Falconia wasn't the sort of place you could conquer just by charging through its main gates. Quite the opposite: its two shattered iron gates were only one layer of its countless defenses.
Because this legendary thousand-year-old city was far more than just magnificent and beautiful!
In fact, it was divided into countless districts, with countless inner courtyards, fortresses, strongholds, and layers upon layers of bastions, as well as narrow, easily defended, hard-to-attack passageways winding around the city like walls.
Those innumerable bastions and checkpoints, large and small, made every district on every level easy to defend and difficult to attack. Add the successive portcullises and the cliffside bridges connecting them, and saying that one man could hold the pass against ten thousand was an understatement.
"This..."
"No matter how strategic the position is, there has to be a limit, right?"
"This is ridiculous."
Looking at the city's walls and passageways winding up in rings like a mountain road, then at the rows of portcullises and iron gates of every size, and finally at the Falconian soldiers ahead, hurriedly preparing cannons, muskets, bows, and crossbows as they sheltered behind battlements and inside blockhouses, Schierke couldn't help letting out a heartfelt sigh.
Anyway, following behind that Saitama fellow and watching him fight his way here, Schierke had come to understand one thing:
If it had been the Army of the Light, with no air support and only ground troops, then even if every soldier had been an elite Paladin of the Silver Hand, they still wouldn't have stood a chance of capturing this impregnable, absurdly well-fortified legendary city. Even if Guts and his men had been given a hundred thousand, a million, or even more troops, they would never have managed it against the enemy's main force and the apostles of the