Under his gaze, a bald man with metallic prosthetic arms and an inverted cross branded on his neck sneered as he deactivated his mimicry disguise, revealing his true form. “batard”

“You motherfucker!” Jack Spencer roared, raising his rifle.

But with a flash of cold light, in just that instant, his gun-wielding right arm was sliced into three pieces.

Time seemed to stop at that moment. Watching the marrow spill and fly from his severed bone in midair, Jack Spencer instantly felt the hopeless gap between prosthetics and flesh. “Am I going to die?”

The next moment, time resumed. Fierce gunfire erupted, bullets shooting from the left, blocking the bald man.

Glancing at the now nearly blood-soaked Jack Spencer, the man sneered, quickly reactivated his mimicry disguise, and vanished on the spot.

Just as Jack Spencer was about to collapse, Brian Carter, holding a rifle, rushed over and dragged him out of the battlefield.

Thanks to his actions, both sides were already fighting each other and had no time to bother with them.

“Am I going to die?” The delayed pain finally arrived, and as his consciousness began to blur, Jack Spencer spoke haltingly.

Brian Carter quickly dragged Jack Spencer to a low spot safe from bullets. “You won’t die!”

As he reached out his hand, the slender fiber optic cable that had previously hacked into the computer swiftly burrowed into Jack Spencer’s body, rapidly stitching up ruptured blood vessels, and the bleeding quickly decreased.

But that wasn’t enough—Jack Spencer was already on the verge of hypovolemic shock.

Brian Carter quickly used a sensor wire to check Jack Spencer’s blood type, scanned around, and dragged back a mangled corpse from outside. As the sensor wire was inserted into the corpse’s blood vessel, the translucent wire gradually turned blood red, and another wire was inserted into Jack Spencer’s body.

“Wait, wait! I’m not dead yet!” The man struggled to open his eyes.

Brian Carter raised his fist and slammed it hard into the man’s head, caving in his skull. “Now you are.”

As the still-warm blood was quickly transfused into Jack Spencer, his deathly pale face gradually regained color.

Brian Carter rapidly scanned the surroundings for anything useful with his radar. Finally, after injecting Jack Spencer with a painkiller-stimulant found on the corpse, Jack Spencer finally came to.

Opening his eyes again, Jack Spencer looked up at the rainy gray sky and cursed fiercely, “Fuck!” At this moment, Jack Spencer was immensely grateful he’d brought Brian Carter online with him. If he hadn’t had this prehistoric robot, he probably would have died just now.

“Hurry up and go. If you don’t, you won’t be able to fuck anything. I don’t have any anti-infection meds, and your wound’s been soaked by acid rain. If you don’t find a doctor, you still won’t last long.”

After saying this, Brian Carter helped Jack Spencer up, ready to leave.

“Wait.” Enduring the pain, Jack Spencer looked at the corpse with the caved-in head and stopped.

This guy also looked like a mercenary. His black prosthetic arms looked high-tech, and his clothes were riddled with bullet holes, making him look utterly miserable.

He had a skull tattoo on his left cheek, messy dirty dreadlocks, and two big nose rings—he didn’t look like a good guy by any stretch.

Jack Spencer glanced at his own empty right arm, then at the corpse’s metal prosthetic. “Can you attach it to me?”

Thinking of the bald man who’d nearly killed him, Jack Spencer couldn’t suppress his anger. Wasn’t it just bullying him for not having a prosthetic?

But Jack Spencer wasn’t just acting on impulse. The enemy might not have left yet, possibly lurking nearby, ready to strike. He had to restore his combat ability as much as possible.

“Too many prosthetics and you’ll get cyberpsychosis.”

“Look at the situation we’re in—now’s not the time to worry about that! Let’s just get out of here alive first!” The gunfire all around made Jack Spencer stop caring about anything else. In this environment, losing an arm was as good as being useless.

“Alright, you’re the boss.” Brian Carter’s fingers quickly transformed into tools and began dismantling the corpse’s metal right arm.

While the painkillers were still working, the mangled flesh and broken bone were swiftly cut away, and soon the matte black metal arm was transplanted onto Jack Spencer.

As a tingling sensation shot through his nerves, Jack Spencer found he could move his right hand again.

He held the metal arm in front of him, slowly opening and closing his hand, feeling like he’d gotten his hand back.

With a “clang,” a blade crackling with electricity popped out from his forearm, the reflection of Jack Spencer’s excited face shining on its edge.

With a “clack,” the blade snapped back, the five metal fingers bent backward against the arm, and a black cannon barrel spiraled open from the palm.

This prosthetic could even mount a cannon—clearly, some of the nearby explosions had been caused by this thing.

Starting to feel the pain, Jack Spencer picked up a painkiller-stimulant from the ground and jabbed it straight into his thigh. As his pupils contracted, he felt like the sky was suddenly brightening.

“Looks like I’ve struck gold.” Regaining his mobility, Jack Spencer put the last bit of painkiller-stimulant into his pocket and stood up, gritting his teeth.