Arknight Tags Novels & Stories

, Arthit's voice was cold and the nurse nodded her head and closed the door of his cabin. Arthit sat down on his seat and tore the seal of the envelope. He took out the papers and read them carefully. There were mischievous glints in his eyes that were reflecting his hidden BEASTLY agendas. His side lips curve up while staring down at her picture. The intensity of his black eyes was drinking each feature of hers. "BEAUTY", a whisper came out of his mouth. ~Name: Darika Saran. ~Age: 18 years old.

--- GREYTECH Private Bunker – Lily’s War Room Far away, in a secure, black-glass chamber of the GREYTECH network, Lily’s team was finalizing preparations. Holographic maps shimmered across the room, casting light over faces set in grim determination. Witches, warlocks, Lycans, and rogue agents—all had answered her call. The insignia of her network gleamed on their armor: silver branches over twin moons, a symbol that had become synonymous with both fear and hope.

Gemma frowned as she read the name of the place, written in slick red letters, stuck to the top of the gray one-story building. “Lightning… laser tag?” Gemma arched an eyebrow as she read the name of the place, then she turned and looked at Nero, asking for an explanation. “You asked me to play laser tag?” “Yeah… but not just playing.” Nero pointed his index finger at a large banner hanging on the edge of the car park. “You want to pay your debt to me, right? Maybe that could be your chance.” Gemma followed where Nero’s index finger was pointing, then she read the red and yellow banner which looked striking.

The heavy silver fountain pen felt weighted, like an anchor dragging her down into a lawless abyss. Agnes stared at the parchment laid out on the metal examination tray. The ink pooling at the nib wasn't standard black; it was a dark, iridescent crimson—synthetic blood-ink designed by the High Council to bind a fighter’s bio-metrics directly to a syndicate’s ledger. If she pressed her thumb to the glowing blue seal, Rhys Stormfang would legally own her athletic, professional, and public life for the next three hundred and sixty-five days. Her freedom would be liquidated to settle a ghost debt.

The moment the lock engaged, the mask completely shattered. The room was exactly as he had left it a pristine capsule of a life that no longer belonged to him. His favorite art books were still lined up neatly on the shelves, his sketchbooks rested on the desk, the soft afternoon sunlight streamed through the sheer white curtains, and the faint, nostalgic scent of lavender and clean linen filled the air. It was the room of a boy who was safe. A boy who had never known the heavy, suffocating weight of a man’s anger. A boy who had never been pinned to a cold marble counter and broken into pieces.

**FERAL FURY PACK** Lucifer groaned as the morning sun pierced through the curtains, hitting his eyes with a harsh glare. His head throbbed, a relentless reminder of the night before. He sat up slowly, his body heavy and sluggish. As he reached for his phone on the nightstand, the screen lit up with the notification of 42 missed calls—20 from Spike, 20 from Mikhail, and two from Viktor. He sighed, his mind hazy as the events of last night slowly resurfaced. Two bottles of *Everclear*, notorious for its 100% alcohol content, had been more than enough to knock him out. He wondered how he’d managed to fall so deep into the bottle, completely losing himself in the process.

“Let’s hope they buy it.” Arkyn stops and looks at me, his face serious. “Orion, this isn’t just about Zane. The shit we’ve uncovered goes deeper than we thought. These fights are just the surface. There’s trafficking, illegal trading of shifters, packs being decimated from within. But apart from that, there’s another angle I just can’t pinpoint. I’m warning you now: it’s not going to be pretty.” “Pretty was never my style,” I say coldly, locking eyes with him. “I’m here to get the job done, no matter how fucking dirty it gets.”

I whispered. The tattoo of the Aurora Sword in its dagger form slid up my leg and torso then down my arm. It materialized in my hand. I sliced my finger and dripped the blood on the page. The blood turned into a pair of pink wings with a black and white sword crisscrossed through them. "I'm glad we have a deal. We will send reinforcements to your territories edge to keep The Grange at bay." Archer stood. "It is nice to have met you... You know, I didn't get your name."

As he came up to us, I got a closer look at him. He had tanned skin that radiated under the sun and he moved so gracefully like royalty. His eyes were deep amber and he had a perfect body. I sighed, what was worse than having three hot men as mates? He stopped right in front of me and took my hand. I felt sparks inside of me as I made contact with him. My stomach suddenly developed butterflies as I felt a tinge of sensation as his hands held mine. "Hey baby, I am Damon, Alpha of Midnight Pack", he said while searching my face. Shit…another alpha. "Mia", I muttered. He nodded his head and looked towards my other mate, "I guess we are all sharing one mate". They laughed.

No one laughed, but for a beat, it cut the awe. We fanned out a little. Screens were everywhere—some flat, some curved, some just bands of color suspended in mid‑air. Player stats scrolled on a few before blinking out. Others showed jagged waves of code. One large display in the far corner cycled through round tags like a stock ticker: CYCLE 301: BLOOD ARENA – RATINGS STABLE CYCLE 302: AUTHOR GRAVEYARD – AUTHOR IMPACT: ELEVATED CYCLE 303: GAME CITY – KEY AUTHOR THREAT INDEX: RISING