Otaku Translation: Carrying the Bases of Starcraft C108

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After Montgomery had dispatched Grant and the others to intercept the military supply convoy, new intelligence filtered through headquarters. Radar data confirmed that the garrison stationed at Mond City was mobilizing north toward the Gant Mountains. Rumors swirled of a massive uprising in the resource-rich mining region. The rebel miners, emboldened by their cause, were preparing to push southwest with plans to seize an airbase on the Diromos Plateau.

"Unite all who can be united." This rallying cry, coined by Marion, had become the insurgents' guiding strategy.

The rebels knew the miners couldn’t stand against the trained soldiers of Mond City alone. After much deliberation, Montgomery concluded it was imperative to rescue them—not only to bolster the ranks of the Northern Sunaru Alliance but also because taking the airbase on the Diromos Plateau would deal a double blow to the enemy.

A battalion—roughly 500 men—was sent to guide the miners away from the advancing forces. With Mond City’s defenses weakened by this northern deployment, it presented an ideal opportunity for the Alliance to strike elsewhere. Following hours of strategic debate, Montgomery devised a plan straight out of ancient warfare manuals: a diversionary tactic designed to mislead while striking where least expected.

Of the roughly 15,000 troops stationed at Makanda’s industrial complex, Montgomery divided his forces into three groups.

The first group—3,000 strong—was ordered northeast toward a government-controlled airstrip located 100 kilometers beyond the Dara Salt Flats, a key hub used to stockpile grain awaiting transport.

The second group consisted of 1,800 elite soldiers mounted in high-speed armored vehicles. Their mission was to bypass Mond City entirely, looping around to harass the supply lines of the First Legion from behind. By creating chaos and confusion, they aimed to give the impression of cutting off reinforcements.

But these two maneuvers were merely diversions. The true hammer blow came from the main force of 10,000 troops marching directly westward from Makanda toward Mond City itself.

Makanda lay just 47 kilometers from Mond City. Rather than relocating the command center, Montgomery remained behind with a skeleton crew of 300 defenders, confident that speed and surprise would secure victory before any counterattack could materialize.

The assault on Mond City went off without a hitch. Within three hours, the two understrength battalions left to defend the city raised white flags and surrendered. Simultaneously, news arrived from the north: the operation against the grain depot had been equally successful.

Cheers erupted among Montgomery’s staff. Losing Mond City meant the First Legion had lost its foothold in the east—a crippling blow to the regime. Moreover, capturing the city gave the Northern Sunaru Alliance a springboard to expand its influence in three directions: west, north, and south. It brought them closer to linking up with the Southern Sunaru Alliance operating along the Sunaru River, effectively placing most of Odin’s eastern coastline under insurgent control. The First Legion would be forced to retreat deep into the western interior.

And there was another boon: the fall of Mond City would inspire countless farmers, laborers, and disaffected citizens to flock to the rebellion’s banner. Every day spent holding the city would swell the ranks of the resistance.

Montgomery’s plan seemed flawless—strategically sound, tactically aggressive. But what happened next caught him completely off guard.

A crack unit of government troops appeared seemingly out of nowhere, surrounding the command post at Makanda. With overwhelming firepower, they launched a ferocious assault. The 300 defenders holed up inside the compound could do little more than hunker down and pray for reinforcements. Meanwhile, the once-dormant Second Fleet of the South Sea—taking advantage of the stalemate between the navies in the North Sea—slipped past territories held by the Southern Sunaru Alliance and steamed north, aiming straight for Loot Bay like a dagger thrust into the heart of the Alliance.

Montgomery froze. As reports poured in about enemy movements, he realized the horrifying truth: he’d walked right into a trap. The so-called uprising on the Diromos Plateau had been bait. Mond City had been the lure. And now, with the Alliance stretched thin, the government forces were poised to strike back with devastating precision.

The 408th Armored Division supposedly rushing northwest to support operations might well turn tail and instead link up with the 508th Armored Division stationed deep in the western interior. Together, they’d squeeze the Alliance from three sides: northwest, southwest, and east. Even if the rebels managed to hole up in Mond City, prolonged siege would sap morale and doom their cause.

Faced with this grim reality, Montgomery made the hardest decision of his life. He radioed the front lines, informing them of the attack on Makanda, and ordered the troops occupying Mond City to abandon their objectives and retreat south to regroup with the Southern Sunaru Alliance.

It was a desperate move—an act of self-sacrifice for the greater good. But his subordinates refused to comply.

At barely 50 kilometers away, Makanda was within striking distance. A forced march could bring relief within half an hour.

Led by Stivie and Shunette, the senior leadership of the Northern Sunaru Alliance decided to pivot west, relieve Montgomery, then swing north to rendezvous with the unit attacking the grain depot. From there, they’d hug the coastline and retreat northeast, seeking refuge under the protective wings of the First and Second Fleets patrolling the northern seas.

What they didn’t anticipate, however, was the sheer tenacity of the 1,500-strong government detachment besieging the command post. Backed by missile destroyers anchored in Loot Bay, the enemy repelled wave after wave of armored assaults.

To make matters worse, electronic jamming severed communications with the command post. If Montgomery fell, the logical course of action would be immediate withdrawal—but until confirmation came, no one wanted to abandon their comrades to certain death.

Withdraw and leave the commander to die? Impossible. Press the attack knowing full well it was a delaying tactic meant to buy time for reinforcements? Suicide.

Caught between Scylla and Charybdis, the Alliance ground its teeth in frustration.

Grant listened to the briefing, his expression darkening. He’d thought their ordeal was isolated; he hadn’t imagined the command post was enduring its own nightmare.

“What do we do now?” he asked.

Stivie opened his mouth to reply when a conscript carrying a blood-soaked soldier stumbled past.

“Wait,” Stivie called, stepping forward. Ignoring the filth, he wiped the man’s face clean with his sleeve and gently closed his still-furious eyes. “Rest now.”

Behind him, a stretcher passed by. The wounded soldier lying on it had a gaping hole blown through his abdomen. Blood seeped steadily onto the steel floor below, drop by crimson drop. His body trembled uncontrollably, his face ghost-white. Faint whispers—half-delirium, half-moan—drifted into the air.

Sadness flickered in Stivie’s eyes. He signaled for the medics to pause, peeled off his shirt, and draped it over the soldier’s shivering form. Then, with a wave, he motioned them onward.

He said nothing, merely turned to gaze at the distant flashes of explosions lighting up the horizon. His broad back bore scars of every kind: long slashes from blades, burns from electrical shocks, and round puckers where bullets had torn through flesh.

Grant tightened his grip on his rifle, staring at the ravaged battlefield ahead. “Major… maybe I should take a squad and try breaking through.”

Stivie glanced over Grant’s shoulder at Joey, Monroe, young Sam, and the others. Slowly, he shook his head. “These aren’t ordinary enemies. They’re elite troops armed to the teeth—machine guns, snipers everywhere. Add in the high ground and naval artillery support. Sending you lot in would be suicide.”

“They’re still kids…” Grant muttered, clenching his fists tightly.

Behind him, little Sam tugged at his sleeve. “Talosal—they said they’d help us. Maybe… maybe they can…”

Stivie spun around, fixing Sam with a glare. “Who’s Talosal?”

“They… they…” Sam stammered, shrinking back. Stivie loomed large, his dark skin smeared with blood, looking every bit the avenging demon.

“They were just talking nonsense,” Monroe cut in, shaking his head with a bitter smile. “Don’t listen to him, Sam.”

“Sam, don’t be naive,” Walton chimed in, ruffling the boy’s hair. “If they really intended to help, why did they bail halfway? This is our fight, not theirs.”

“But… but…” Sam struggled to argue. Housen’s words in the bar echoed in his mind, along with Tang Fang’s enigmatic smile. Deep down, he couldn’t believe they were liars.

“That’s right, Sam. You need to grow up. Blind trust gets people killed.” Joey added softly. “They’re outsiders. They don’t know what we Krotans have endured. They’ll never understand our hatred for this rotten empire or why we keep fighting.”

“As long as we draw breath, we’ll resist this corrupt, hopeless dynasty. That’s our vow—and the courage that keeps us alive.”

Sam fell silent, his gaze drifting to the clear southern sky. In the distance, the sun dipped low, painting the horizon a bloody red.

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