CHAPTER 60: THE HUNT BEGINS

Even though it was still morning, the sun was up in the sky, shining very brightly. It was scorching and felt like something that would burn someone’s skin.

If Tatehan wasn’t in the armor, he would have been burning from the heat by now. But in this armor, it almost felt like nothing, the armor seemed to compress the heat, keeping him cool despite the harsh Martian sun.

Taking a few steps forward, he checked the map overlay in his vision. The miniature display expanded when he focused on it, showing the glowing yellow marker that indicated the motorcycle graveyard. Still several hours away, by his calculation. Maybe three, maybe four, depending on the terrain.

He dismissed the map with a thought and kept walking. It proved very useful; without it, he wasn’t sure he would be certain of the place he was going to directly.

The landscape around him was barren, as Mars always was. Red dust stretched endlessly in every direction, broken only by scattered rock formations and the occasional boulder. The ground crunched beneath his armored boots with each step, a rhythmic sound that was almost meditative.

Tatehan’s mind wandered as he walked. He thought about Kael, about the promise he’d made. About a girl he’d never met who was dying, waiting for help that might never come.

No. Would come. He’d make sure of it.

He pushed the thoughts aside. Focus on the mission. One step at a time. Find the Shadow Goblins, kill one, get the core, find a motorcycle, reach the clan. Simple. Well, as simple as things got on Mars.

He needed to be fast. He just wasn’t doing the four-day trek.

The terrain began to change gradually as he walked. The flat expanse gave way to more rocky outcrops, formations of stone that jutted from the ground like the bones of some ancient giant. He moved through them carefully, his enhanced senses on alert.

Mars was never truly silent. Even now, he could hear the wind whistling through the rocks, carrying dust in small swirling patterns. Somewhere in the distance, something howled, a creature he couldn’t identify and didn’t particularly want to meet.

About an hour into his walk, Tatehan spotted movement to his left.

He froze, hand instinctively moving toward where his sword would materialize if he summoned it.

But it wasn’t a threat. Just a small creature, no bigger than a cat, scurrying between rocks. It had six legs and was covered in what looked like reddish scales. It paused when it saw him, its multiple eyes blinking in sequence, then darted away into a crevice.

Words appeared across his retina:

[Martian rodent]

[Will cause no harm]

Tatehan exhaled slowly. Not everything on Mars wanted to kill him, apparently. That was... oddly reassuring.

He continued walking.

Time passed in a strange way out here. With nothing but endless red landscape and the monotonous crunch of his boots, minutes felt like hours. But his internal clock, enhanced by his upgraded body, kept him aware. Three hours had passed since he left the spaceship.

The map indicated he was getting close now.

Tatehan slowed his pace, becoming more cautious. He scanned the ground as he walked and noticed something that made him stop completely.

Tracks.

They were small, pressed into the dust—definitely not human. Three-toed prints, maybe the size of a child’s hand, but the spacing suggested something that moved on all fours. Multiple sets of tracks, crisscrossing in different directions.

Shadow Goblins.

He was in their territory now.

Tatehan summoned his sword. It materialized in his hand, the blade gleaming even in the harsh Martian sunlight. He held it ready but not raised, prepared, but not aggressive.

Not yet. Not until he saw what that was.

He moved forward more slowly now, his eyes scanning constantly, looking for any sign of movement, any hint of an ambush.

The rocky terrain continued for another half hour before it began to slope downward. Seemed there was no monster (or monsters) after all.

Tatehan approached the edge of what looked like a ridge and carefully looked over.

His breath caught.

Below him was a valley, and scattered across its floor were motorcycles.

Four of them, to be exact. Each one was in various states of disrepair, rusted, damaged, some half-buried in the red sand. They looked like they’d been there for years, abandoned by their owners. Or taken from their dead bodies.

The bikes themselves were interesting. They weren’t like Earth motorcycles, these were clearly Martian-made, adapted for the harsh environment. Wider tires, reinforced frames, strange modifications he couldn’t immediately identify. But they were definitely motorcycles, and if he could get one working...

Tatehan studied the valley carefully. The four bikes were spread out across the area, maybe fifty meters between each one. The valley itself was relatively open, with some scattered rocks and debris providing minimal cover.

No movement. No sound except the wind.

But the Shadow Goblins were here. He could feel it. The tracks he’d seen earlier confirmed it, and his instincts, honed by weeks of surviving on Mars, were screaming at him to be careful.

He was very certain some monster was lurking somewhere.

He scanned the edges of the valley, the rock formations, anywhere something small and fast could hide. Nothing. Either they were very good at staying hidden, or they were waiting for him to come down.

Probably both.

Tatehan checked his armor status mentally. Kinetic Absorption was ready. His Partial Regeneration was working passively, keeping him in peak condition. Gravity Manipulation was available, though using it extensively would tire him out.

He was as ready as he’d ever be.

Taking a breath, Tatehan began to descend into the valley. He moved carefully, keeping his sword ready, his eyes constantly scanning. Each step was cautious and calculated.

The sand shifted slightly under his boots as he made his way down the slope.

He was about halfway down when he heard it.

A chittering sound.

It was faint at first, like insects clicking their mandibles together, but deeper...

The sound came from multiple directions, echoing off the rocks in a way that made it impossible to pinpoint the exact source.

Tatehan froze, his grip tightening on his sword.

Then his system flared to life, words flashing across his vision in urgent red:

[WARNING: Multiple hostiles detected]

[Threat level: MODERATE]

[Recommendation: Proceed with extreme caution]

The chittering grew louder.

Tatehan’s jaw clenched behind his helmet. His hand shifted on the sword hilt, adjusting his grip to a combat stance.