Arknights Horns Novels & Stories

When I returned to the manor the next day, they were, of course, still there. Damian took a deep breath and walked out of the house. He was holding an ancient horn. It was jet black and inlaid with a dragon crystal the size of a fist. "Lyra," his voice trembled. "The legendary horn, said to command all beasts. I give it to you now, as a sign of my submission." I took the horn and examined it.

We dive aside, the shield absorbing the scattered debris that follows. Then—impact. My boots slam against solid bone. We’re on his head. The horn towers over us, as tall as Phineas and Elio combined. A rune flares to life across its surface, glowing like molten gold seared into black stone. Aithon lets out a scream so loud it vibrates the air, his massive body jerking as if struck. For the first time, he slows. But only for a heartbeat. He thrashes violently, shaking his massive frame. Phineas stumbles, reaching out to steady himself on the horn. His palm meets the burning surface—his scream pierces the air as his skin sizzles.

It was a two-handed weapon that looked difficult to wield, but Avril assured me she was proficient at it. Prince Thorn and his mate, Princess Ariana, were with us. Thorn's armour was also made from Phaikón Árgyron. Instead of being mail, it was an intricately designed chest plate. Moonstone accents adorned his gauntlets, greaves, and chest plate, pulsating with magical energy that resonated.

Five people to sneak into the heart of the enemy. They gathered in a smaller cave that served as an armory. It wasn't filled with swords and shields, but with tools of subtle war. Ronan traded his crystal-tipped spear for a wicked-looking knife made of black, volcanic glass, its edge so sharp it seemed to cut the light. He checked the tension of a powerful, compact crossbow, its bolts tipped with a paralytic toxin derived from a desert scorpion.

And as they stepped out into the rising sun, the army of Elyria stirred behind them—ready to burn a path through blood and fire to reclaim what was stolen and bury what had lingered too long in shadow. Before they could say more, the blare of the Nyxorian horn ripped through the thin canvas of Triston's tent, a low, echoing horn, raw, aggressive, that left no room for doubt, cutting through the morning air—a deep, resonant blast that rolled over the plains like thunder. It wasn't merely a wake-up call; it was a challenge, a declaration of intent. The three of them, poised on the precipice of battle, froze for a shared instant, the final remnants of pre-dawn stillness evaporating, the finalit

I traced the hand holding the gun, and my sight met that of the pair of eyes that'll forever hunt me. They were bloodred eyes!

she said, her voice trembling despite her effort to sound brave, “then do it.” Kael didn’t reach for his weapon. Instead, he glanced past her toward the burning pack grounds. Something flickered across his face. Not triumph. Not cruelty. Anger. “You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered. Lyra blinked. “What?” He stepped closer. Too close. Heat from the burning hall wrapped around them both as his gaze moved across her face like he was memorizing it. Then distant horns sounded from the northern ridge. Nightfang horns. Retreat. Kael’s jaw tightened.

The soldiers of this army are wraiths, they look like normal Nayaki soldiers but they are undead, they match the strength of the king and they cannot be killed. The second secret is the warrior hornets, they are always summoned at the last minute. They were mostly left at the palace during the war to protect the Queen. Since Treven knew the identity of the person wielding Hwaja's magic, he left all of the hornets at home, they are the one thing Hwaja fears the most. If His aunt manages to attack his Queen alone, the hornets will sting her to death. Besides he trusts the power that Natalí blessed his Queen with.

"Stay behind me." Under different circumstances, she might have argued. Instead, a bitter laugh almost escaped her. The thing emerging from the arch looked capable of tearing down fortresses. Cassian's sword suddenly seemed very small. The creature pushed forward again. A section of the arch exploded outward. Chunks of ancient stone crashed across the snow, and something emerged from the darkness—a massive horn, black as obsidian and twisted into impossible angles. It didn't look like bone. It looked as though a piece of the night sky had been ripped free and shaped into a weapon.

And every time, I knew exactly who he was thinking about. Aria. The realization annoyed me more than I cared to admit. I was still thinking about it when a servant hurried toward me. She looked worried. "Lady Selene." I turned toward her. "What happened?" The servant looked relieved to find me. "We have a problem." "What kind of problem?" "The Mooncrest wine." I frowned. "What about it?" "We can't find it." "The special bottles?" She nodded anxiously. "The Alpha specifically requested them for tonight's banquet."