The next morning came too quickly.

Tatehan woke in the small quarters the Red Crest Clan had assigned him, a modest room with a bed, a desk, and not much else. He'd barely slept, his mind too active with plans and contingencies.

But there was no time to dwell on exhaustion.

Today was about preparation.

The day unfolded in a blur of activity.

First, they gathered the explosives.

Tatehan and Lyra met with the tech division in one of the lower levels of the base, a workshop filled with tools, components, and half-assembled devices. The lead engineer, a wiry man named Torvan, showed them the prototype bombs.

They were tiny (no bigger than a marble) and almost perfectly spherical. Each one was coated in a matte black material that absorbed light, making them nearly invisible against dark backgrounds.

"These beauties are packed with compressed plasma charges," Torvan explained, holding one up between his fingers. "Small, but devastating. Plant one of these on a structural weak point, and it'll punch right through."

"And they're remote-controlled?" Lyra asked.

Torvan nodded.

"Fully. We'll have operators monitoring them from the command center. When you give the signal, we detonate."

Tatehan examined one of the bombs, impressed by the craftsmanship.

"How many can you make in three days?" he asked.

Torvan grinned.

"Already made fifty," he said. "Figured you'd want extras."

"Crazy stuff!" Tatehan muttered in surprise.

Next, they tested the equipment.

The training grounds were located on the outskirts of the base, a wide, open area with obstacle courses, firing ranges, and flight zones.

Tatehan stood at the edge of the flight zone, staring down at the pair of hovering boots Lyra had given him.

"You sure about this?" he asked.

Lyra smirked.

"Only one way to find out," she said.

Tatehan slipped the boots on. They fit snugly, the straps adjusting automatically to his feet. The moment they activated, he felt a strange sensation, like the ground was no longer solid beneath him.

"Alright," Lyra said, demonstrating with her own pair. "The boots respond to your movements. Lean forward to go forward. Lean back to slow down. Tilt your body to turn. It's all about balance."

She lifted off the ground effortlessly, rising about ten meters into the air.

Tatehan took a deep breath, then pushed off.

The boots hummed, and suddenly he was airborne.

It was disorienting at first, his stomach lurched as the ground fell away, but after a few seconds, he started to get the hang of it. He leaned forward, and the boots propelled him forward. He tilted left, and he banked smoothly.

"Not bad!" Lyra called out, flying alongside him.

Tatehan grinned despite himself.

This was actually kind of fun.

They spent hours practicing, flying in formation, maneuvering through obstacles, simulating combat scenarios. Lyra was a patient teacher, correcting his form and giving tips on how to maximize speed and control.

By the end of the session, Tatehan felt confident. Not perfect, but confident.

That afternoon, they gathered the forty selected soldiers for a full practice run.

The strike team assembled in the main hangar, men and women in full combat gear, their faces serious and focused. Tatehan stood at the front with Lyra, looking out at them.

"Alright," Lyra said, her voice carrying across the hangar. "This is a simulation of the assault. We're going to run through the entire mission—launch, approach, breach, plant explosives, and extract. Treat this like the real thing."

The soldiers nodded, their expressions determined.

They ran the drill three times.

Each time, they refined the plan, adjusted the timing, identified potential problems. By the third run, the team moved like a well-oiled machine, fast, efficient, coordinated.

Tatehan watched them, feeling a mix of pride and dread.

These people were good. Really good.

But that didn't mean they'd all come back.

That night, Tatehan stood alone on the balcony outside his quarters.

The base was quiet now, most of the soldiers asleep or preparing for the mission in their own ways. The Martian sky stretched above him, dark and vast, scattered with unfamiliar stars.

He leaned against the railing, his hands gripping the cold metal.

Tomorrow, they'd launch the assault.

Tomorrow, people might die.

And it would be his fault if they did.

Doubt crept in slowly, insidious and cold.

What if the plan failed? What if the bombs didn't work? What if he made the wrong call and got everyone killed?

He exhaled slowly, trying to push the thoughts away. But they lingered.

He stared up at the sky, at the place where the fortress hung, invisible in the darkness.

And he wondered if he was ready for this.

———

Tatehan woke the next morning to the sound of his communicator buzzing.

He groaned, rolling over in bed and fumbling for the device on the small table beside him. The screen glowed softly in the dim light of his quarters, displaying a message notification.

Riven: You still alive out there?

Tatehan blinked the sleep from his eyes and typed back.

Tatehan: Barely. What's up?

The reply came almost instantly.

Riven: The rhino creature. Still out there. But other hunters are closing in. If we don't move now, we lose it.

Tatehan sat up, suddenly more awake.

The rhinoceros monster. He'd almost forgotten about it with everything else going on. But Riven was right, if other hunters got to it first, they'd lose the cores. And more importantly, they'd lose the potential for another upgrade core.

He thought about the silver core that had transformed his armor. If the rhino dropped something similar, or better, it could make a real difference in the upcoming assault.

Tatehan: When?

Riven: Today. Morning. Meet me at my place.

Tatehan hesitated for a moment, then typed back.

Tatehan: I'll be there.

He found Lyra and the commander in the briefing room, going over last-minute logistics.

"I need to step out for a few hours," Tatehan said without preamble.

The commander looked up from the holographic display, her expression neutral.

"Where?" she asked.

"Meeting a friend," Tatehan said. "I'll be back before nightfall."

The commander studied him for a moment, then nodded.

"Alright," she said. "Just make sure you're back in time. We have final preparations tomorrow."

Lyra glanced at him, curiosity flickering in her eyes, but she didn't ask questions.

———

Riven's apartment looked the same as it had the last time he'd visited—small, cramped, but clean. She was waiting for him when he arrived, already geared up in light combat armor with her explosive rifle slung over her shoulder.

"Took you long enough," she said, though there was no real bite in her tone.

"Had to clear it with my... bosses," Tatehan said, stepping inside.

Riven raised an eyebrow.

"Bosses?" she repeated. "Since when do you answer to anyone?"

Tatehan sighed, closing the door behind him.

"It's complicated," he said.

Riven crossed her arms, leaning against the counter.

"So where have you been living?" she asked.

"Red Crest Clan building," Tatehan said. "I've been staying there."

Riven's eyes widened slightly.

"The Red Crest Clan?" she said.

"Yeah," Tatehan said.

He told her about the sky fortress. About the Obscuron's plan to build a base above Waython Hollow and rain destruction down on the city. About how he'd been chosen to lead the assault to stop it.

Riven listened in silence, her expression growing more serious with each word.

When he finished, she let out a low whistle.

"That's... a lot," she said.

"Yeah," Tatehan agreed.

Riven was quiet for a moment, then she looked him in the eye.

"You have no choice," she said firmly. "The Obscuron's plan needs to be stopped, or we're all doomed. You know that, right?"

Tatehan nodded.

"I know," he said.

Riven hesitated, then asked:

"Can I join the fight?"

Tatehan blinked, surprised.

"You want to come on the assault?" he said.

"Why not?" Riven said, shrugging. "I'm a decent fighter. And with the right protection equipment and weapons, I can hold my own."

Tatehan frowned.

"That's putting your life at serious risk," he said. "This isn't hunting monsters in the wastelands. This is a military operation. People are going to die."

Riven met his gaze, unflinching.

"I know," she said. "But if the Obscuron wins, we're all dead anyway. At least this way, I'm doing something about it."

Tatehan studied her for a long moment, then sighed.

"Alright," he said. "I'll make it happen. But you'll have to come to the briefing and training tomorrow. That's the last day before the mission begins."

Riven grinned.

"Deal," she said.

They took the Dust Rider to the location Riven had scouted.

Tatehan drove, the upgraded bike humming smoothly beneath them as they sped through the wastelands. Riven sat behind him, her arms wrapped around his waist for balance, the wind whipping past them.

The coordinates led them to a rocky canyon, a jagged scar cutting through the landscape, with steep walls rising on either side. The ground was littered with boulders and loose stone, and the air was thick with dust.

"It's been spotted around here," Riven said, dismounting as Tatehan brought the Dust Rider to a stop. "Territorial. It doesn't leave this area."

Tatehan scanned the canyon, his hand resting on the hilt of one of his chakrams.

"Then we find it," he said.

It didn't take long...

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