Otaku Translation: Carrying the Bases of Starcraft C204

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Everyone from

was stunned. , that insufferable loudmouth, had suddenly turned into a deflated balloon, pulling off this unexpected act, leaving Housen unsure whether to laugh or cry. His expression was like that of a fifth-grader staring down an impossible math problem.

"Ha... hahaha, HAHAHA!" At that moment, Churchill—previously the picture of misery—sprang back to life like a defeated video game boss unlocking its final form. He stood up, laughing loudly, and shot a wink at , who was standing behind him, utterly dumbfounded. "So? How’s that for performance? Rate me out of ten!"

Oh, so this whole thing was just an acting exercise. Housen felt played—and worse, it stung more than if Churchill had simply insulted him. "You little punk! You think you can mess with me?" Housen's temper flared as he raised his arm, spinning the barrel of his grenade launcher and chambering a .

Churchill didn’t flinch. He lifted his and sneered, "Watch me roast you like a pig on a spit."

"Enough!" barked, stepping forward with a veteran's authority. With a swift kick and a shove, he sent both men tumbling to the ground. Then, without missing a beat, he planted his boot firmly on Churchill's head. "What is wrong with you two? Have some perspective. This isn’t the time or place for your nonsense."

"Good job, Arroz!" Housen chimed in, instantly forgetting the humiliation he’d just suffered now that his rival was getting chewed out.

But before he could bask in his schadenfreude, Arroz snorted and spat the half-smoked cigar from his mouth onto Housen’s helmet. "And you," he growled, glaring daggers at him, "if you cause one more scene, I’ll use your face as an ashtray. Got it?"

"You… you… YOU—" Housen sputtered, looking alternately at Walton, who was pointedly ignoring him, and Arroz, whose cold stare promised retribution. Whatever cutting remark he’d been about to hurl died unspoken in his throat.

Meanwhile, Churchill scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off. He shot both men a venomous glare, clearly itching to throw a few choice words their way to save face. But before he could open his mouth, cut him off with a sharp, "Shut up."

To everyone’s surprise, Churchill immediately softened, grinning sheepishly at Claire. "Big Sis, you’re right. My bad. I’ll shut up."

Walton stared at him, jaw slack. That slick-as-oil "Big Sis"? Claire was three years younger than Churchill, mind you—a fact any sane person would have hesitated over before calling her “Big Sis.”

"Don’t look at me like that," Churchill muttered, jerking his thumb toward ’s retreating back. "The boss lady scares me."

"Damn." Walton muttered under his breath. So even stubborn mules could have moments of clarity.

---

On the other side of the room, Tang Fang paid no attention to the squabbling duo. Recalling his , he stepped closer to the nearest , studying the ancient sentinel now returned to its dormant state.

Could it be that they recognized the on his forehead, prompting them to stand down? Judging by the assembly lines lining the walls, these guardians were mechanical constructs, not actual Epsilons. This much was clear from Liana’s memory as well. What puzzled Tang Fang, though, was why the guardians they’d encountered on bore ε marks on their foreheads, while these ones did not.

What did it mean? Were there different ranks among the guardians?

"Tang Fang, what are you thinking about?" Claire asked, joining him. She glanced up at the statues, which moments ago had radiated murderous intent but now stood motionless as stone. There was something she couldn’t quite explain. When they’d first entered the room, instead of fear or awe, she’d felt an inexplicable surge of anger—raw, uncontrollable fury bubbling in her chest.

It made no sense. She’d never met a statue guardian before. Why would she feel such a bizarre reaction? Thankfully, the emotion faded as quickly as it had come, leaving her as bewildered as ever. She kept it to herself; it sounded too irrational to share, and she doubted anyone would believe her anyway.

"Nothing important," Tang Fang replied with a faint smile. "Let’s go. and the others are waiting outside. We shouldn’t keep them waiting too long." He turned and walked past the display platforms.

Claire hesitated for a moment, then hurried after him. Behind her trailed Walton, followed by Housen and Churchill, who glowered at each other like jealous exes under the looming shadow of Arroz.

At the far end of the room, the sensor door slid open, and Tang Fang stepped through. A cascade of circular lights illuminated the area, stretching as far as the eye could see. They found themselves on a floating platform suspended in midair. At the edge of the platform, a crescent-shaped indentation led to a transparent crystal elevator shaft.

Beyond the shaft loomed a massive cylindrical structure, its central turbine glowing with an eerie blue light. The turbine extended downward into the depths, vanishing from sight.

"Whoa." Claire, Walton, and the others gasped in unison. Even though they’d braced themselves mentally, the sheer scale of the spectacle left them breathless.

"Pfft, this is nothing," Housen scoffed, only to clamp his mouth shut when Arroz shot him a dagger-sharp glare.

"Let’s move," Tang Fang said, exhaling deeply as he approached the elevator controls. A few moments later, a ring of light descended, bringing an ε-marked elevator platform to their level.

The six of them filed aboard. Once inside, Tang Fang tapped a control panel on the crystalline wall, triggering a ripple effect. A menu appeared, and he selected the descent option. The platform began its rapid journey downward.

As they descended, rings of light zipped past, and the intricate machinery surrounding the turbine dazzled their eyes. Claire and the others gawked openly, feeling like country bumpkins visiting a futuristic megacity for the first time.

Tang Fang, Arroz, and Housen, on the other hand, maintained a bit more composure. Having survived Planet Namie, they were somewhat desensitized to grand displays of alien technology.

Tang Fang’s focus remained fixed on something else entirely: a colossal crystalline conduit running parallel to the turbine, over 100 meters in diameter. Inside surged a torrent of Element Zero (EZero), vast quantities of it. Just imagining how much wealth this reservoir contained made Tang Fang’s mouth water. The half-tank of EZero he’d salvaged from had netted him 46,000 gas units. If this container held thousands of times more, the potential payoff was staggering.

"Look! Over there! ! Actual Epsilon warships!" Walton shouted, pointing excitedly to the left.

Following his gaze, Tang Fang spotted nine sleek, manta-like vessels docked on what appeared to be a landing pad. These weren’t the they’d escaped Planet Namie in—they were genuine Epsilon warships, likely corvette-class based on their size. Still, they commanded everyone’s undivided attention.

"See that recess at the front? That’s definitely the main cannon," Churchill declared, practically vibrating with excitement. As a gunner, nothing thrilled him more than big guns. "One shot from that thing could probably take out an ."

The others shared his sentiment. The technological gap between humanity and the Epsilons was vast, and their ships were in a league of their own.

Warships. This ruin still housed Epsilon-built warships. The group exchanged wide-eyed glances, all of them silently processing the implications.

"And it’s not just warships! Look—cargo ships too!" Walton exclaimed again.

This time, Tang Fang and the others noticed a sprawling docking array below and to the right. Dozens of spindle-shaped freighters, each over 600 meters long, were secured within layered rectangular docks. They resembled slumbering leviathans, their bulk nearly matching that of an aircraft carrier.

"Six hundred meters…" Tang Fang murmured. Each ship was easily large enough to transport multiple manta warships. Unfortunately, as Walton noted, these weren’t armed. Their purpose seemed logistical—to ferry EZero and supplies between relay stations.

"Tang Fang, look…" Housen spoke up, drawing their attention away from the ships. Unlike Walton, he wasn’t pointing at machinery or vessels but rather at the massive that had been descending alongside them.

At some point, gray-brown "stripes" had appeared along the crystalline pipe. Calling them stripes was generous—they looked more like thick bands wrapped around the conduit.

"Hmm?" Tang Fang frowned, adjusting his helmet’s visual analysis mode. The data revealed that each band was approximately 0.8 kilometers long and fifty meters wide. They encircled the pipe like decorative ribbons.

When the elevator platform leveled with one of the bands, Tang Fang thought he saw it twitch.

"Is that my imagination?" Before the thought fully formed, the seemingly inert band began to tremble violently.

"Snap-crackle-pop." Gray-brown patches started peeling off, revealing cracks and fissures from which crimson light poured. In the predominantly blue environment, the red glow was startling.

Chunks of the "tape" rained down, smashing against the turbine’s external components or plunging into the abyss below. Faint echoes followed each impact.

"What… what’s going on?" Churchill stammered, wide-eyed and pale.

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