The worldview of Yu-Gi-Oh was, in a word, massive.
Decades of lore. Countless expansions. Patch after patch of new archetypes, retcons, and terminal-era storylines that folded in on themselves like origami made of plot holes. The sheer volume of information was staggering, but that was exactly what made it perfect. In a sense, Yu-Gi-Oh was already a Magic Card system. The compatibility between the two was almost absurd.
Once Luke had committed to building Duel Spirits, there was no going back. He poured everything he had into reconstructing the worldview from memory. Every era, every faction, every obscure piece of trivia he'd ever absorbed from wiki rabbit holes at three in the morning.
Even with Fantasy Forge amplifying his recall, the process was grueling. The amount of raw data he was processing would've given most people a splitting headache. But Luke's mind moved through it like water, smooth and unburdened. Years of consuming fictional universes had trained him for exactly this kind of marathon.
His spiritual energy became his pen. Line after line, concept after concept, the Yu-Gi-Oh worldview expanded inside the Card Editor like a living thing, growing denser, more intricate, more real with every passing minute.
Luke was so deeply focused that he didn't notice what was happening around his body.
Countless arcane symbols had materialized in the air, swirling around him in slow, deliberate orbits. They pulsed with light, interacting with each other, colliding and merging into miniature worlds that flickered in and out of existence like soap bubbles made of pure creation.
At that same moment, inside the Ashenvale City Lord's Mansion, four men sat around a broad table in a chamber that radiated quiet authority.
If any outsider had walked in, they would've frozen on the spot. Every person in this room was a heavyweight. The kind of people whose names alone could make crowds part.
Three of them were the principals of Ashenvale's three academies. And seated at the center, presiding over the room with the effortless gravity of a man who'd earned his chair, was the City Lord himself.
Victor Ashford. Five-Star Sovereign Realm Card Master. The most powerful person in Ashenvale City, and it wasn't particularly close.
Soldier, Commander, Leader, Monarch, King, Emperor, Sovereign, Immortal, Undying, Supreme. Those were the ten realms of a Card Master's journey. To hold the title of City Lord, Sovereign-level strength wasn't optional. It was the bare minimum.
"It's begun." Victor waved his hand, and a translucent display screen materialized in the air, broadcasting live footage from inside the exam space. "Let's see what this year's crop looks like. I'd hate to be disappointed."
Similar screens flickered to life in front of each principal, each one tuned to the candidates from their respective academy.
"Our students are more than prepared, Lord Ashford." The first to speak was Richard Townsend, Principal of Crestfall Academy. Seven-Star Emperor Realm. A man whose confidence bordered on religious conviction. "I can assure you, we won't disappoint."
Crestfall Academy had held the top overall ranking in Ashenvale City for years, and Townsend wore that fact like a second skin. His display shifted, cycling through candidates until it locked onto one in particular.
Marcus Ward. Crestfall Academy's crown jewel this year. The kid had a real shot at one of the Four Great Academies, and everyone knew it.
On screen, Marcus had already finished crafting his card. A deep crimson card hovered in front of him, radiating heat even through the display.
"Inferno Knight," Townsend announced, a flicker of pride crossing his face. "Four-Star Legacy quality. That's more than enough for a strong finish in the college entrance exam, let alone this mock."
"Not bad," Victor said with a nod.
Card levels ran from One to Twelve Stars. The higher the star, the more devastating the Card Spirit's raw power.
Within the same star level, cards were further sorted by quality: Normal, Rare, Legacy, Collectible, Perfect, Legendary, Epic, Mythic, and Divine. Higher quality meant deeper potential, a bigger ceiling within the same power bracket.
One to Three Stars were classified as Junior Cards. Four to Six were Intermediate. Seven to Nine were Advanced. And anything Ten Stars or above? Each additional star cranked the crafting difficulty up by an entire tier.
Inferno Knight sat at Four Stars, squarely in Intermediate territory. For a student who hadn't even taken the college entrance exam yet, successfully building an Intermediate Card was genuinely impressive. Marcus Ward had every right to be proud.
"Townsend." A flat, cold voice cut across the room. "Ashenvale City doesn't revolve around Crestfall Academy. Ironvale Academy isn't far behind."
That was Douglas Brandt. Principal of Ironvale Academy. Also Seven-Star Emperor Realm. Also not the type to let a rival gloat unchallenged.
"Don't forget," Brandt continued, his expression frigid, "it was an Ironvale Academy student who took first place in last year's college entrance exam. Not one of yours."
The barb landed. Townsend's jaw tightened.
It was true. Crestfall Academy had held the strongest overall performance in the last exam cycle, but the single highest-scoring student had come from Ironvale Academy. Brandt had been dining out on that fact ever since.
His own display had already locked onto Hailey North, Ironvale Academy's star candidate. She'd finished her card just moments after Marcus. A Four-Star Magic Card of her own.
But hers was a step above.
Water Azure Beast. Four-Star Collectible quality. One full tier higher than Marcus's Legacy-grade Inferno Knight.
"It seems," Brandt said, and the faintest trace of satisfaction cracked through his icy exterior, "that Ironvale Academy will be coming out on top again."
"Hmph." Townsend's nostrils flared. "Results on the field are what matter. We'll see."
For cards at the same star level, higher quality meant more power. That was basic math. But combat wasn't just about raw stats. A Card Master's ability to command their Card Spirit in the heat of a fight could tip the scales. A well-piloted lower-quality card could absolutely punch above its weight.
Still. Collectible beat Legacy. And Townsend knew it.
"The more excellent students we produce, the better it is for all of Ashenvale." Victor Ashford's voice cut through the brewing tension with practiced ease, shutting down the argument before it could escalate. He turned to the third principal. "Harlow. How are your students looking this year?"
Grant Harlow.
The man was something of an enigma. Rumor had it he'd once served on the front lines, the real front lines, and racked up more battlefield achievements than most soldiers saw in a lifetime. After all of that, rather than climbing higher, he'd walked away. Left the frontline entirely and somehow ended up in Ashenvale City as principal of the weakest of the three academies.
Among everyone in this room, only Victor Ashford knew the full story. He was the one who'd brought Harlow here in the first place.
At the mention of Harlow's name, both Townsend and Brandt went quiet. There was a wariness in their eyes that hadn't been there a moment ago. In recent years, Westbridge Academy under Harlow's leadership had been improving at a pace that made people nervous.
"The average standard is slightly better than last year," Harlow said with a quiet sigh.
He knew what Victor was hoping for. But the reality was simple: he hadn't been at Westbridge Academy long enough. Unlike Crestfall and Ironvale, which had deep rosters of elite students built up over generations, Westbridge Academy didn't have that luxury yet.
Across from him, Townsend and Brandt both exhaled. A subtle release of tension they probably thought they'd hidden.
"Harlow." Victor's voice carried a knowing edge. "You're being modest."
Both principals stiffened.
"Westbridge Academy has produced someone quite extraordinary this time." Victor's display was already locked onto a single student, and his expression had shifted from casual interest to something far more intense. Something solemn.
Our school produced someone extraordinary? Since when?
Harlow blinked, confused, then immediately switched his own display to the same feed.
His eyes went sharp.
On screen, a student sat motionless in his exam space. But that wasn't what made Harlow's breath catch.
Around the boy's body, the air itself had come alive. Dozens of miniature worlds swirled and collided in tight orbits, built from interlocking arcane symbols that pulsed with raw creative energy. The entire space looked like it was on the verge of giving birth to something new.
"World Transformation!" Townsend shot to his feet, status be damned. His voice cracked with disbelief. "That's World Transformation!"
"Impossible!" Brandt was half out of his chair, his carefully maintained composure shattered. "He's creating an entirely new worldview? He's building an Original Card?!"
PLZ Throw Powerstones.