Otaku Translation: Carrying the Bases of Starcraft C160

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Chapter 160: The Encounter at Hight Mountains (Part 3)

"Helicopter units, armored motorcycle squadrons—send them south to scout! Who’s responsible for this? WHO?!" Colonel Hercules Lewis's voice thundered through the comms, rattling the eardrums of every soldier in the vanguard.

Ryosuke Morimoto didn’t dare delay. He immediately dispatched 25 gunships to sweep southward, followed by an 80-strong reconnaissance team mounted on armed motorcycles that flanked both sides, pushing southwest behind the helicopters.

"Commander, it’s… it’s five artillery pieces… no, wait, not artillery—tanks!" Within minutes, the radar operator aboard the early-warning helicopter stuttered his report over the communicator.

"Artillery or tanks? Which is it?!" Hercules slammed his fist onto the table. "Sergeant, straighten your tongue and speak clearly!"

"Tanks, sir! Tanks that can transform into siege mode!"

"Transforming tanks? Are you certain?" Hercules's eyes widened. Such multi-mode tanks were experimental prototypes still far from practical deployment. Even optimistic projections placed their development decades away.

Convinced he’d misheard—or that his subordinates were mocking him—Hercules barked, "Sergeant, answer me, damn it!"

The communicator buzzed with static. Fury boiled within the colonel, turning him into a ticking time bomb ready to explode. A mere sergeant daring to ignore his commands? That man must have a death wish.

At that moment, a liaison officer nudged his shoulder and pointed out the window.

Instinctively looking up, Hercules saw a long streak of fire erupting on the southern horizon. A massive mushroom cloud billowed upward, its ashen haze spreading rapidly in all directions.

Radiation alarms blared on the vehicle consoles, but strangely, the detectors showed no abnormal radiation levels—no contamination whatsoever.

A hydrogen bomb without radioactive fallout? It felt like a nightmare—a surreal, layered hell. Hydrogen bombs triggered by laser ignition were astronomically expensive and required enormous infrastructure. How could rebels possibly transport such weapons?

Boom, boom, boom. No answers came—only another merciless wave of bombardment.

In less than fifteen minutes, nearly a hundred vehicles had been destroyed, and over 800 soldiers were dead or wounded. The staggering losses left Hercules reeling.

Each salvo from the siege tanks obliterated swathes of equipment. To a miserly commander like Hercules, watching millions of MYD vanish before his eyes was akin to having his flesh carved away.

And yet, he still hadn’t identified the enemy responsible for decimating his forces. Each plasma sphere that fell cost millions more… money, all gone.

Suddenly realizing how distracted he’d become, Hercules shook his head. What was he doing worrying about finances at a time like this? Lives hung in the balance.

But what else could he do? Send more men to die? Line them up as targets?

"Damn it, cursed beginnings... cursed beginnings." Hercules sighed deeply, staring at the casualty reports streaming onto his monitor. With gritted teeth, he shouted to the liaison officer: "Retreat! Order all units to disperse and retreat. Regroup at Point W."

His heart bled, his hands trembled. The glory he’d envisioned slipping through his fingers—and worse, this battle had squandered billions of MYD. How would he face the corps commander now?

"Huh, why does my mind keep circling back to money?" As the armored vehicle jolted forward, Hercules’s face receded in the rearview mirror. The surviving vehicles split into smaller groups, fleeing toward Brave Bastion in disarray.

Those stranded on the ridges weren’t so lucky. Cut off from retreat, they were ambushed by rebel forces emerging from concealed positions on the slopes, supported by Arroz’s assault team. Within ten minutes, every last one of them lay dead.

As the dust settled and gunfire ceased, Tang Fang arrived atop a Siege Tank, kicking up clouds of dirt as he approached.

Grant sprinted down the ridge, throwing his arms around Tang Fang in a bear hug. "I knew you’d make it out alive."

Tang Fang felt a flicker of warmth but teased, "You didn’t need to throw such a big party just to welcome me. Now I’ve got to clean up your mess."

"Ah, you always bring surprises," Grant said, releasing him. Glancing at the Siege Tank behind him, he asked, "Is this another long-lost teammate of yours?"

Tang Fang shrugged. "Guess."

Grant shot him a glare. "Crashed spaceship? What kind of ship carries these beasts? At least a cruiser, right?"

Tang Fang laughed loudly. "What if I told you these were taken from Apalus Military-Industrial Base?"

"Taken?" Grant blinked in disbelief. "Krotan has tech like this? I don’t buy it."

Kshh. At that moment, the hatch of one Siege Tank opened, and Housen leapt out, slapping the thick armor enthusiastically. "Hell yeah, this thing’s amazing! Smashing people with it feels incredible."

Grant’s expression darkened. Smashing people? One shot turned bones to ash.

"Talosal, welcome back." Flavius stepped forward with Webbren and several other rebel officers, embracing Tang Fang warmly and patting his back. "I always knew you were tough—not some short-lived fool."

Tang Fang grinned, holding up his broken communicator. "This thing’s busted. Can’t help it."

"No matter. As long as you’re safe, even if we all perish here, we’ll die smiling."

"Colonel, don’t be so dramatic." Tang Fang reached into his shoulder storage compartment, pulling out a bundle of syringes. Handing them to Flavius’s guards, he instructed, "Use these on the wounded."

"Yes, sir!" The guards trembled as they accepted the syringes, cradling them as though holding their comrades’ lives. They’d heard rumors of Tang Fang’s miraculous healing agents—capable of snatching life from the brink of death. Now, those syringes rested in their hands, filling them with awe.

"What are you waiting for? Go!" Flavius barked, snapping them out of their daze. The guards scrambled off to tend to the injured.

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