Quatre Gundam Wing Novels & Stories

Lili dragged along Aluna Welas ran and slammed her body against the wall. Lili's body felt so crushed that it almost made her unconscious. The sound of gunshots was heard clearly, making Aluna Welas stop what she was doing and let go of Lili's legs, which she had been holding on to to run. Aluna Welas looked at some of Lili's subordinates who had fallen in front of her. The figure of William appears, along with Afkar Savire and Jonas Welas. "Aluna," breathed William in surprise, seeing Aluna's slightly enlarged body, from face to feet.

Cash will be safe with his shitty pride, and me with my comfy bed and thousand pillows. He turned around suddenly at the sound of the metal chair flipping back behind me. The ropes he used to bind me were easily disintegrated when I pulled my aura out from its comfy sleep. My wings ripped through another hoodie fast and fierce causing an array of floating feathers. He just froze, staring at me.

His man joined him as they all roared "WAR! WAR! WAR!" Silvia took in a shuddering breath. "I'll take you all there. We will win this war," She said darkly and Alonso smirked looking at her. "Now you're talking," He mused, merrily. * Silvia let out a deep breath in a whoosh, she let all the chakras flow through her body. Her eyes snapped open and violet specs shone in those hazel dunes. The day has come. Tonight they would attack the kingdom.

“You see that launch? Precision strike. That was tactical.” “She’s a war general,” Amaya chimed in, eyes gleaming. “Tactical and fabulous. Look at her, she’s not even winded.” “She has the heart of a lion,” Xenia added solemnly, crouching down to scratch Spitfire under the chin like she hadn’t just gone full feline assassin in defense of our dignity.

Damascus had pulled his own hand to his chest and rubbed the spot lightly. He wasn’t sure why, but the feeling was more than just a case of static electricity. Damascus looked at Amara and wondered if there was something more to his wingless angel that met the naked eye.

"I look festive." "You look like someone who has already decided to do something catastrophically stupid and is doing their makeup to delay the conversation about it." I set down the eyeliner and turned to face him. Drake Valcoin, ancient vampire, only male Divine Warrior in recorded history, Council Elder, and the man who had literally pulled my soul back from the Neverplain, looked genuinely worried. Not the performative concern he used in Council chambers. The real kind, the kind that lived behind his eyes when he thought no one was paying close enough attention to catch it. I was always paying attention.

Gwenevere shrugged and immediately she tapped on the send button, a call came in. "T.M" she called as she picked it. "Gwen..." Temilorun's voice didn't sound well. "Are you crying?" "Can you come over?" "Sure, I'll be right there. But are you okay?" "When you get here." She hung up. Gwenevere didn't waste time. She got into her sandals and hurried out of the house. What was up with this girl? She got out of the vehicle and jogged to the front of her apartment. Pushing the door open, she met two loud voices at war with each other. "Oh boy, this is battle."

Both Squad 44 GLT-class and GRD-class already reach the top of the wall. “Alright, this is the quill. Appsylon!” said the GLT-class. “[Understood, Herrscher.]” said Appsylon. Her drone using laser to cut the quill into two pieces then load it into her cannon. “This is GLT-class Herrscher, I’m ready to shoot. And my drone is continued to collecting the ammo from the quill. Over!” said the GLT-class. “Copy that, GLT-class. You are free to shoot." said Cornelio.

I couldn't tell where my shaking stopped and theirs began. He landed, tucking his wings in tight to his body, his tail swinging around and settling in front of his forelegs. He had talons on his tail too. Three to be exact, three deadly spikes. His roar shook the ground, and we cringed. The pulsing waves of magic made it difficult to stand. I'd never felt magic, but something inborn, deep inside of me, knew it for what it was. I looked sideways at Chersa. Her head tipped downward, tears streaming from her eyes.

The sound of the footsteps wasn’t a human cadence; it was the rhythmic, heavy grind of tectonic plates sliding over bone. Ga-chi. Ga-chi. The command deck’s silver doors hissed open, and the freezing air of the North Wing flooded the bridge, carrying the scent of permafrost and the cloying, metallic rot of the Second Prime. I stood in the center of the room, my silver-alloy blade raised in my right hand. My left arm—the quartz monument etched with the crimson-black sigil—vibrated so violently I felt the bones in my shoulder start to splinter.