Red Dragon Spaceship Awakening: I Gain Alien Abilities on Mars-Chapter 201: The Summit Begins

The hall was smaller than Tatehan had expected.

He had imagined something grand and large.

Perhaps a place with towering ceilings, ornate decorations, and rows of seats arranged in ceremonial form.

But this was different.

The room was circular, perhaps thirty feet in diameter, with smooth white walls that likely seemed to absorb sound rather than reflect it. In the center sat a round table made of dark, polished metal, its surface embedded with holographic emitters that cast a faint, ambient glow. Six chairs were arranged around it, each one identical in design: high-backed, ergonomic, definitely built for long discussions.

Tatehan was the third to arrive.

The leader of New Helios was already seated when Tatehan entered, his presence impossible to ignore even in the quiet stillness of the room.

The man was massive, not in the way of someone who had simply grown tall, I mean... tall was tall... but in the way of someone who had been built for war.

It was a common fact that Vikings were built for war.

His shoulders were broad enough to fill the doorway, his arms thick with muscle that strained against the fabric of his sleeves. He sat with the kind of confidence that came from knowing, absolutely and without question, that he was the most dangerous person in the room.

But it was his clothing that truly captured Tatehan’s attention.

The leader of New Helios wore armor, but it was unlike anything Tatehan had seen before. The base layer was a sleek, form-fitting bodysuit made of dark, matte-black material that looked like advanced tactical weave, something designed to regulate temperature, disperse kinetic force, and probably stop a blade or two.

Over that, he wore plated armor styled in the unmistakable aesthetic of ancient Viking warriors: overlapping segments of reinforced alloy shaped to resemble traditional lamellar, each piece etched with intricate knotwork patterns that glowed faintly with integrated circuitry.

The pauldrons were massive, sculpted to resemble the heads of snarling wolves.

A fur mantle draped across his shoulders, the pelt of some Martian creature Tatehan did not recognize. It was thick, bristling, and a deep charcoal grey. It was held in place by a heavy clasp shaped like a raven, its wings spread wide, crafted from what looked like burnished bronze.

His helmet rested on the table in front of him. It was a work of art: a full-face piece with a T-shaped visor, the sides flared out into curved horns that swept back like the antlers of some ancient beast. The metal was dark, almost black actually.

The man himself had a thick beard, braided and threaded with small metal rings, and his hair was pulled back into a series of tight, intricate knots. His eyes were pale blue, sharp and assessing, and when he glanced at Tatehan, there was no warmth in them, only evaluation.

Tatehan found himself staring, almost mesmerized.

This was... IT.

This was the aesthetic he had been imagining when he read about New Helios in the archives. Vikings. Actual, honest-to-god Vikings, but dragged kicking and screaming into the future and somehow made even more formidable in the process. It was insane. It was ridiculous. It was absolutely incredible!

He wanted one of those mantles.

Flanking the leader were two guards, both dressed in similar armor but less ornate, their faces hidden behind visored helmets. They stood perfectly still, hands resting on the hilts of weapons that looked like a hybrid between traditional axes and plasma projectors.

Tatehan pulled his gaze away from the New Helios delegation and turned his attention to the other occupant of the room.

The leader of Iron Haven sat across from the Viking, and the contrast between the two could not have been more stark.

Where the leader of New Helios was all bulk and presence, the leader of Iron Haven was lean, wiry, and unassuming. He wore normal clothing, simple stuff, a grey tunic with stitching, dark trousers tucked into worn boots, and a long coat made of treated leather that hung open at the front. There was no armor and no decoration, nothing that screamed power or authority. He looked more like a dockworker than a city leader.

About two guards flanked him.

Tatehan entered the hall, his own two guards trailing behind him, and both leaders looked up. The Viking’s expression did not change, but the man from Iron Haven offered a small, polite nod.

Tatehan returned the gesture, nodding to each of them in turn.

"Gentlemen."

The Viking grunted, a low, rumbling sound that might have been acknowledgment or dismissal. The man from Iron Haven simply inclined his head again, his expression neutral.

Tatehan took his seat, his guards moving to stand behind him in silence. The chair was surprisingly comfortable, molding itself slightly to his posture as he settled in.

And then they waited.

It was remaining one person...

The silence was not uncomfortable.

Each leader sat with their own thoughts, their own agendas and their own concerns. Tatehan found his gaze drifting back to the New Helios leader, unable to help himself.

The man was just so damn cool. The armor, the mantle, the braided beard: it was like someone had taken every badass Viking trope from Earth’s history and upgraded it with Martian technology. Which was likely the case. The Vikings had upgraded their armors and everything to fit this current age while still making it how it was.

It was exactly the kind of thing Tatehan would have geeked out over if he had seen it in a movie or a video game.

But this was real. This was sitting right across from him.

He allowed himself a small, internal grin. If nothing else came from this summit, at least he could say he had met an actual futuristic Viking.

Five minutes passed.

And then, with a soft groan, the door slid open again.

The leader of Reon Outpost entered, moving quickly, his expression apologetic. He was a younger man, mid-thirties, maybe, with close-cropped hair and a lean, angular face.

He wore a normal clothing similar to the Iron Haven leader.

Two guards followed him in, both of them clad in lightweight armor.

"Apologies for the delay," the man said.

He did not waste time with pleasantries and simply moved to his seat and dropped into it.

"Transit issues. Won’t happen again."

The Viking grunted again. The Iron Haven leader gave another of his small nods. Tatehan just watched, saying nothing.

And then they waited again.

Soon the leader of Leionitt city entered.

She was clothed in a suit and wore a black skirt.

She apologized for the delay and sat down.

Then the door opened one final time.

A Crosspoint official stepped in, a tall, slender lady in formal robes.

"The Summit of the Four Cities is now convened," the official announced. "What is discussed within this chamber is confidential and binding. No recordings and no external communications. The integrity of this discussion is paramount."

She paused, her gaze going across the room, making sure everyone understood.

And with that, the official turned and left, the door sliding shut behind her with a soft sound.

The room fell silent.

For a long moment, no one moved, until slowly, Tatehan rose to his feet.

All eyes turned to him.

Tatehan stood, his hands resting lightly on the edge of the table, his gaze going across the faces of the four leaders seated before him. The Viking from New Helios watched him with those pale, unreadable eyes, his expression carved from medieval stone. The man from Iron Haven sat with his hands folded on the table, his posture relaxed but attentive. The leader of Reon Outpost leaned forward slightly, his restless energy momentarily stilled and waiting. The leader of Leionitt was the most friendly, she looked at him with a slight welcoming smile.

The silence stretched for a heartbeat longer, and then Tatehan spoke.

"As you all know," he began, his voice steady."The reason for this meeting, the reason we’re all sitting here instead of dealing with our own problems back in our cities, is because of the Obscuron."

"You’ve heard of him," Tatehan continued. "I’m sure you have. Everyone on Mars has heard of him by now. Some of you have probably been dealing with his attacks longer than I have."

He paused, gathering his thoughts, choosing his words carefully.

"The Obscuron is not just some rogue warlord with a grudge. He’s not a bandit leader or a terrorist with limited resources. He is organized, strategic, and devastatingly effective. He commands forces that range from genetically modified monstrosities to advanced war machines that can level entire city blocks. And he’s been using them, actively, against all of us."

Tatehan’s gaze shifted to the Viking then to everyone.

"I really don’t know how severe your attacks have been but ours have been a damn lot severe. Waython hollow, we’ve been hit just as hard. Maybe harder. In less than a week, we’ve faced two massive assaults. First, creatures from the wastelands. Really vicious things. Most noticable

a creature called the Boulder-Back Behemoth. A walking tank of muscle and stone that tore through our residential districts like they were made of paper. We killed it, but not before entire blocks were leveled and dozens of civilians were caught in the crossfire."

"And then, just days later, we were hit again. This time by a Mech Monster..."