# The Third Summon

Six months after the second set of summons, the castle training yard looked like a warzone.

Matt ducked under a sweeping glaive and rolled through the mud, coming up with his short sword angled to parry. Lyrisa, the ancient Elven Queen, pressed her advantage with the cold precision of a woman who'd fought ten thousand battles. Her living-wood glaive hummed with each swing, and her wildfire-red hair whipped around her shoulders like a battle standard.

"Your footwork has improved, summoner," she said, her voice carrying the weight of millennia. "But you still favor your right side."

"Force of habit," Matt grunted, sidestepping another thrust. "Hard to unlearn getting punched there by Fenyr every day."

From the sidelines, Fenyr laughed. "Hey, you asked me to train you. Can't complain about the bruises."

The training yard wasn't just for them. Off to the left, Celta's body was clumsily swinging a greatsword while her head, tied around her neck with Alice's ribbon, shouted directions. "Ugh, this is impossible." Her body finally dropped the sword and stood still, arms akimbo, while her head muttered obscenities in an ancient tongue.

Helen watched from the edge of a pillar, her undead-sight glowing faintly. "Fascinating. The spatial disconnect between your head and body creates a lag in motor commands. If you severed the necromantic tether and re-bound it, I could likely improve—"

"Stay away from my tether, lich," Celta's head snapped.

"I was only trying to help." Helen smiled, and it was still deeply unsettling.

Brie, the other isekai hero, sat on a bench cleaning her sword. She smiled at Matt. "You know, when I got summoned here a hundred thousand years ago, I didn't have a harem training camp. I just got a rusty sword and a map. You're spoiled."

"You're telling me," Matt said, finally disengaging from Lyrisa's assault. He was breathing hard, but he wasn't wheezing like he used to. "But I'm not complaining."

Brie chuckled. "Good. A happy summoner is an effective summoner."

Alice walked over and pressed a glowing hand to Matt's shoulder, washing away the fatigue. "You're pushing yourself too hard again."

"Can't afford to slack off," Matt said. "The demon attacks are getting more frequent, and Queen Lexina says the elven border lords are still refusing to negotiate. If we can't unite the races..."

Lyrisa planted her glaive in the dirt, her expression hardening. "My people …