Otaku Translation: Carrying the Bases of Starcraft C106

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Loot Bay was a place of renown on the continent of Odin. It boasted the most pleasant climate, the most enchanting beaches, and the most dazzling continental shelf formations—a leisure paradise that combined tourism, vacationing, and summer retreats all in one. To the west of Loot Bay lay an inland sea, surrounded by land to the north, south, and west, resembling the shape of an ancient kingdom’s coastline, albeit gentler.

Mond City rested along the northern shore of this inland sea, a picturesque coastal metropolis with a permanent population of five million. Compared to Krotan’s total population of eleven billion, Mond City was undeniably a densely populated hub. Unlike Rheinstadt, where wealth distribution leaned more toward elites, here there were far greater numbers of working-class citizens and impoverished laborers. After all, as the trade center for the eastern agricultural region, farmers and grain merchants made up the bulk of its market activity.

Forty-seven kilometers east of Mond City stood the Makanda Arsenal, nestled against the mineral-rich foothills of the Gant Mountains to the northwest. The facility relied heavily on the iron, aluminum, manganese, and silicon extracted from those mountains, as well as the abundant workforce provided by Mond City. This synergy had turned it into a compact but efficient military-industrial base specializing in metallurgy, steel forging, and power armor manufacturing.

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Fifty minutes later, the truck screeched to a halt along the southern shore of the inland sea. Tang Fang stepped out, his boots crunching softly onto the sand. He gazed across the endless expanse of water stretching northward, squinting slightly as he scanned the horizon.

The reason for stopping midway wasn’t merely to stretch his legs; Tang Fang needed to use the Overseer’s exceptional range of vision to confirm which faction controlled the missile destroyer fleet lurking somewhere out at sea. While Grant and his crew might be familiar faces, they weren’t exactly confidants. Showing them human units could be dismissed with some half-hearted excuse or another, but revealing Protoss or Zerg forces would invite complications far beyond what simple words could resolve. Better safe than sorry—he decided discretion was key.

After releasing the Overseer and waiting a moment, a vivid image of the battlefield materialized in Tang Fang’s mind. Through gaps between towering factory buildings and smoldering blast furnaces, flashes of fire illuminated the scene. Bullets rained down like sheets of hail, carving smoking craters into reinforced concrete surfaces. Shells fired from gunships offshore slammed into wastewater reservoirs, sending massive walls of water cascading skyward. Missiles detonated within the industrial complex, their explosions lighting up the night with blinding brilliance as shrapnel tore through steel beams and shattered masonry.

Smoke mingled with bursts of light, flames danced amidst destruction. Both sides were locked in a brutal stalemate. Defenders hunkered behind high walls and fortified towers, raining sniper rounds, heavy machine-gun fire, and artillery shells upon attackers who struggled to advance despite relentless naval bombardments pinning them outside the compound perimeter. Wrecked armored vehicles littered the battlefield—some overturned in piles of gravel, others leaning precariously against crumbling ruins, all spewing thick smoke and flickering flames. Bodies lay strewn across the ground, many partially buried under debris kicked up by explosions. Pools of viscous blood mingled with severed limbs scattered chaotically around, grim reminders of war’s merciless toll.

Yet even as each charge ended in failure, leaving behind scores of bloody corpses, the attackers remained unbowed. They regrouped time and again, launching wave after wave of assaults. Anti-tank missiles streaked through the air, striking their targets with devastating precision. Armor plating buckled, vehicles erupted in flames, and some were flipped entirely onto their roofs. Along nearly two kilometers of contested frontlines, defenders numbering just over fifteen hundred—a mere half-brigade—managed to hold back an entire armored division.

But Tang Fang’s astonishment wasn’t rooted in the ferocity of the battle itself. What truly stunned him was the identity of the combatants. From mismatched uniforms to an eclectic mix of weaponry, not to mention glaring tactical flaws, it was clear the attacking force consisted of poorly trained rabble. No doubt about it—they were Montgomery’s Northern Sunaru Alliance. As for the defenders? Naturally, they belonged to Krotan’s government army.

Hadn’t Grant claimed the Northern Sunaru Alliance already seized control of the arsenal? How had things devolved into this desperate standoff? And why were they so hellbent on breaking through the government lines, even with heavy naval firepower raining down on them? What prize hidden inside the facility warranted such reckless sacrifice?

Then there was the approaching column of reinforcements advancing steadily from the direction of Mond City, now less than 150 kilometers away. If Tang Fang’s instincts served him right, these troops likely hailed from Krotan’s First Legion—their elite armored division. Once the garrison at the arsenal linked up with this fresh wave of reinforcements, the encirclement of Montgomery’s forces would become inevitable. Given the ragtag nature of the uprising, defeat seemed almost certain.

From snippets of Grant’s conversation, it was evident he held Montgomery in high regard—as Marion’s trusted lieutenant, no less. So how could someone of his stature commit such a glaring blunder? What madness drove him to this suicidal course of action?

Grant’s convoy was now less than a hundred kilometers from the conflict zone. At this rate, he, Monroe, Joey, young Sam, and the rest would soon find themselves trapped in the jaws of the enemy’s pincer movement. What could be done? The battlefield at Makanda was nothing short of a death trap. Once the government forces completed their encirclement, the Northern Sunaru Alliance faced annihilation. The only hope of breaking the deadlock—and saving those reckless fools—rested squarely on Tang Fang’s shoulders.

For Grant’s sake, for young Sam’s, and perhaps selfishly for the elusive interstellar shuttle still tantalizingly out of reach, Tang Fang resolved to intervene.

To avoid detection, he recalled the Overseer and redirected his attention to the system interface. Without hesitation, he queued up twelve Reapers, five Marines, and one Marauder for production. Urban warfare favored mobility, making the Reapers ideal for close-quarters combat. Watching his resource count dwindle (22,505 minerals, 5,375 gas), Tang Fang took a deep breath before summoning all available Terran units. He then handed over repaired sets of “Marine Armor” and “Marauder Power Armor” to Arroz and Housen.

“Take these soldiers and go support Grant,” he instructed.

“Got it,” Housen grumbled, lumbering back toward the truck.

“No time for that.” Tang Fang’s voice rang out sharply behind him. Before Housen could protest further, a pair of slimy tendrils wrapped tightly around his waist, yanking him upward with alarming speed. Of course—it was that revolting Overlord again.

“Tang Fang… I hate you…” Housen’s voice trailed off wistfully as he ascended higher into the sky.

Arroz, ever the cooperative one, allowed the Overlord to secure its grip around him, gripping the tendrils firmly as he rose calmly aloft. Following suit were twelve Marines, twelve Marauders, and twelve Reapers, forming a formidable strike team.

“Don’t worry—I’ll let you down once we’re near our destination.”

With that, Tang Fang summoned yet another set of Marine Armor, donned it swiftly, and gave his C-14 Gauss rifle an affectionate pat. Turning his gaze toward the distant horizon where Loot Bay shimmered faintly, he formulated his next move.

The root cause of the rebels’ inability to breach the arsenal lay in the naval fleet stationed offshore. If he hoped to break this deadlock, sinking that destroyer squadron was paramount.

Summoning another Overlord, Tang Fang allowed its tentacles to coil around him once more. Alone, he set off toward the heart of the storm. Flying north for twenty minutes brought him dangerously close to the fleet’s radar range. Just as he prepared to recall the Overlord, he plummeted from a hundred meters above, landing with a splash in the calm embrace of the sea.

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