Arknights Fang Novels & Stories

Scarlet winked. "Maybe if you cut your hair a bit shorter and straightened ….much less kinky...curly? I don't know...you won't have to worry about having so much metal in your hair." Alicia suggested. "Fangs off my hair Alicia. This baby is going nowhere." She hissed. "Okay-okay!" Alicia snorts,"Just saying." "Well it's the only thing she is passionate about besides dueling. "Oh that's right." Scarlet let out a devilish grin. In a split second a carefully aimed dagger was seen propelled towards Alicia, it's sharp end positioned to inevitably pierce it's target.

As I sensed some movements in the dimly lit alley, a subtle rustling that sent a chill down my spine. Instinctively, I tightened my grip on her hand, preparing myself for the unknown. Four figures materialized from the darkness, their menacing presence unmistakable, they were Lycans. Among them, one stood out, adorned in a reddish-white royal robe that billowed around its powerful frame. Its eyes burned with an intense crimson glow, captivating and unnerving simultaneously. This was no ordinary encounter; I was being ambushed by the infamous Red Fang Pack.

Rin said. He flashed teeth. “Talia says he’s Voran’s favorite weapon,” he added, as if that were a trump card. “She sparred with some Nightfang scouts once. They said the whole pack is afraid of him. And in awe of him. And also want to kiss him or stab him, depending on the day.” “So, Nightfang,” Rin said. “That’s just Tuesday for them.” Fen laughed, then sobered slightly. “Seriously, though. Are you okay with all this?”

“What is its purpose?” Aganju didn’t answer immediately. She tilted her head, eyes locking on me for a fraction of a second. My chest tightened, a cold pulse of anticipation threading through me, as if she were savoring every beat of my restraint. For an instant, I feared she wouldn’t speak at all, letting the silence stretch into something unbearable, twisting the tension tighter around my ribs. Then she turned her gaze back to the elders. “That is the most powerful weapon in all of Fangshire.”

I blurred past him, landing a strike to his ribs and another to his throat, dropping him like a sack. The others followed, but I moved faster, jabbing pressure points, snapping arms, sweeping legs out from under them until groans and thuds filled the air. Draven fought just as hard, feral and focused. His fists cracked bone, and soon we stood surrounded by groaning, incapacitated bodies. He grabbed one of them by the shirt and yanked it up, exposing his back. There it was, the seal. “The Pale Fang,” he muttered, jaw tightening. “Same as the one in the woods.”

Fang, my beta and the commander of the shadow warriors – my special and most powerful fighters, distinct from my normal army - had a thing for making his prey suffer before finally killing them off. The frizzled hair warrior was about to fire again, before I could scream at him to stop, Nate broke free and dashed towards the warrior, knocking the warrior into the air and tossing the gun into the distance. The shock on Fang’s face did not go unnoticed, he must be wondering why Nate was desperate to save the half breed. Nate barreled towards her, with one swift movement of her claws he cuts the rope and she falls to the ground. The fear in her eyes were almost palatable as she backed away with

She grins and slings her bow across her back with all the flair of a seasoned warrior queen. Claw saunters over with two daggers in hand and a very smug expression. “Who wants to bet I get the first kill today?” “I’ll bet you trip over your ego and stab yourself in the foot,” Fang deadpans, strapping a throwing axe to her thigh. "And no one's killing. Just raiding." “You wound me,” Claw clutches his chest dramatically, “but I’ll take that bet. Ten bucks says I tag a patrol guard before you even unsheathe that pretty little blade.”

A few laughs broke out, thinking it was some strange joke, but Aragon’s eyes bulged, his face turning an alarming shade of purple. His hands clawed at his throat, his entire body seizing as he tried to suck in a breath. Kael’s chair scraped back as he stood, his eyes narrowing as he watched Aragon writhing, fighting for air. “What’s going on?” he muttered, looking around the table. Aragon’s beta—a tall, bald man with a stern face—jumped to his feet, his eyes blazing with anger. “What is the meaning of this? Who served him?” he barked, his stance defensive, like he was ready to shift into wolf form.

His claws caught the nearest intruder in the gut, throwing him across the room in a bloody arc. But the others poured in behind him. Masks. Silver-edged weapons. And the crest he hadn’t seen in five years—black fangs over a red moon. Crimson Fangs. His blood turned to ice. One of them, a female, tall, cloaked, and familiar, stepped forward and removed her mask. Lyra froze. “Talia?” Talia smiled. “Hello, cousin.” RONAN The world went quiet the moment Lyra said that name.

With a soft, comforting tone, he said, “ You can talk to me about it, Luna.” He had observed the shadows in her eyes and the way she occasionally balled her fists when she believed no one was watching. With her knuckles white and her hands resting lightly on the table's edge, Ravena came to a stop right in front of him. Her eyes, which were normally so piercing and decisive, now flashed with resentment and deep-seated pain. “I want to penetrate Nightfang,” she said, breaking the silence in the room. Her anger seemed to be sparked by the name alone. “I want to know everything going on there. The closer I get, the easier it will be to know their plans.”