Cardfight Vanguard Generation Novels & Stories

By experiencing each major generational group, Ves could increase his insights into the history of mechs and their major developments. As soon as he made up his mind, Ves eagerly logged into the game for the first time in weeks. He happily sauntered over to the location in the virtual city where they sold the virtual licenses. As he stepped inside a shop featuring endless 2-star licenses of any kind, Ves felt as if he stepped into a candy store.

𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 : 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝'𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐂𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐭 (𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚) ╰────────── ⋅ ⋅ ✦❘༻༺❘✦⋅ ⋅ ──────────╯ Creases formed in my forehead as soon as read the disturbing yet weird details on my card. Apart from being adorned with strange, ominous symbols and details that I couldn't help but to read, I can't help but to be curious and estrange to its nature.

“We are supposed to discuss the delta invasion by the masked men, and also make final plans on the voting for the new Master, which currently have votes leading in this order’ I opened the little envelope one of the lords to my right had gracefully slid to my side and the numbers got stuck in my throat. I looked around the table and every eye was focused on me now to share the results, even Grego and Helen had paused in their little chitchat to listen to the scores. ‘Lord Marcos Antonio, leading with eight points. Lord Vicenzo, seven points, and Lord Lucio,’ I looked around the table again, wishing my failure couldn’t be so evidently displayed.

“You whore! How could you screw another man until you take in his child?“ “I swear— I.“ I couldn't finish the statement because my vision was starting to get blurry and darkness was starting to creep in. Then he released his grip from my neck and I fell to the floor with a loud thud. I let out a gruttal cough, gasping for breath with spit drooling out of my mouth. My neck throbbed with so much pain that it feels like I was about to die. Yet, I couldn't. Then he toss the parchment paper at me. “Still denying it?“ I grabbed the paper, my eyes scanning it and at the bottom: NO MATCH. That was the result. Clear. Final.

He looked like I just didn’t get something. “Cindy, I think you don’t quite get it. I know you’re sorry about your actions. But us being engaged means so much to me. You and Kayla are the most important people in my life. I would want you to know immediately if something good or bad happens to any of you.” He sighed. “It just hurts to know that you wouldn’t instinctively turn to me if you are in any kind of trouble, that’s all I’m trying to explain to you.”

Leading the charge was a hulking Vanguard General carrying a dark-silver warhammer that hummed with anti-mana energy. "Kill the villains!" roared the General, his voice booming out of his iron helmet. The Primarch offers ten thousand gold pieces for the head of the Sun Queen! In an instant the courtyard turned into a bloody chaotic battlefield. Claws met black silver, shadow magic battled anti-mana fields, and the desperate roars of shifters bounced off the high granite walls.

She frowned wondering exactly what he was doing here and so now her curiosity increasing she inched a little more towards the door that was left slightly open. "You won this fight, if you keep on winning, you will find yourself getting closer" he was instructing as he gave the shirtless man/fighter a towel. Even from behind Eira couldn't help but admire his broad back and muscles. "Don't worry Mac, I will make sure to win the fights. I am going to get to him, no matter what" Armando said with determination and confidence in his voice. His voice sounded vaguely familiar to Eira but she couldn’t quite place it.

But this is the tradition you will never be told stronger if you won't pass this forest. ___________ KEZTOR_elder "Walter" power_THUNDER FINO: VENOM GUALTIERO: GRAVITY MAI: WATER NARKISSA: NUMBNESS and TELEPORT NUNZIO: VOICE ORAZIO: SNIPER "Warg grandson, that was the list of all your clan allies. Are you sure about this" "I was born ready grandpa this is what I've been training for right? So what are you asking me like that?"

A staff member stood outside—dark blue vest with the event logo, headset on, notebook under his arm. "Apologies for the intrusion," he said politely, but with a clear sense of urgency. "Two registered fighters, the Italian Paolo Gerini and the Emirati Karim al-Fahim... have issued a challenge against Graves." Marcus's facial muscles twitched. "Now?" he asked. "Twenty minutes after a win?"

He stumbled to a mirror, barely recognizing the face that stared back. It was not his. Stronger. Broader shoulders. A battle-scarred jaw. A different man entirely. The wizard exhaled and lowered his hands. “Garrick lives again,” he said. “And James… vanishes.” James stared at his reflection, breathing hard. “I’ll wear their enemy’s face,” he said, voice hoarse. “I’ll walk right into the heart of their fortress. And I’ll tear it down from the inside.” The wizard handed him a black cloak and a forged sigil of the Bloodthorn Clan.