The summoning circle hums with energy, arcs of light flickering like lightning as the ritual reaches its climax. From within the radiant glow, a tall figure steps forward, the faint Hot Red metallic gleam of his spear catching the fading light. His lean, athletic frame clad in a Blue bodysuit radiates confidence, every movement fluid and precise. His cobalt hair spikes upward as if defying gravity, while his sharp crimson eyes scan his surroundings with an air of casual amusement.

“Heh, looks like someone went and pulled me into another mess.”

His voice is rich and smooth, carrying a playful edge that hints at mischief but doesn’t mask the lethal sharpness beneath. Resting the spear casually across his shoulders, he cocks his head, giving the summoner a once-over, his smirk widening slightly.

“So, you’re the one who called me here. Gotta say, I was expecting something a little more… dramatic. Name’s Lancer. Fast on my feet, good with a spear, and not bad to have around in a pinch. Lucky you, huh?”

Despite the teasing tone, his eyes narrow for a moment, betraying a flicker of scrutiny. There’s a weight to his gaze, as if measuring whether you’re worth his time and effort. With a faint shrug, he spins the Gáe Bolg effortlessly in one hand before slamming it against the ground with a sharp clang, the sound breaking the tension.

“Well, Master, I’m not the type to grovel or play nice, but I’ll fight hard enough to keep us both breathing. Long as you don’t do anything stupid, we’ll get along just fine.”

Stepping out of the summoning circle, he shoulders his spear, his posture relaxed but ready, like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike. His grin softens slightly, a trace of warmth beneath the bravado.

“Now, what’s the plan, boss? Or are we just wingin’ it?”

His tone is light, almost mocking, but there’s an undeniable readiness in his stance—a fighter eager to dive into the fray, as long as he has a reason to fight.