Red Dragon Spaceship Awakening: I Gain Alien Abilities on Mars-Chapter 203: THE KNIGHT In Real Life

If Tatehan was being honest, he had no idea that his fights in the knight armor had gone outside of Waython Hollow city.

He had thought it remained within the city, contained to the eyes of the civilians who had witnessed the battles firsthand, maybe circulating through local news feeds and gossip channels.

He had not imagined that footage of him: fighting Cherak in the sky and then surviving a fall that should have killed him, taking down the Boulder-Back Behemoth and dismantling (not actually) the Mech Monster, had somehow made its way across Mars, spreading to other cities, other settlements and becoming something that people talked about in places he had never even visited.

Who knows, perhaps he had made world news. Perhaps his actions had been significant enough that news channels from other cities had seen the footage and broadcasted the news to their cites.

Perhaps he was more recognizable than he had ever realized — as the figure in armor, that is, not as Tatehan.

And now, standing here in his full armor, having just revealed himself to the Viking who had doubted him, the satisfaction of the moment was undeniable.

The Viking stared at him, his pale eyes wide, his mouth slightly open as if searching for words that would not come. For a man who commanded really powerful armies, who had led warriors into battle and come out victorious against impossible odds, he looked genuinely stunned.

Not frightened, not intimidated, but caught completely off guard in a way that clearly did not happen to him often.

For a long, drawn-out moment, he said nothing. He just stared at the armored figure standing across from him, the red glow of the visor’s eyes reflecting faintly in his own.

And then, slowly, almost reluctantly, the Viking sat down. It was a deliberate motion, almost looking reluctant.

Like he didn’t want to believe his eyes.

’Whatttt!’

The KNIGHT guy is standing in front of me?!

There was something in the man’s eyes that felt like acknowledgment. Like defeat, almost, though not in a way that suggested surrender, more like he had been proven wrong and was forced to accept it.

Tatehan allowed himself a brief, internal smile. That felt good.

With a thought, he dismissed the helmet. The silver metal retracted smoothly, folding back into... nowhere and leaving his face exposed once more. His hair was slightly disheveled from the transformation (just a bit), and he ran a hand through it briefly before speaking.

"I actually didn’t know people from outside Waython Hollow had heard of me," Tatehan said, his tone casual but with surprise. "I thought the footage stayed local. Guess I underestimated how fast information travels these days."

He glanced around the table, taking in the expressions of the other leaders. The man from Iron Haven was watching him with a new kind of interest, his hands resting on the table, his eyes sharp and calculating. The leader of Reon Outpost looked impressed, maybe even a little awed, though he was trying to hide it behind a neutral expression.

Tatehan cleared his throat and continued. "As you all know, the Red Crest Clan controls Waython Hollow. Or, well, governs it. It’s a bit of a complicated relationship. The city is technically free, but the clan provides protection, infrastructure, resources. We’re the ones keeping it standing since it was formed, and now,especially after everything that’s happened recently."

He paused, choosing his words carefully. "So if the clan governs and protects the city, then logically, the leader of the clan should be the one representing it here. But she’s busy right now. Dealing with paperwork, coordinating reconstruction efforts and making sure the city doesn’t fall apart while we’re trying to put it back together. And more importantly, she’s staying in charge in case another attack arrives. Someone needs to be there to lead a respond."

Tatehan met the Viking’s gaze directly. "But she wasn’t the one who came up with this idea. The idea of working together, forming an alliance...that was mine. I’m the one who pushed for this meeting. I’m the one who urged that we reach out to your cities. So I’m here representing Waython Hollow and the Red Crest Clan, but this is my initiative."

He let that hang in the air for a moment, making sure everyone understood. This was not some official delegation sent by a council or a commander. This was him, acting on his own conviction (in a way), trying to convince them to do something that might be their only chance at survival.

Tatehan leaned forward slightly, his hands resting on the table. "We shouldn’t linger on formalities too long. We’re neighboring cities. Sure, we’re a bit far from each other, but we’re the closest ones together in this region. If we don’t work together and try to do this solo, we’re going to lose to the Obscuron. But here’s the thing, what is losing if we stay alive and nothing happens? Hell, we can lose all day long if it means we’re still breathing."

His voice hardened, growing more intense. "But we’re not just going to lose now. We’re going to die. All of us. Our cities will be wiped off the surface of Mars, and there won’t be anything left to rebuild."

The room went quiet. The truth of his words settled over them like a heavy blanket made of thick smoke that could choke.

Tatehan straightened, his gaze going across the table. "Do you know the history of the Obscuron?"

The leaders exchanged glances. After a moment, they all nodded faintly, their expressions neutral.

"Good," Tatehan said. "Then you know he’s been around since the early days of colonization. One of the first humans on Mars. And according to everything I’ve read and everything I’ve heard, his goal is simple: he wants to control Mars. He’s a rogue and a warlord, someone who thinks he can carve out his own empire and rule over the rest of us by force."

He paused.

"That’s what I know, anyway. That’s the reason for doing all this. And if that’s true, then we’re fighting someone who wants power. Which means we can negotiate, or at least predict his moves. Power-hungry tyrants follow patterns, they want territory, resources and loyalty. We can work with that."

But before Tatehan could continue, the Viking spoke.

"Well," the man said, his deep voice cutting through the room like a blade, "I did a deeper research. And that isn’t it."

All eyes turned to him.

Tatehan blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

The Viking’s expression was grim, his pale eyes hard as stone. "The Obscuron doesn’t want to control Mars."

He paused, letting the words sink in.

"He wants to wipe humanity off from Mars."

The silence that followed was absolute.

Tatehan felt his breath catch in his throat, his mind struggling to process what he had just heard. Wipe? Not conquer. Not control. Wipe.

Wipe!

Wipeee!

Obliterate!

"What?" Tatehan said again, his voice quieter this time, almost disbelieving.

The Viking stood slowly, his massive frame casting a shadow across the table as he straightened to his full height.

"Let me explain," the Viking said, his voice low.

And the room held its breath...

Literally, everyone heard their breath to hear what the man was about to say.