Fgo Riders Novels & Stories

“You’re hiding in a pack that doesn’t see you. A Fang’s leech, living in their shadow. You’re strong, but they’ll never trust you. They’ll use you. Until you break.” Her fingers curled into fists. How could he know? How could he see so clearly through the armor she’d spent years building? “And you?” she shot back. “What’s your angle, Rider? Collecting strays? Marking territory you think you own?” His eyes glinted silver in the moonlight. “I don’t collect. I claim what’s mine.” “I’m not yours,” she hissed. Silence spread heavy across the Riders, broken only by the low hum of idling bikes. Axel studied her like she was a puzzle he was already halfway through solving.

The riders were coming, and she had no idea who they were or what they wanted, but she could feel the tension in the air—thick with danger. The riders appeared over the ridge, their forms silhouetted against the rising moon. There were four of them, each on horseback, their cloaks billowing in the wind. Their faces were obscured by masks, but there was something in the way they moved, something familiar about them. "The Lunar Sentinels," Caelum muttered under his breath, his voice tight with anger.

There were no fallen leaves on the ground and so their feet landed on soft grass, the noise padded. “Someone grabbed me back there,” Riyin said after he had swiped at his face. “That would be me. You almost got yourself killed.” What? Yisuf almost got him killed. “How do you mean, there was a clearing up ahead.” Yisuf sighed. “Yes, and you would have run straight into the Mahi Riders’ camp. The Mahi Riders? Who were those? Riyin had never heard of them before. Yisuf sensed the boy’s ignorance. “Did Thorn raise you in a cave? I hear dragons love to stay there where they can remain ancient and out of touch.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Ragnar watching it all from the sidelines, like a messenger of death himself. A rogue tries to flee. Ragnar's scythe spins out of his hand, decapitating him, but he doesn't kill him, I notice, just as someone knocks me down and just like that, I'm carried into the heat of the battle again. Ryker, on the other hand, blurs between wolf and human, leaving dead men in his wake till the last of the rogues stands. "Who sent you?" Ryker asks. I wobble on my feet, completely exhausted but manage to keep the stray wolf firmly in a chokehold.

“The Biker Brothers, the five guys that ride with the Road Warriors? Black hair? Blue eyes?” “Couple of them twins?” she asked, yes. Those guys.” “I don’t know them, but I know their president is Adam Hunt. They’re right up her alley, aren’t they?” she asked. “Not helping. Though, the oldest the brother is the vice president of that club. I didn’t know you knew their president.” “Yep. Adam his name, comes and talks to me whenever I’m bartending and he’s there. He doesn’t frequent as much as his club is starting to but the shit with your mom is gross. Where’s she now?”

A dozen riders waited outside in the snow. Not Thorncrest. Their armor was blackened silver. Their horses were pale as bone. Their faces were hidden behind wolf-shaped helms, and every one of them carried a banner I had seen only in carvings beneath the tower. A crowned Lycan kneeling beside a human queen. The lead rider dismounted. Slowly. Then dropped to one knee in the snow. The others followed. One by one. Kneeling. Not to Cassian. To me. Mara whispered, “Oh, hell.”

The once busy roads of the Kingdom of Myrthana were mostly empty. Except for Orcs and mercenaries, almost no one dared travel between towns or villages. The road to Erylas, the capital of Myrthana, was empty except for four riders and their horses. A fifth horse had the carcasses of two deer and some pelts and furs. The riders were dressed simple—trousers, pants, and cloaks. The cloaks were mottled grey, green, and brown. A man with wings was embroidered on the left side of the cloaks—the mark of the Dark God. The riders had the hoods of their cloaks over their heads, and shadows hid their faces. They rode in silence, studying the dusty road or the green forest.

It looked harmless, but it could obliterate the fortress and the nearby mountains. It was risky; the king held himself because even his squad might be caught in danger once he unleashed its full power. He paused momentarily, just waiting for one last signal before he would let go of the power in his hands. Airoh finally smiled when he perceived the approaching winged creatures. The reinforcement he kept waiting for earlier. The sky was suddenly full of flocking dragons—each bearing the flag of Alegerio, every demifae dragon rider carrying a black spear. Neilmyr.

I nodded my approval and looked towards the other man. “I am the fastest horse rider, my Lord, and my name is…” he tried to introduce himself fully but I cut him short. “I can't know every name!” I told him plainly. “Listen to my order, horse rider!” He knelt down in preparation to take my order. I looked at his cloth and from the inscription on it, he was a prominent member of the elite force. All of them wore black attires but their leaders could be known from the little inscriptions of shapes on their clothes.

And then, the low thud of hooves. Her eyes snapped open. “Someone’s coming,” she said. Luca jogged up, wiping his blade on a rag, eyes sharp. “From the east. One rider.” Ragnar’s eyes narrowed, lightning crackling softly across his knuckles before fading. “Prepare the guards,” Raven ordered, stepping down from the balcony, the bandages around her waist forgotten as strength surged through her limbs. They met the rider at the gates, warriors flanking Raven, Ragnar at her side.