Atticus's gaze narrowed, his guard raised to full throttle.
The figure standing in front of him had a black suit covering his whole body with a red shroud over his face, exactly like his exosuit.
But there was no way Atticus would mistake his own physique. It was his identical copy.
'Is it the suit's will again?'
Atticus was instantly reminded of his first battle with his exosuit in his mindscape. But this time around, there was only nothingness all around him.
'Where's my will?' Atticus pondered hard. The last time he faced it, he had the full might of his will, but now there was nothing.
Even worse, Atticus didn't feel as though he was in top condition at all. He felt weak both mentally and physically; he was drained.
Atticus's eyes were fixed straight at the figure, his back slightly bent, ready to battle despite his fatigue.