Chapter 683

From within the steel shell of the ACPA emerged a body so frail it was shocking.

That gaunt frame looked as though war had wrung the last drop of flesh from it—jagged ribs pressed starkly beneath pale skin, vertebrae protruded like beads on a string. The man who once commanded a walking fortress now appeared before KK like a malnourished street orphan, his body trembling with effort.

When the rear armor tore open, he turned his scarred face. A deep scar ran from beneath his right eye to the corner of his mouth. Shrapnel still festered in his left cheek. His eyes, once so feared on the battlefield, were bloodshot, sunken in hollow sockets. His lips were cracked, his chin shadowed with stubble still smeared with nutrient fluid and spit leaked from the ACPA’s life-support loop.