The Martians

ATHENA MANGAL-GRAH

Athena ducks, her body bending with the grace of a seasoned fighter, claws slicing through the air where her head had been a moment before. She attempts to close the distance, to strike back, but the K'tharr's long arms reach out, forcing her to leap back. She's irritated; all she can do is evade, and it's taking everything she has.

She sounded bold and brave when she told her father she'd wait for him, but the reality is far from simple, even for her. She'd endured the hellish and infamous 'Hundred Days in the Underworld' training, yet this is unlike any challenge she faced there.

Athena scrutinizes the three K'tharr in front of her. She's backed herself against the wall to prevent being surrounded, but now she's effectively trapped.

She's only managed to hold on because only one is actively attacking, while the others wait, watching. It's as if they're learning from her every move. She can see how their dark, malevolent eyes track her, adapting to her strategies. The K'tharr currently engaging her keeps shifting its attack pattern, forcing her to constantly adapt.

Its arms are absurdly long, tipped with claws that seem to stretch on forever, towering over her with an intimidating presence, matched only by its insane speed. Athena can't help but think that whoever designed these creatures did so with the explicit intent to counter beings like Martians or similar species.

What to do, what to do, she thinks frantically. She can't keep evading forever; unlike her, these creatures show no signs of fatigue. She thinks, seriously, this isn't even fair. She wonders if this is how her peers see her - as an impossible opponent.

Then it hits her; she doesn't need to hold on indefinitely, just until her father deals with the others. She can't see past the K'tharr surrounding her to gauge his progress, but with only three on her, he must be doing great. She can't let herself be the weak link.

With a sharp intake of breath, she plunged into the Crimson Nexus, her mind and body aligning in perfect harmony.

In this state, Athena transcends the mere physicality of battle, entering a realm where time seems to bend and flow around her, an ethereal dance of motion and thought. Every muscle in her body hums with a preternatural awareness, her senses heightening to the point where the air itself whispers its secrets to her.

The world slows, or perhaps it is she who accelerates, her perception of reality stretching into a tapestry where every thread of action and reaction is laid bare.

In the Crimson Nexus, Athena knows she could effortlessly dodge all three K'tharr if they attacked simultaneously. The issue is the immense physical and mental toll the state takes.

She's the first in fifty years to sustain the Nexus longer than thirty seconds, her record standing at one minute and forty-nine seconds.

The Crimson Nexus is a technique, one among others taught to cadets but forbidden to use due to its draining nature on both body and mind.

She hopes she can last long enough until her father can come to her aid.

Noticing the shift in her demeanor, the other two K'tharr join the assault, unleashing a storm of claws upon her. Yet, Athena dodges with a dancer's grace, each movement precise and minimal.

It's all she can do, no, it's all she needs to do. Every unnecessary movement would hasten her exhaustion, so she limits herself to evasion, buying more time within the Crimson Nexus.

But evading isn't the only thing she's doing...

...She's learning how the K'tharr learn. She watches them watch her, noting how they absorb, store, process, and adapt their strategy in what seems like an impossibly short time for any biological entity. But here she is, learning from their learning.

She knows this knowledge will make her even stronger. She laughs, a sound of both exhilaration and defiance, as she evades the relentless barrage of claws.

They ramp up their speed, refine their strategy, but Athena is learning from their very adaptation, staying one step ahead. She continues to laugh.

The K'tharr's claws miss her repeatedly, their hisses of frustration filling the air.

After a while, Athena begins to feel lightheaded, the exhaustion from maintaining the Crimson Nexus overwhelming her. As eager as she is to keep learning, she knows she must exit the state if she wants to conserve any energy.

She takes a gamble, forcing herself out of the Crimson Nexus, and collapses to the ground. Six claws descend upon her with lethal speed, but she's too weak to evade.

Yet, a smile spreads across her face as she mutters, "Just in time."

The claws are mere inches from tearing into her when suddenly, they stop, frozen in place by an unseen force.

Even though it wasn't directed at her, Athena could feel the immense, palpable bloodlust emanating from her father.

She watches as the K'tharr recoil, their grotesque faces contorting into expressions that could only be described as fear.

They turn towards the source of that overwhelming aura of violence.

Athena sees her father standing, or at least, someone who looks like him.

This isn't the doting father or the stern instructor she's accustomed to seeing.

It's his body, but something else wears his face—a visage transformed by battle.

His face is covered in blood, his clothes are tattered, revealing ugly wounds on his right forearm and left side. Blood drips from his hands, painting a picture of a man who has become one with the ferocity of war.

He scans the room, his gaze briefly lingering on Athena, confirming she's exhausted but unharmed.

His eyes then lock onto the K'tharr with a predatory intensity.

When he speaks, his voice is a growl, echoing like thunder, "Now then, come on, you bastards. Attack at once, let's end this quickly. I have somewhere to be."

The K'tharr hesitate, sharing uncertain glances among themselves.

Then, as if coming to an unspoken agreement, they attack. Unlike before, where they took turns, now all the K'tharr move in unison.

Athena couldn't blame them. It was the only way they stood a chance.