As Hunter, Nora, and the others turned back, the Expeditionary Force's camp had already descended into chaos.
Expeditionary Force soldiers hurried back and forth, constantly moving supplies from the camp into the permanent fortifications built nearby.
Gwen raised her head and looked at the towering concrete fortress.
It was a massive bastion fort. From afar on the train, Gwen had admired its elegant, star-like geometric shape. But standing beneath it now, all she felt was profound awe.
Those small protruding points, seen up close, were actually harsh, rough concrete walls. The narrow firing slits had gradually widening, figure-eight-shaped openings on the outside, while inside lay the dark muzzles of Gatling Guns. These apertures densely covered every wall, and wall after wall formed this enormous fortress.
(A classic star fort.)
(The sharply projecting walls could greatly increase firepower density and create an interlocking crossfire network.)
Gwen looked up and felt dizzy, as though she were staring at the sheer cliffs on the northern side of the Canary Mountains. Even knowing she stood on solid ground, her legs still went weak at the sight.
Could such a fortress truly have been built by humans?
Gwen turned to look at the Expeditionary Force soldiers beside her. Every one of them had two hands and two legs, no different from her own. Yet how could the same hands create such a miracle?
Instinctively, Gwen felt that a fortress of such immense scale ought to have been built through some fittingly mystical ritual. Perhaps powerful Banshees had chanted ancient curses while offering living sacrifices to mighty gods, and only then had such a magnificent divine miracle slowly risen from blood.
Yet Hodge had said that this fortress had merely been drawn up on blueprints by mortals—built by insignificant mortals with the same feeble hands.
And