Otaku Translation: Carrying the Bases of Starcraft C76

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Blood streamed down Francis' immaculate military uniform, staining it in crimson rivers. His face was contorted in agony, beads of sweat as large as soybeans dripping from his temples onto the smooth, alien floor below. His arms had been impaled by the razor-sharp claws of a zergling, and blood gushed out like a broken fountain. Tremors wracked his body, each spasm amplifying his pain. The once-pristine uniform now resembled nothing more than a janitor’s rag, soaked and useless.

"Run! Quick!" someone shouted, breaking the stunned silence. Nearby researchers snapped into action, their movements frantic, like startled rabbits fleeing a predator. They bolted toward the rune-etched gate, desperate to escape.

The base had fallen. The enemy had arrived. Even Francis, their commanding officer, was now a prisoner. These men weren’t soldiers; they were scientists—bookish, untrained civilians with no means to defend themselves. What choice did they have but to run? To stay would mean certain death.

A chaotic stampede erupted as the group surged toward the exit. Amid the chaos, two quick-thinking individuals slipped data-storing PDAs into their pockets.

Man dies for wealth, bird perishes for food.

No matter how advanced society became, no matter how far science progressed, human greed remained an indelible curse, etched into the marrow of humanity's bones, impossible to eradicate.

They thought Tang Fang was too focused on Francis to notice their actions. But they underestimated him. Shared unit vision granted him sight far beyond that of ordinary men.

Two zerglings lunged forward like wolves among sheep, their powerful hind legs propelling them through the air. In a flash, they tackled the two cunning researchers to the ground, their claws piercing through flesh without mercy. Blood gushed from their wounds and mouths, vivid and shocking, mirroring the complex emotions—regret, fear, disbelief—that lingered in their dying eyes.

The others ran faster, fueled by terror. Some stumbled, only to scramble back up and keep going. One by one, more researchers escaped the ruins. All except for the two who had succumbed to greed. The rest made it out alive.

Though Tang Fang was known for his decisiveness in dealing with enemies, he was no mindless butcher. These people posed no threat—they were non-combatants. As long as they didn’t push their luck, he saw no reason to deny them a chance at survival.

“Who… who are you?” Francis finally managed to gasp out, his voice trembling.

Death didn’t frighten him. He had chosen this path, knowing full well the risks it entailed. But there was one thing gnawing at him—a question that refused to be silenced. Who was this man? What grudge did he hold against the Empire—or specifically, the 3789th Division?

“That’s what Hu Qing asked me,” Tang Fang said calmly, stepping closer to Francis.

“Hu Qing? Where is he now?”

“The road to the afterlife. Perhaps he’s waiting for you.”

A bitter smile twisted Francis’ lips. “I admit defeat. I lost—to you, utterly and completely. Now, all I want to know is your identity. Is that too much to ask?”

Tang Fang shook his head. “This isn’t a game between us. There’s no such thing as winning or losing. This is simply my path of vengeance.”

“Vengeance?”

“Yes.”

With that, the visor on Tang Fang’s powered armor helmet retracted, revealing a young face beneath.

Francis stared intently, his eyes narrowing as realization dawned upon him. A look of astonishment spread across his features like sunlight breaking over a field of sunflowers. “You… it’s you? You’re still alive?”

Memories flooded back. This was the very man Wei Dongfang had once asked him to eliminate—the one named “Tang Yan.”

“He should’ve died during that reconnaissance mission. Why… why did he survive? And how does he command these monstrous creatures?”

Francis’ already pale face turned ashen. Regret crept into his heart. If only he hadn’t agreed to Wei Dongfang’s request, perhaps things wouldn’t have spiraled to this point.

But it was too late. Reality offered no save points or second chances. In his eyes, Tang Yan had been nothing more than a disposable pawn—a lowly soldier with no connections, no power, someone easily crushed underfoot. Yet here he stood, a seemingly fragile butterfly whose wings had unleashed a tsunami, shattering the ironclad defenses of the 3789th Division.

Francis had lived a life devoid of regret. Like the countless times he’d ordered subordinates to terminate pregnancies resulting from his indiscretions, he had never questioned his decisions. But today, for the first time—and likely the last—he felt remorse. A single misstep had caused the collapse of an entire dam. As a military leader, he had acted like a politician, selling out his own men for personal gain. And now? Now he faced the ultimate humiliation—a catastrophic defeat brought about by a mere pawn, squandering the Empire’s promising position on Planet Namie.

“Kill me!” Francis screamed, his face twisted in anguish. “What are you waiting for? Kill me!”

A cold smirk tugged at the corner of Tang Fang’s lips. “Esteemed Commander, are you ordering me around? My apologies, but I despise being spoken to in such a tone. Right now, in my eyes, you’re nothing more than a prisoner.”

Francis struggled to sit up, his movements feeble. “You think I’ll beg for mercy? Don’t waste your breath.”

Tang Fang shrugged, his expression indifferent. “One day, I’ll make sure Colcrav Stuart knows what it feels like to be trampled beneath someone’s feet. As for wanting to see you grovel? Sorry, you’re not worth the effort. The reason I haven’t killed you yet is twofold. First, I’m curious—what drove a high-ranking officer like yourself to persecute a mere frontline soldier like me? Second, I don’t take orders from anyone—not even you. If you want to die, you’ll have to wait until I’m in a better mood.”

“You’re part of the Garcia Resistance?” Francis blurted, his mind racing at the mention of overthrowing Emperor Colcrav I.

Tang Fang smiled faintly but offered no reply.

The Garcia Resistance referred to a rebel force originating from the Garcia star system. Twenty years ago, shortly after Colcrav I ascended the throne, the mining planet Tambor within the Garcia system erupted in armed rebellion. Comprised of miners, prisoners, captives, and refugees, the revolutionaries seized a key military stronghold and ignited a firestorm that engulfed the entire star system.

More and more oppressed workers, suffering civilians, and disillusioned soldiers joined their ranks, escalating the conflict. The flames of rebellion threatened to spread beyond the Garcia system into other Imperial territories.

Colcrav Stuart’s first act as ruler was to assemble a coalition of nobles and regional lords, forming a suppression fleet to crush the uprising. The ensuing battle claimed over a million lives, ending in victory for the Imperial forces.

Though the Garcia Revolution was quashed, twelve key leaders of the resistance managed to escape before Tambor fell. They scattered, regrouping in secret across different regions.

During the campaign, interrogations revealed that the rebellion had been meticulously planned, organized, and backed by a shadowy benefactor—the Empire’s sworn enemy, the Charles Federation.

It made sense. With Colcrav I newly crowned and his rule unstable, the Charles Federation’s involvement was entirely logical. Without their support, the ragtag band of miners and prisoners would never have stood a chance against the might of the Empire, let alone captured an entire star system.

After the war, the military assumed peace would follow. But the twelve fugitive leaders resurfaced, stirring unrest wherever they went, igniting wave after wave of insurgencies.

These twelve proved remarkably elusive, always slipping away before Imperial forces could close in. While Colcrav I’s regime grew stronger, making large-scale revolts like the Garcia Revolution increasingly unlikely, smaller rebellions continued to flare up across the Empire’s territories. Much like a woman’s menstrual cycle, they were relentless, occasionally delayed but never absent. Thus, the term “monthly rebellion” entered common parlance.

Each leader operated independently, leading separate factions with distinct names. For convenience, however, the military collectively referred to them as the “Garcia Resistance.”

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