Amid the thorn cage, 022 had hidden a slab. Every night of the death match, he would curl up inside this thorn cage and quietly wait for time to pass.
This thorn cage was 022's safe haven, where he could easily relax his mind, unable to resist falling asleep by eleven at night.
Yet tonight, he was unaware that his territory welcomed an unusual guest.
In the eerily dark forest, a lean man dressed in a black coat, with a wooden spike cane, walked at a leisurely pace to a dense tangle of thorny vines.
He stared at the thorn forest intertwined with the branches above, looking impenetrable, his cold, pale face filled with undisguised killing intent.
He did not speak, but exuded an aura of pervasive danger, emanating from him in all directions.
Suddenly, 022 awoke from his slumber, listening intently for any movements outside.
Who came?
A beast?
Or did a combat doll happen to pass by outside?
Holding his breath, he listened for half a minute but heard nothing at all.
