In a dimly lit chamber, a figure materialized out of thin air, collapsing onto the floor with a dull thud.
The figure belonged to Aaaninja.
Devoid of any visible wounds, there was nothing requiring immediate healing.
Thus, the Overseer dispatched him directly to his quarters.
Moments later, Aaaninja's consciousness returned.
His gaze swept across the unfamiliar surroundings, taking in the strange environment.
Yet, rather than lingering on the peculiarity of his arrival, he simply shook his head and rose to his feet, a quiet sigh slipping past his lips.
He turned to the window, his gaze distant as his mind raced, dissecting every moment that led to his downfall, how he had lost, how he had fallen unconscious.
Yet, no answers emerged.
Aaaninja was intimately aware of his own weaknesses, always refining himself, adapting, eliminating any flaw the moment it surfaced.
