lancet toward the exit of the academy main building.
"What is it, Kasto?" Lancet asked, trying to keep his footing as he was pulled along. "Where are you taking me to?"
Kasto pushed open the exit doors, spilling them out into the bright sunlight of the courtyard. "It’s Luke!" he said urgently, his eyes wide with panic. "He challenged Renan Falconhart to a duel!" Renan Falconhart to a duel."