Red Dragon Spaceship Awakening: I Gain Alien Abilities on Mars-Chapter 212: A Visit to Torvan’s Workshop

It was almost evening now, the Martian sun beginning its slow descent toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the Red Crest Clan compound.

The air had cooled slightly, the oppressive heat of midday fading into something more bearable, and the base had taken on that quiet, transitional quality that came with the end of a workday. People were finishing up their tasks, heading to the hall for dinner, or retreating to their quarters to rest before the next day began.

Tatehan, however, was not done yet.

He had spent the afternoon watching the fighters train, visiting the nurse in the medical bay, and generally drifting through the base without any particular goal in mind. But now, as the day wound down and the sky began to shift from pale orange to deep purple, he found himself thinking about something he had been putting off for a while.

He needed to talk to Torvan.

Torvan was the head tech guy of the Red Crest Clan, the person responsible for coming up with new ideas for technological equipment and actually implementing them. He designed the battle vehicles the clan used, engineered the weapons they carried into combat, and maintained the complex systems that kept the base running smoothly. If something needed to be built, modified, or fixed, Torvan was the one who made it happen.

Tatehan was not entirely sure Torvan even had friends. The man was always in his workshop, working from dawn until well past midnight, hunched over some project or another, surrounded by tools and half-assembled machinery and the constant sound of fabrication equipment.

He rarely attended social gatherings, barely showed up for meals, and seemed to exist in a perpetual state of focused, obsessive work.

But that was exactly why Tatehan needed to talk to him now.

The workshop was located in one of the lower levels of the compound, tucked away in a corner where the noise and sparks and occasional small explosions would not disturb anyone else.

When he had gotten a tour of the base some time ago, he had been shown this.

Tatehan made his way down the hallways, navigating the familiar corridors until he reached the heavy metal door marked with a faded sign that read:

TORVAN’S WORKSHOP – KNOCK BEFORE ENTERING.

Tatehan knocked.

There was no response.

He knocked again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

Tatehan sighed, tried the door handle, and found it unlocked. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The workshop was exactly as chaotic as he had expected.

The space was large, filled with workbenches cluttered with tools, spare parts, half-finished prototypes, and diagrams scrawled on scraps of paper.

Shelves lined the walls, packed with components, circuit boards, metal plating, and containers of various chemicals and materials. In the far corner, a large fabrication unit hummed quietly, its display screen flickering with progress bars and technical readouts.

The air smelled like burnt metal, solder, and machine oil, and the faint sound of something being welded echoed from deeper in the room.

Tatehan stepped further inside, his eyes scanning the space until he spotted a figure bent over one of the workbenches near the back.

Torvan.

He was wearing a thick protective mask that covered most of his face, the kind designed to prevent sparks and debris from flying into his eyes while he worked. His hands moved with precision, holding a welding torch that sent bright white sparks cascading across the surface of whatever he was working on.

The glow from the torch illuminated his face in sharp, flickering bursts, casting shadows that made him look almost ghostly.

Torvan was seemingly in his mid-thirties, though it was hard to tell for certain.

He had a bit of weathered look that came from spending too much time indoors under harsh artificial lighting, his skin pale and his features sharp.

His hair was dark, cut short, with streaks of grey beginning to show at the temples. He wore a stained work shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms marked with old burn scars and faint traces of grease that seemingly looked like no amount of scrubbing ever seemed to fully remove.

His build was lean but not weak. He had this kind of wiry strength that came from years of hauling equipment and assembling machinery by hand.

He did not notice Tatehan at first, too focused on the gauntlet he was working on. The piece looked intricate, with segmented plating and exposed wiring running along the interior, connecting to what appeared to be a small energy cell embedded in the palm.

Tatehan cleared his throat. "Hey."

Torvan jerked slightly, his hand pulling the welding torch away from the gauntlet as he turned his head toward the door. He lifted the protective mask, revealing a pair of sharp, intelligent eyes that blinked in surprise when they landed on Tatehan.

"Oh," Torvan said, his voice rough and slightly hoarse, as if he had not spoken to anyone in hours. "Uh. Hi."

There was an awkward pause.

Torvan set the welding torch down on the bench, pushing the mask up onto his forehead and wiping his hands on a rag that looked like it had not been clean in weeks.

He glanced at Tatehan, then at the door, then back at Tatehan, clearly trying to process why the Battle Commander of the Red Crest Clan was standing in his workshop.

Even though everything in Waython hollow looked futuristic, this place didn’t look so much like a futuristic place with too much neon like things and Tech.

It was cool in a normal work way.

"I’m... surprised to see you," Torvan said finally, his tone uncertain. "We don’t really... I mean, we don’t talk much. So this is kind of..."

"Awkward?" Tatehan offered, grinning slightly.

"Yeah," Torvan admitted, a faint, sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "Awkward."

Tatehan could not really argue with that. He and Torvan were not close. In fact, he was not sure they had ever had a conversation that lasted longer than a few sentences.

The only time they had worked together was against the Mech Monster and that was because he had designed the weapon they used against the monster and he had to control it.

Normally, torvan was always working, and Tatehan was always off doing something else. Their paths rarely crossed, and when they did, it was usually just a brief nod of acknowledgment before they both moved on.

But that did not mean Tatehan could not come to him with a request.

"Well," Tatehan said, stepping further into the workshop, "I came here so you’d help me with something."

Torvan’s eyebrows rose slightly. "Something?"

"Yeah."

Tatehan did not say anything else. Instead, he took a breath, focused inward, and summoned his armor.

The transformation was instantaneous. Silver liquid like dusts erupted from... seemingly nowhere, spreading across his body in a cascading wave of precision.

It flowed over his chest, his arms, his legs, hardening into interlocking plates of sleek, futuristic design. The helmet materialized last, segments sliding into place around his head, the visor clicking shut with a faint hiss as the internal systems came online. The entire process took less than two seconds.

Tatehan stood there in full armor, the red glow of his visor casting a faint light across the dim workshop.

Torvan stared.

His eyes widened slightly, and he took a step back, his gaze sweeping over the armor with the kind of analytical intensity that only someone deeply familiar with technology could manage. Tatehan could practically see the gears turning in his head, cataloging the design, the materials, the way the plates moved and shifted with his body.

"Okay," Torvan said slowly, his voice tinged with genuine admiration. "That is... that is really impressive."

Tatehan grinned behind the helmet, though Torvan could not see it. "Thanks."

"So," Torvan said, still staring at the armor, "what do you need help with?"

Tatehan reached up and tapped the side of his helmet. "I want you to help me put headphones in this thing."

There was a beat of silence.

Torvan blinked. "Headphones."

"Yeah."

"Like... for music?"

"Exactly," Tatehan said. "So I can listen to music whenever I’m fighting."

Torvan stared at him for another long moment, and then, suddenly, he laughed. It was a short, incredulous sound.

"That is a crazy idea," Torvan said, shaking his head. "But... yeah. Yeah, I can make it work."

"Really?" Tatehan asked, genuinely surprised at how quickly Torvan had agreed.

"Sure," Torvan said, already moving back to his workbench and grabbing a few tools. "It’s not that complicated, actually. The helmet already has internal speakers for comms, right? I just need to reroute the audio input, add a dedicated channel for music playback, and maybe install a small interface on the exterior so you can control it without taking the helmet off."

He glanced back at Tatehan, his expression thoughtful. "You want it synced to your phone device, or do you want a standalone player built into the helmet?"

Tatehan thought about it for a moment. "Synced to my phone device. That way I can update the playlist without having to come back here every time."

"Smart," Torvan said, nodding. "Alright. Hand me the helmet."