Otaku Translation: Carrying the Bases of Starcraft C182

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Chapter 182: The Final Battle of (Part 9)

Blood, cold and viscous, trickled along the edges of buildings, seeping through gaps in armor plating, before dripping with a rhythmic patter onto the ground below. The corpses of vehicle operators slumped near their hatches—some charred to ash, others gushing blood, some missing half of their bodies. Shattered organs, sinew-strewn bone fragments, blackened chunks of flesh reeking of burnt meat, severed hands, mangled limbs—all littered the snow-covered plains like detritus scattered by an indifferent storm.

War is always cruel, its brutality unrelenting. A battlefield is nothing more than a colossal meat grinder stained dark brown with blood; life enters at one end, death spits out the other. No matter how noble the knight or revered the general, once they lie stiff and lifeless on the ground, there’s no dignity left, no glory to be claimed. On this path paved with death and slaughter, a fallen soldier isn’t much different from a dead dog.

Tang Fang stared into the distance where flashes of light flickered against the horizon. A faint sorrow welled up in his chest. In the face of war, individual strength was so pitifully small that even a stray bullet or a shard of shrapnel could snuff out your existence without hesitation.

The rebel forces had already suffered nearly 4,000 casualties, while the government army had lost a staggering 30,000. Though the casualty ratio hovered around 1:10, the sheer size of the government's forces meant the rebels were teetering on the brink of collapse. They couldn’t afford any more losses—not if they hoped to survive.

As if things weren’t dire enough, a engaged with the enemy air fleet suddenly transmitted a chilling image back to command.

Somewhere near the coastline, something strange hung in the sky—a bizarre object, or rather, what appeared to be a ship. But not just any ship—it was a vessel the size of a spaceborne aircraft carrier. Its upper section formed a diamond-shaped hull, tapering down to a ring-like structure at its midsection. Below, thirty-two thrusters of varying sizes powered the behemoth, driven by capable of generating thrust so immense it defied belief. Despite its gargantuan proportions, the craft ascended with the agility of a vertical takeoff jet, climbing swiftly into the heavens.

But the ship’s true terror lay not in its monstrous size—it stretched over 700 meters—but in its ability to transform mid-flight. As it climbed, the pyramid-like structure atop its diamond hull unfolded like a blooming flower, revealing an orbital platform bristling with weaponry. Hundreds of aerospace fighters flanked its wings, while triangular "petals" adorned its surface, each lined with rows of electromagnetic railguns ranging from 220mm to 550mm in caliber—a total of 120 guns.

These, however, were merely secondary weapons. At the heart of the platform sat a supercharged plasma cannon, its barrel wider than the twin cannons stationed at the missile base. And that wasn’t all. From the lower half of the diamond hull to the upper rim of the propulsion ring, turrets housing dual-barreled autocannons emerged, each boasting 180mm barrels. Add to that a dizzying array of missile launchers scattered across the ship, bringing the total number of weapon systems to over 200.

Aerospace fighters, hundreds of secondary cannons, and a plasma cannon powerful enough to level cities—this wasn’t just a battleship. It was a mobile fortress. And to make matters worse, there weren’t one but two of them.

“‘’? ? I should have guessed,” Tang Fang muttered under his breath.

His mind flashed back to the secret underground facility north of the . Now he understood why it had been empty when they arrived—it had been relocated here, to the Arctic, for this very campaign. He thought about the massive tank storing and felt a chill run down his spine. Cain Rudolf truly didn’t hold back when it came to throwing money at problems. Anti-gravity engines powered by EZero? That was practically lighting cash on fire.

Everyone knew were products of . While humanity’s reverse-engineering efforts allowed them to reach , it paled in comparison to the Epsilon standard of 9.9999. Moreover, the entire process—from filtration to catalysis to energy utilization—took up nearly a third of the ship’s internal space. Yet, there was one advantage: EZero efficiency was high, leaving little room for waste.

Human-developed , on the other hand, were compact but voracious consumers of power. Typically nuclear-powered, these engines could only support smaller destroyers and cruisers breaching planetary atmospheres. Larger ships faced structural limitations, energy distribution challenges, and environmental complexities that rendered such feats impossible.

Then someone had the bright idea to replace nuclear power with EZero. With its terrifying output potential, it could theoretically sustain carriers and larger vessels in combat within .

It sounded great on paper, but reality proved far less forgiving. After countless modifications, anti-gravity engines finally became compatible with Element Zero—but at a steep cost. Energy efficiency remained abysmally low, resulting in massive resource wastage. Experts attributed this failure to the fundamental differences between Epsilon’s tech tree and humanity’s own. The gap between civilizations was simply too vast for current human knowledge to bridge. Thus, EZero-driven anti-gravity engines became a white elephant—a costly project with minimal returns—and related research was shelved indefinitely.

Tang Fang never imagined he’d see such a monstrosity here, let alone mounted on a 700-meter-long warship—or rather, a battle fortress. Most of the carrier’s interior volume and energy reserves must have been dedicated to powering its weapon systems. Between the 120 railguns, the central plasma cannon, four anti-gravity engines, and various auxiliary combat units, the hourly consumption of EZero would be astronomical. Millions of credits burned away every hour.

Why would Cain Rudolf build two of these money pits? To counter the ? Hardly. More likely, they were intended as tools for Aldrich to restrain Adams or defend against a potential invasion. Once airborne, these carriers would become . Paired with ground-based missile bases and aerospace units, they’d render Adams’ cruiser fleet utterly insignificant. Even if Sulru declared war, these behemoths could hold off enemy fleets long enough for reinforcements to arrive.

The movers and shakers of the imperial court were as ruthless as ever.

What Cain Rudolf hadn’t anticipated, however, was that Ramsden wouldn’t rebel and the Sulru Empire’s fleet wouldn’t attack. Instead, Aldrich turned these weapons against the insurgents.

Submersible carriers, aircraft carriers, aerospace carriers, orbital fortresses—it didn’t matter how much they cost. Their combat effectiveness spoke for itself. Those two Skíðblaðnir-class carriers combined possessed firepower exceeding ten times that of the rebel army’s besieging legions.

No wonder Governor Aldrich dared to launch a full-scale assault despite knowing about the mysterious unit wreaking havoc at and the Antarctic Air Force Base. Armed with such devastating weapons and supported by ground troops, even divine intervention couldn’t save Marion’s rebellion now.

Based on the Viking’s intel, the missile base would fall within range of those carriers’ guns in thirty minutes. Faced with 120 railguns and a main plasma cannon unleashing barrages of projectiles, the base’s defenses would crumble instantly.

Already struggling against 200,000 armored troops and naval bombardment, the arrival of these two fortresses spelled doom for the rebels. The outcome was obvious—even a child could guess it.

If Tang Fang wanted to escape, he could ensure Marion, Virginia, and the other leaders slipped away safely. But what about the soldiers? What about those who fought tirelessly for a future they might never see, bound by oaths and dreams too distant to touch? Abandon them? Wouldn’t that make him no better than the imperial nobles he despised?

He knew Marion wouldn’t abandon his comrades. Neither would Grant nor Claire. As their friend, how could he stand idly by, making excuses instead of helping? How could he live with himself afterward? If he couldn’t save even a handful of friends, how could he talk about justice or overthrowing Colcrav I’s tyranny?

Once a decision was made, it had to be seen through to the bitter end. Even if it meant breaking bones or shedding blood, giving up wasn’t an option. A man lived by his convictions—even if it earned him the scorn of thousands, he refused to be a coward.

“Arroz, scared?”

“Pfft.” Arroz didn’t respond. Instead, he spat out his cigar and traced a skull pattern onto his mud-caked shoulder plate.

“Grant, hold the line. Tell Marion and everyone else in the rebel ranks: whatever strange sights they witness next, don’t panic. Don’t falter.”

Before Grant could turn around, shadows streaked across the sky. Arroz crouched atop a Viking, resembling a knight riding the winds, speeding southward. Close behind followed a multi-eyed leviathan nearly forty meters tall, with Tang Fang standing calmly on its back. Not far away, Housen cursed loudly as a balloon-like creature carried him swinging wildly through the air, also heading south.

Meanwhile, bursts of light erupted in the buffer zone ahead of the frontlines. Creatures taller than humans, fanged and clawed, with bat-like wings, surged forward like a rolling tide of locusts, charging straight toward the government infantry clusters. Behind them came another wave—armored insects bearing blades, their hard shells shielding their bodies as they burrowed rapidly into the icy terrain beneath the snow.

The final battle had begun.

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