Arknights Horns Novels & Stories

I look at her confuse and I look at the open door she opens widely where I can see the dark forest outside the town walls. “How? I-I don’t know what to do?” I ask her as we can still hear the endless screaming and the clicking of metals. “Here, think of calling those monsters that can help us before you blow into that horn. When you will do that they will listen to your call and come rushing to help.” Lana said looking so excited. I look at the little horn with the size of my hand and look like a spiral Florida cone shell with this golden color with sparkling glittery like diamonds. I look at Lana to see her smiling at me as if encouraging me to do it.

My pulse was pounding, and the connection between Aria and me tightened, her fear cutting through me like a sharp blade. “Impossible,” Rowan breathed. “We saw him fall.” “He didn’t fall,” I said quietly, eyes locked on the man who had taken everything from her. “He was waiting.” Zac raised his sword, and the mist erupted into motion. I drew mine, the sound of steel splitting the air like lightning. “Ready yourselves,” I roared, my voice carrying through the ranks. “Tonight, we fight for our Luna. For our pack. For the dawn!” The war horn blew again...louder, closer, urgent.

The horn, forged from the bone of a dragon long extinct, roared across the land like thunder. BOOOOOOOM! It echoed across the mountains, down into the forests, and through every home in the pack. Men jumped from beds. Women reached for blades. Children clung to mothers. The warriors assembled—lined up in full armor, their eyes burning with fury and purpose. Even those not called to battle hurried to the pack’s arena, anxious and wide-eyed, waiting for their alpha. Damian stepped forward from the shadows—armor black as night, cloak billowing like smoke, and a deadly calm in his silver eyes.

The sound that accompanied it was not crackling but grinding, like stone remembering how to become something living. The battle horn formed in his grasp. It was massive, carved from what appeared to be the curved horn of some ancient leviathan, its surface etched with infernal runes that pulsed faintly in time with Apollo’s heartbeat. Veins of obsidian ran through the pale bone like fossilised lightning. The mouthpiece tapered into dark metal, still warm from its conjuring, while the flared end widened into a jagged crown. The chamber fell silent as he closed his hand around it.

The moment my icy blade touched the ground, a flash of ice shards erupted and a strand of ice froze the ground towards Aries. Even the moisture in the air turned to shards. The ice raced up his legs, anchoring him to the arena in a massive block of ice. I swung my hellblade again and used his own momentum and aimed for his blazing horns. Because his feet were frozen solid, his upper body kept moving forward right against my blade. CRACK. The sound of his bronze armor buckling and his obsidian horns snapping against the ice and my sword was sickening. The fire on his horns went out and exploded from the cold strike from my blade. Aries let out a final, muffled bleat before the frost encased h

He swung the blade in a circular flourish and slid it back into its sheath expertly. The Knights on the platform, as well as those gathered nearby, broke into applause. Each new Knight was presented with armor and a Khortaal. They each drew their new blade, raising them in salute toward the Dragon. “Black Knights!” boomed Ghaeron, “You are now the sword that defends Edon. The steel that protects the innocent, and banishes the wicked.”

Turning to him, I furrowed my brows in confusion, wishing there was a way for me to understand what all of them obviously knew… “Ani?” I asked gently, needing to know more than anything. Needing something in this new mad world to make sense… The horned god drew in a deep breath and set down his food, his eyes distant as if contemplating how to explain. Well, as long as he didn’t try to hide anything from me, that was a small comfort… “As I said, a Muse--- AH!” He suddenly snarled, his hand flying to his head as if someone had struck him. But even before I could really react to it, his eyes snapped open, blazing red with fury that even had me jumping back.

A howl splits the night—no, not a howl. A horn. A hunter’s horn. The sound that means: Mark the target. Contain the anomaly. Eliminate if necessary. Cain’s hand finds the side of my face, brief, desperate, grounding. “We stay together,” he murmurs. “Always,” I breathe. He nods once. The bond pulses between us— stronger than any command. Stronger than any moon. Stronger than the god still watching from the cracks. And as the first hunter steps out of the forest—armor glowing with ritual sigils, blades dripping moon poison—

HornedMaw bows to him, showing the customary respect to elders and superiors; more than befitting one regarded as a living legend in the tribes of Ma’Nyla. The vanguard seperates itself from the main party in the shadows of a gigantic ant hill, already in formation with EmeraldEyes to lead the path and HornedMaw to secure their flank. One of the members between them lifts a dry gourd, whispering colorful wisps of air into it before breaking the shell against a sharp, stone edge. He uses the red liquid gathered on its shards to paint his comrades’ faces, arms and legs. After all have been streaked crimson, he shrieks, “Hassste!” Leaves fly and rattle against the ant hill, then float to the no

Knights were gathered in clusters—some sharpening blades, some stirring pots over low fires. “Lady Abby!” One of the younger knights waved me over, holding out a small crate. “Mana stones and monster materials,” he said proudly. “Already sorted.” I accepted the crate with a nod. Inside, I could see the dull gleam of stones—half of them still warm from battle. Fangs. Claws. Even a few blackened feathers from one of the rift beasts. “Good work,” I said, voice steady. Alaric stepped up beside me again, glancing down into the crate.