Otaku Translation: Carrying the Bases of Starcraft C78

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"Have these soldiers rebelled?" Arroz's mind buzzed with the sudden realization, his anger flaring up uncontrollably. He shouted a warning to Tang Fang while simultaneously pushing off the ground with all his might. Like a jungle panther leaping high into the air, he pounced on the marauder who had turned against his master.

This series of actions was as swift and unpredictable as a rabbit darting from its burrow or a falcon swooping down on its prey, taking no more than a second or two from start to finish.

But what did it matter? It was all instinctive reaction. The grenade had already been fired. With the defensive capabilities of the Empire’s "Guardian Knight" powered armor, it could withstand regular bullets, but against the marauder’s "Judicator" grenade? It might as well have been made of paper.

Why would the marauders rebel? Tang Fang had said that these bio-soldiers had no emotions, no personal desires, and only followed orders. So why were they attacking their own master? What was going on?

Housen stood frozen in place, watching helplessly as the "Judicator" grenade trailed a silver streak of light, hurtling straight towards the figure at the end of the staircase.

The grenade exploded with a deafening roar, sending shockwaves blasting outwards and hurling Tang Fang through the air.

Arroz looked up just in time to see this unfold. As he prepared to turn his gun on the rebel beneath him and send him straight to hell, a loud explosion rang out. A spray of blood erupted from Tang Fang’s left shoulder, and his steel shoulder plate was blown several meters into the air.

"What’s going on?" Arroz was stunned. The grenade had detonated at Tang Fang’s feet, so why was his shoulder injured?

A chill ran down his spine as a possibility dawned on him. His eyes scanned the surroundings, and he noticed wisps of smoke rising from a corner of a circular platform about 15 meters above.

"So that’s how it is. There’s an ambush."

It turned out that the marauder wasn’t rebelling; instead, Tang Fang had used him to evade the attack.

"Second floor, left side, there’s a sniper."

Arroz’s warning came through the communicator. Housen’s mind was momentarily overwhelmed, but that didn’t stop him from responding. After spending so much time together, he had developed the habit of not overthinking things. In critical moments, whatever Tang Fang said, he did—no questions asked.

Now that Tang Fang was injured, it was natural to follow Arroz’s lead. This old guy might often wear an insufferable expression that made him want to punch him, but objectively speaking, his ability to assess battle situations and handle crises far exceeded his own.

Boom, boom… Grenades continued to explode on the second floor, filling the air with smoke and flashes of light that confused the sniper’s line of sight.

Seizing the opportunity, Arroz rolled to the edge of the stairs, pushed off with his foot, and leaped into the air, catching the floating Tang Fang in his arms. He quickly turned around, using his back as a shield against the sniper.

Tang Fang’s injuries were severe. The sniper had used "Thor's Wrath," a 27mm caliber sniper round comparable to a large machine cannon, nearly blowing off his entire shoulder. Thankfully, the "Guardian Knight" powered armor had absorbed some of the impact.

With his helmet obscuring his face, it was impossible to see Tang Fang’s expression, but it was likely that he had passed out. If he hadn’t cleverly directed the marauder to fire a grenade at his feet, using the blast wave to propel himself into the air, the "Guardian Knight's" mobility wouldn’t have been enough to dodge the sniper’s shot. A headshot would have been his only fate.

As long as his skull hadn’t been blown apart, there was no need to worry about Tang Fang’s life. Left undisturbed for ten to twenty minutes, his body’s rapid regeneration mechanism would kick in, and his wounds would heal quickly. Of course, if the Queen were here, a spray of her regenerative saliva would speed up the process several times. However, after Tang Fang lost consciousness, those mysterious combat units seemed to malfunction, all falling into a state of confusion and awaiting orders.

With Tang Fang unconscious and the three factions' combat units on strike, it was now up to him and Housen.

After placing Tang Fang behind a piece of cover, Arroz shifted his attention to the circular platform on the second floor. In his haste earlier, he had only told Housen that the sniper was on the left side of the second floor without specifying the exact location. That guy had blindly fired a barrage of grenades, practically cleaning out the entire second floor.

The smoke had yet to clear, so it was unclear whether the sniper was dead or alive. However, based on years of combat experience, Arroz knew that this was a seasoned veteran.

Exceptional patience, correct judgment, and proficient sniping skills—only the elite snipers of special forces from various countries possessed such abilities. Housen’s blind firing might disrupt the opponent’s vision, but expecting a single shot to take him out was unrealistic.

Once again, Arroz’s assessment proved accurate. Accompanied by the sharp whistling of bullets cutting through the air, Housen, exposed in the sniper’s line of sight, was met with a devastating blow. A high-explosive sniper round, akin to a mini-cannon shell, exploded right above his head. The powerful kinetic energy and explosive force left a deep dent in the helmet of his "marauder" powered armor, propelling his bulky frame to roll several meters before finally coming to a stop.

"Damn good marksmanship." Housen stared at the damage control system’s UI interface showing the armor’s damage readings, inwardly marveling. Luckily, he was wearing a "marauder." If it had been Arroz’s "marine armor," he’d probably be meeting Charon, the ferryman of the underworld, by now.

While Housen was filled with awe, little did he know that the hidden sniper was equally shocked. The combination of "Thor's Wrath" and high-explosive sniper rounds had the power to rival a 30mm anti-tank armor-piercing shell. Most light armored vehicles struck by this would inevitably suffer punctured armor. Yet this guy took a direct hit to the head, and all that happened was a bump. After rolling a few times, he was fine.

Was he really wearing powered armor and not some humanoid tank or combat robot? The sniper suddenly felt incredibly frustrated.

Even the strongest tiger can’t crack a turtle hiding in its shell.

"Damn it! You coward, throwing stones from the bushes—what kind of man are you?" Housen, enraged, got up and yelled. Following the coordinates provided by the ballistic analysis program, he raised his arm and unleashed a barrage of fire.

A brute’s logic was simple: real men fought face-to-face. Hiding and taking sneaky shots—that was behavior unworthy of a warrior.

In his past experiences, Housen had repeatedly proven himself to be a bumbling fool, and this time was no exception.

The ballistic analysis program gave him coordinates but didn’t account for potential obstacles along the trajectory. The Judicator grenades collided head-on with a mechanical arm outside the runic crystal sphere, blowing a mess of electrical components to bits.

Electric sparks surged as the laser frequency adjustment device in the middle of the mechanical arm suffered severe damage. The previously stable pulse laser suddenly became as wild as a bucking horse, its rapidly changing spectrum causing violent fluctuations in the laser beams. These beams, focused through the Element Zero crystal prism onto the rune-covered crystal ball, radiated waves of fluctuating energy.

The energy scanner readings climbed steadily, and the ball shimmered with flowing light, pulsating outward like a heartbeat, emitting streams of runes.

"Housen, what the hell have you done?" Arroz’s furious voice came through the communicator.

"I…" Before Housen could explain, the stimulated and highly unstable runic light sphere trembled violently. The optical threads connecting it to the energy crystal snapped, and the runic light sphere, flashing with multicolored lights, plummeted from the sky, landing on the central platform of the -1 floor. It erupted into a dazzling silver flash, unleashing a shockwave like a towering wave crashing against a cliff, rising explosively from the central void on the first floor.

Francis stared blankly at the scene, his pale face filled with bewilderment. From Tang Fang’s contact with psionic flame, to the marauder’s "rebellion," to Housen’s retaliation accidentally damaging the mechanical arm and causing the runic sphere to fall and explode—it all unfolded like a movie plot, breathtaking and overwhelming.

The will to survive was human instinct. The appearance of the sniper gave Francis a glimmer of hope. After Tang Fang fell unconscious, the alien creatures entered a state of confusion and standby, indicating that if he could eliminate these two guards, the situation would take a dramatic turn. He would be saved, and the mission would be completed. As the saying goes, "A narrow escape brings great fortune."

In his view, Tang Fang’s entire left shoulder had been nearly blown apart. Even if vital areas weren’t hit, blood loss alone would be enough to kill him. And even if he somehow survived, he would surely lose the ability to resist.

A captive capable of commanding alien creatures and manipulating psionic flames held research value surpassing even Epsilon technology.

This was truly a gift from the heavens. With this achievement, a promotion to general was almost guaranteed, his family’s status would soar, and he would gain the favor of the prince and even the emperor himself.

At this moment, he felt immense gratitude toward Clam Doug, the man who ignored rank and always wore a sour expression. Who would have thought that this unassuming individual was actually an exceptional sniper?

As the leader of the twelve researchers, Francis had always assumed Clam was a scientist. When their superiors assigned them to the base, there was no detailed introduction. Clam’s identity file simply stated, "Rank: major," with everything else left blank.

Additionally, Clam had one striking characteristic—he had no sense of hierarchy. Whether meeting Francis, Edward, or Hu Qing, he neither saluted nor exchanged pleasantries, always wearing the same sour expression, like moldy caviar.

Though Francis disliked this man, he was a specialist sent by the fleet command. As the saying goes, "Respect the Buddha if not the monk." For the sake of the lieutenant general, he had no choice but to endure.

While the twelve researchers had been busy operating the spectral analysis converter and deciphering Epsilon script, Clam Doug had suddenly disappeared. Francis had assumed the guy had sneaked off to slack off and planned to report him to their superiors later to vent his frustration. Little did he know that Clam had returned to his old trade, finding a concealed spot to lie in wait.

Who would have thought that this man was a seasoned sniper? Thinking of "Tang Yan" and then of Clam, it truly was a case of hell brought by one man and heaven by another.

Just as Francis reveled in his newfound hope, feeling as though his suffering was finally over, the divine father he revered kicked him right back down to hell.

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