Novelas y relatos de Arknights Horns

“I’m Princess Nya of Frindom, and I have come to slay the dragon that terrorizes our kingdoms. That’s who I am! Now, if you’ll kindly step aside so that I can find him, I would greatly appreciate it!” “Find him?” the man in black repeated before he gave a slight chuckle and shook his head. Whatever he found amusing about that statement, he didn’t elaborate at the moment. Instead, he continued his inquiry, as if Nya owed him an explanation. “If you are princess of Frindom, what are you doing in Goodhorn?”

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 his entire head, silencing him as the horn hit the ground with a thud.

There was Three Old Woman standing, dressed in an ancient way, All holding the horns of a Unicorn. A Black line ran from their forehead through the nose down to the lower lips. Their eyes was pale green and their lips were painted black. Not excluding the pointed nose "You have defiled Sabrina and your Soul, She has requested." They chorused in a gruff voice. Hannah gasped as she took few steps back. They pointed the Unicorn's Horns forward as they walked into the house helping to break through the barrier. "Estarantio Windo!" Hannah roared causing wind at them but getting to them, the horns backfired it and she crashed over the table.

And on the other side of the tower, past the poisoned heart of the Citadel, a sound which no one had heard in years. A horn. Deep. Old. Silver in pitch and death in intent. The True Luna's horn. Perfera stumbled back, her magic blasting out of control. The black flame in her palm hissed, danced then was extinguished. "No," she said again, this time breaking. "She burned. I saw her scream.". Miyal was standing tall now, surrounded by light that pulsed in rhythm to that terrible, divine horn. Her chains lay in fragments. Her lips trembled as she addressed Perfera once again:

The second horn blast had barely faded when the frostlands erupted into motion. “Positions!” Mira’s voice cut sharply through the cold air. Warriors scattered into formation, boots crunching against frozen earth. Steel flashed as blades were drawn. Magic shimmered faintly along defensive wards hastily erected between broken stone pillars. Kael did not move immediately. The pendant burned against his palm, heat pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. Its glow had deepened since the horn sounded, no longer faint but alive, reacting to something unseen beyond the horizon.

The air exploded. Gasps. Outrage. Shock. Kael roared in fury. “You can’t—!” “I can,” I said, silver light flaring once more. “And I just did.” The ground trembled. Somewhere in the distance, a horn sounded—different from before. Older. The seer’s eyes widened in fear. “That horn…” she whispered. “That’s not a pack.” Ronan turned sharply toward the eastern horizon. “Then what is it?” The seer swallowed.

But they kept going. From Nightclaw cliffs, silence. For 2 minutes. 5 minutes. Then one voice joined. Just one. Young. Female. The girl who gave Arjun the knife. Her howl was thin, uncertain. But it was there. Then another joined. A male voice. Older. Then another. Not all of Nightclaw. Not even half. But 6, 7 voices from the cliffs wove into the valley’s chord. Thorn didn’t howl. He stood with Kade, hand on the boy’s shoulder. Kade closed his eyes and howled too. Child’s voice, high and clear.

A heavy, mechanical horn bellowed from its deck—a deep, metallic roar that shook the glass windows of the port buildings and echoed across the entire coastal valley like a declaration of doom. Natalia drew her twin short-swords, the silver light of her aura flaring to its absolute maximum, cutting through the black smoke of the armada like a beacon of unyielding light. "Sound the drums," the Lycan Queen commanded, her voice echoing across the fortified sea-walls. "Welcome them to our shores."

Someone behind me was already taking bets on how many horns I’d manage before I toppled, and I tried not to listen too closely to the numbers. The drums picked up again, faster this time, matching the frantic beat of my own pulse. Around the hall, warriors struck their horns together in a ragged rhythm, each sharp clang answered by another until the entire hall pulsed as one. My father had once told me it was an old Blackthorn custom. One horn answered another, just as the pack always answered its own. I tightened my grip around the carved horn, its polished wood damp with condensation, and lifted my eyes to meet Asger’s across the table. “On my count!” the auburn-haired warrior bellowed, va

I left a few minutes later, after repeating the instruction to her, and ensuring that she understood everything I told her. The forest was dark but my eyes had become used to it. I was heading for the left side of the forest, in the opposite direction from where Avira was hiding. I continued walking until I came across the pack's moonhorn. An ancient instrument made with a horn with symbols of a fiery moon inscribed all over it. It was placed on a raised platform, like an altar. Warriors use it to call on each other when there is danger, or to summon each other to an assembly. I looked around me to be sure that no one was within me, and reached for the moonhorn. I brought it close to my mout