Red Dragon Spaceship Awakening: I Gain Alien Abilities on Mars-Chapter 219: The Assault Begins

They all entered their vehicles and took to the skies, the entire fleet assembling in formation above the New Helios base.

Dozens of craft hovered in the air, engines humming, their hulls gleaming under the pale Martian sun. The larger transports carried the bulk of the fighters, while smaller, more agile Skyblades darted between them, maintaining the perimeter.

Bjorn’s vehicle took the lead, a massive transport that dwarfed most of the others, its exterior painted with the symbols of New Helios and etched with intricate knotwork that glowed faintly. The rest of the convoy fell into formation behind it, following its trajectory as it banked sharply and accelerated toward the North.

Tatehan sat in the pilot seat of his Skyblade, Riven beside him and three other fighters strapped into the seats behind them. The interior was quiet except for the low hum of the engines and the occasional crackle of the comm system as status updates were relayed across the fleet.

As Tatehan sat there, his hands resting on the controls, waiting for arrival, he could not help but hope that this would be a successful mission.

Because how safe were they, really?

The Viking enthusiasm for battle was undeniable. Their entire culture was built around it, honed over generations, passed down from the survivors of Earth’s apocalypse who had refused to give up even when the world itself had tried to change them (tried to make them normal).

They were fearless, relentless, and utterly confident in their ability to win any fight they walked into.

But did that love for battle overshadow their ability to assess whether something was actually safe? Were they charging into this because it was the right tactical move, or just because they were itching for a fight?

Tatehan was not sure. And that uncertainty made him concerned.

Before they had left, Bjorn had approached him, his massive frame looming over Tatehan as he gestured at the armor. "You’re not taking a weapon, lad?"

Tatehan had shaken his head. "Don’t worry about that."

Bjorn had raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, but he had not pressed the issue. He had just shrugged and walked away, moving on to oversee the final preparations.

Tatehan thought about that exchange now, his mind turning it over. Bjorn should have known that you awakened your ability on Mars through a weapon. That was common knowledge. Which meant that Bjorn himself must have awakened his ability through some kind of weapon, probably one of those massive axes or warhammers that the Vikings favored.

So why had he asked?

Maybe he was just being polite. Or maybe he was offering Tatehan the chance to take one of their weapons, to add to his collection, to give him an edge in the coming fight.

Tatehan shrugged internally. If that was the case, he had kind of made a mistake. One of those Viking axes or hammers would have been a great addition to his arsenal, something he could pull out when the situation called for raw, brutal force.

But it was too late now. They were already on their way.

There was a chance he would still get one on the battlefield though.

A voice crackled over the comm, cutting through his thoughts. "Two minutes until we arrive at the bases."

The announcement was broadcast across all the vehicles, a final warning that the mission was about to begin.

Tatehan’s hands tightened slightly on the controls. Two minutes. Two minutes until they landed, until the fighting started and until everything became chaos. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

The plan was simple. Too simple, really. They were not going to waste time with reconnaissance or careful approaches. They were just going to land and attack immediately. Hit hard, hit fast, and overwhelm the defenses before the Obscuron’s forces even knew what was happening.

It was the Viking way. And Tatehan was along for the ride.

Soon, the bases came into view.

Tatehan leaned forward slightly, his visor’s sensors zooming in on the structures below. The two bases were exactly as Bjorn had described them: newly constructed, still in the process of being fortified, their walls half-finished and their defenses sparse. They were positioned in a shallow valley near the edge of the wastelands, their location clearly chosen to provide a strategic foothold for the Obscuron’s expansion into the North.

And because the bases was not yet fully completed they couldn’t detect when a fleet of battle were coming towards them?

Tatehan hoped that was the case.

But right now, they were vulnerable.

And the Vikings were not wasting any time.

One of the larger flying devices, a massive transport that dwarfed even Bjorn’s lead craft, moved ahead of the convoy, positioning itself directly above the first base. The rear hatch opened, and Tatehan saw figures moving inside.

And then they started throwing bombs.

Not launchers, not automated systems. Just people, standing at the open hatch, hurling explosives out into the open air with their bare hands.

There were about five of them, maybe more, and they moved with efficiency, grabbing the compact, cylindrical devices from crates stacked inside the transport and lobbing them down toward the base below.

The bombs fell.

And then they exploded.

Thoom!

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

The blasts erupted across the base, sending plumes of dust and debris into the air. Structures crumbled. Walls collapsed. Flames erupted from the wreckage, and the ground itself seemed to shake from the force of the explosions.

It was not about precision or aiming right actually, that wasn’t the plan at all.

Instead, it was about creating chaos, weakening the defenses and giving the landing forces a momentum advantage so their opponents would be too disoriented, too panicked and too weak to stop them.

It was working!

The vehicles descended rapidly, their engines roaring as they dropped toward the ground. Tatehan followed Bjorn’s lead craft, bringing his Skyblade down in a tight, controlled descent that ended with a heavy thud as the landing gear hit the dirt.

The moment the craft touched down, the rear hatch hissed open.

And everyone stormed out.

Tatehan was on his feet in an instant, his armor’s systems flaring to life as he summoned his chakrams. The twin blades materialized in his hands, their edges gleaming, their weight perfectly balanced in a way though he could feel one was more heavier.

He felt the familiar surge of adrenaline, the sharp focus that came with combat, the way everything else faded away except the immediate need to move, to fight and to survive.

Around him, the other fighters were pouring out of their vehicles, weapons drawn, voices raised in battle cries that echoed across the battlefield.

The Vikings were already charging, their robotic horses thundering forward, their riders wielding axes and hammers that crackled with energy.

They moved like a tidal wave, unstoppable, relentless and roaring as they descended on the base.

And from the base itself, the Obscuron’s forces were responding.

Soldiers emerged from the half-finished structures, armed with plasma rifles and kinetic weapons, their armor bearing the dark, angular insignia of the Obscuron’s army.

They opened fire, beams of energy and projectiles streaking through the air toward the incoming attackers.

But the Vikings did not slow down. They did not hesitate. They just kept charging, absorbing the hits, shrugging off the damage and closing the distance with terrifying speed.

Tatehan ran forward, his chakrams spinning in his hands.

The battle had begun.

Arghhhhh!