Otaku Translation: Carrying the Bases of Starcraft C177

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Chapter 177: The Final Battle of (Part 4)

Fate—it truly was a mischievous force.

No sooner had the soldier finished his silent reflection than a series of sharp, crackling sounds erupted behind him. Twisting around, he saw —no larger than a washbasin—scurrying forward on their skeletal four legs at incredible speed. They bypassed the frontline defenses, crossed the battlefield, and charged directly toward the fleeing armored clusters on the flanks.

"BOOM. BOOM. BOOM."

Dazzling bursts of light ignited the horizon, and massive mushroom clouds billowed outward, spreading shockwaves that whipped up hurricane-force winds across kilometers. Heat waves swept over the battlefield, melting the ice at a visible pace, causing it to fracture and collapse.

The soldier froze. The officers in the trenches froze. The medics rushing about froze. Everyone on the frontlines was utterly dumbstruck.

On the distant horizon, flashes of light merged into a continuous blaze. The swelling mushroom clouds nearly engulfed the southern sky, disrupting all communications and disabling sensitive equipment.

This… this was a nuclear explosion—a string of them. Judging by the size of the mushroom clouds, they were likely kiloton-class tactical hydrogen bombs—but there were over a dozen of them. The explosions formed an almost unbroken line.

The government forces—those poor bastards—had been decimated. More than half of their armored division was wiped out. Of the 20,000-strong vanguard, only a fraction might survive to retreat.

"Where… where did these allies come from? And how dare they use nukes…" The soldier muttered, his voice trembling. "How could they justify using such devastating weapons?"

A similar scene unfolded in the base’s command center. , , and the others stood slack-jawed, necks craned, eyes wide with disbelief. Where on earth had he gotten these things?

The government’s air superiority had been obliterated, their long-range units battered by the tanks arrayed before the base, and their infantry routed. And now, this man had unleashed weapons of apocalyptic destruction.

"Was it really wise to use nuclear weapons?" Virginia murmured after snapping out of her daze, her face etched with worry. "Won’t this give the Empire ammunition to crucify us? News of the resistance using radioactive weapons will put us under global scrutiny…"

Marion frowned deeply, sharing her unease. By international convention, radioactive weapons like "dirty bombs" were forbidden on inhabited planets. This decision was reckless, even irresponsible. At worst, it could shatter the image the resistance had painstakingly built over the years.

"Ge-General…" Suddenly, an environmental monitor turned and spoke. "We’ve detected no radioactive residue in the atmosphere, only traces of . The lethal blast radius of each explosion was approximately 300-400 meters. These fall within the category of conventional tactical weapons—not weapons of mass destruction."

No radioactive contamination? ? Not dirty bombs? Clean nukes? How was that possible? was still in its experimental stages, requiring equipment so large it was practically immobile. How had he managed to miniaturize it? No, not miniaturized—micronized.

"General, General… It’s ! He must be back!" stumbled into the command center, only to find everyone staring at him as if he were an idiot.

"You…" His gaze fell on the central screen, and he shivered involuntarily. "So you already know."

At that moment, Tang Fang stood beside Arroz, gazing at the dissipating smoke on the horizon. Between them sat a rebel soldier, slumped on the ground, his half-buried machine gun gleaming faintly in the flickering firelight.

"It’s over," Arroz said quietly.

"No, it’s not." Tang Fang’s eyes scanned the roaring past overhead. "That was just Aldrich’s vanguard. Once the arrow is loosed, there’s no turning back. If I were him, I wouldn’t give up so easily."

"Talosal, Talosal…" A familiar voice called out from behind.

Tang Fang turned to see Grant and Walton running toward him. Without hesitation, they pulled him into a bear hug. "Thank you, thank you…"

"Grant, your snot is on my face," Tang Fang deadpanned, ruining the heartfelt moment.

With a thud, Grant punched his steel-plated chest and quickly wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes. A hardened man in his thirties, one who wouldn’t flinch even in death, was now unable to contain the overwhelming gratitude welling up inside him. Tears blurred his vision.

That time, Tang Fang had thwarted "Venom Scythe" and "Locust Swarm," saving everyone in his team. That time, he’d crushed the mixed submarine and ship fleet lurking on the seas, rescuing the entire . That time, he’d risked everything to turn the tide, salvaging the precarious situation on Odin’s eastern front. And now, he’d appeared once again on the Arctic battlefield, standing like a pillar against the raging storm, pulling the resistance back from the brink.

Wherever he went, miracles followed. Grant, the Northern Sunaru Alliance, and indeed the entire Garcia Resistance owed him their lives.

"Oh, by the way, from now on, you can call me Tang Fang. Don’t use Talosal anymore," Tang Fang said, rubbing his nose awkwardly. Watching a grown man cry in front of him made his skin crawl.

"I knew it was an alias," Grant shot back, glaring at him.

Tang Fang shrugged. "It was necessary… circumstances forced my hand."

---

While they were talking, in the government army’s vanguard command post, Colonel Howard stared grimly at the casualty reports. His eyebrows knitted together in frustration, his fists clenched so tightly that his fingers dug into his palms.

In the blink of an eye, 2,700 infantrymen were dead, over 300 vehicles destroyed, and the frontline forces had collapsed entirely. Total casualties neared 7,000. Adding in previous losses, nearly half of the vanguard battalion had been wiped out.

How could he possibly accept such a catastrophic loss? What face would he have to show Aldrich?

"Colonel, Command Center is demanding an explanation. They want to know what happened on the frontlines and why the situation deteriorated so suddenly," the liaison officer reported hesitantly.

Through the viewport of the colossal "Mammoth"-class command vehicle, Howard gazed at his terrified soldiers scattered across the battlefield. With a deep sigh, he gave his orders. "Compile the data from this battle and transmit it to Command. Simultaneously, send a distress signal to Governor Aldrich."

Not only had their ground forces been routed by the mysterious enemy that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, but their air support—fighters, bombers, and other aircraft—had also been chased off in disarray. Most of these aerial units belonged to the naval fleet stationed hundreds of kilometers offshore, separate from the vanguard battalion. Presumably, the fleet command had already uploaded their combat data to headquarters. There was no point hiding the truth any longer. Defeat was defeat. Faced with the overwhelming technological superiority of that enigmatic force, no commander—no matter how skilled, not even him—could have avoided this outcome.

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