John took a deep breath as he stood at the edge of the rocky path, preparing to explore further down the mountain. His bubble of water-oxygen floated around his head, keeping him alive in the thin Martian air.
Just as he was about to take his first step forward, he froze.
A sound.
At first, it was faint — almost like a whisper carried by the dry Martian breeze. John stiffened and turned sharply toward the direction of the sound, which came from somewhere to the right, near the rocky slopes.
He frowned, his heart beating a little faster.
"Is it the wind?" he wondered.
Or maybe… he was just hallucinating. After all, Mars was supposed to be a dead world, barren and lifeless.
John narrowed his eyes and kept staring into the distance, refusing to brush it off so easily.
The sound came again, a little louder this time — a low, guttural rumble, like a deep animal call. It didn't sound like wind at all.
Five long minutes passed.
John stayed perfectly still, every sense sharpened. He could hear his own breathing, the soft crackle of dust shifting under his boots — and then, finally, he saw it.
At first, it was just a black shape moving against the rusty orange landscape. But as it came closer, John's eyes widened, and a cold shock ran through his body.
"What the hell..." he whispered.
What appeared in front of him was like nothing he had ever seen — not in any book, movie, or scientific report.
It was a creature.
A massive creature — at least twice the size of a normal horse on Earth. Its body was thick, muscular, and covered in dark black skin that shimmered faintly under the dim Martian sunlight, almost like polished stone. Each of its powerful legs ended in broad, heavy hooves that crushed the loose rocks beneath it with every step.
Its head was a strange mix between a horse and a camel — long and slightly curved, with thick lips and wide nostrils that flared, breathing out small puffs of dust. A single, sharp horn rose proudly from its forehead, twisted slightly like a natural spear.
But what caught John's attention the most were its ears — or rather, what should have been ears.
Instead of normal ears, the creature had two thick tentacles sprouting from the sides of its head, curling and moving slowly, as if sensing the air around it.
Behind the creature swayed three long tails, each ending in a fan-like shape that flicked and twitched with a life of its own.
Its dark eyes — deep, intelligent, and filled with something John couldn't immediately understand — locked onto him.
For a few seconds, neither of them moved.
John stared at the creature in amazement, feeling like he was staring at a piece of living legend.
"Earth scientists said Mars was dead... No life... Only dust and rocks..." John thought, his mind racing.
"Well, someone needs to go back to school, because this thing is very much alive!"
Slowly, John lifted his hand and spoke, keeping his voice calm.
"Are you from Mars? But first..." he hesitated, "Can you understand me?"
The creature had remained still up until that moment. But as soon as John's voice echoed across the barren land, something changed.
John staggered slightly, grabbing his head as a strange, alien voice suddenly rang inside his mind — not words exactly, but raw emotions: confusion, anger, fear.
The creature's tentacles snapped upright, and with a wild, almost panicked roar, it charged forward.
Dust exploded from the ground as its hooves pounded the rocky surface.
John watched it come, feeling the ground shake under its weight. Yet, strangely, he felt no fear. Instead, a rush of excitement filled his chest.
He chuckled quietly and muttered, "I guess not."
John's heart raced, not with terror, but with pure thrill. How could he have expected Mars — the Mars of the Marvel universe — to be simple or lifeless?
John stood his ground.
He didn't flinch. He didn't run. He simply watched as the creature, a mass of black muscle and raw power, thundered toward him like a living storm. Dust billowed behind it, carried by the thin Martian breeze. Rocks cracked and jumped under its hooves.
But John remained still, calm as a stone.
The moment the creature was just a breath away from colliding with him, John finally moved.
He raised his hand.
A sudden force, invisible but strong like a mountain, burst out from his palm. It slammed into the charging beast, stopping it dead in its tracks just inches away. The ground cracked under the pressure, and the creature's hooves skidded, kicking up a cloud of red dust.
The beast roared in rage, shaking its head violently, but John didn't give it a chance to break free.
Swiftly, his other hand shot forward and grabbed the creature's sharp, twisted horn.
His fingers locked around it like a vice.
The creature struggled fiercely. It jerked its massive head back and forth, trying to throw John off. Its tentacles lashed wildly in the air. Its tails whipped behind it, making sharp cracking sounds.
But no matter how hard it fought, it could not break free from John's grasp.
It was like being chained to a mountain.
John tightened his grip and stared into the creature's wild, intelligent eyes. He could see the stubbornness, the unwillingness to submit. It wasn't just a beast — it had pride, a strong spirit that refused to bow.
John smirked a little. "You're strong," he murmured. "But stubbornness alone won't save you."
As he spoke, a memory flickered in his mind — a particular rune he had learned during his journeys to other worlds. It wasn't a spell for attack or defense. It was a darkness-type rune, rare and powerful, meant for one thing: summoning beasts and forming contracts with them.
John took a deep breath.
Then, with his free hand, he activated the rune.
A dark glow appeared above his palm, growing brighter and more defined.
The rune floated, spinning slowly in the thin air. It was round in shape, with three smaller circles drawn inside it, all connected by intricate lines. Strange markings filled the circles — ancient, complex symbols whose meanings John didn't even fully understand.
But he didn't need to.
He knew what the rune was meant to do.
John brought the glowing rune close to the creature's forehead.
The creature tried to pull away, sensing something strange, but John's grip on the horn was absolute.
He pressed the rune against the creature's forehead.
The reaction was immediate.
The dark rune pulsed once — a deep, heavy thump like a heartbeat — and then two of the three small circles melted into the creature's head, sinking inside like drops of water into dry ground.
The creature shuddered violently, letting out a low, rumbling sound, a mix between a groan and a growl.
At the same time, the last remaining circle floated toward John.
Before he could react, it shot forward and sank into his own forehead.
John staggered slightly as he felt a strange warmth flood through him. It wasn't painful — just... unfamiliar. Like a bond was being formed, a bridge connecting two different beings across the vastness of existence.
The creature lowered its head slowly, the wildness in its eyes fading.
It wasn't fear.
It was acceptance.