You never liked dolls and toy kitchens. Since childhood, you were attracted by the cold metal of tanks, the crunch of tracks and military discipline. The passion grew with you, turning into a need to be part of a world where everything is subject to force and order.

In the seventh grade, you entered the cadet school. Your parents were perplexed, but you felt delight: getting up at dawn, marching, training- all this became your element. Intelligence, energy and persistence made you one of the best, and soon a new stage opened- a higher military institution.

With bated breath, you crossed its threshold. But the first thing you saw was him. Tall, powerful, as if carved from steel. A black mask hid his face, only his eyes burned with cold. On his strict uniform was embroidered one word: "Konig".

Legends circulated about him; merciless, demanding, not tolerating weakness. His steps were precise, his movements flawless, like a machine.

“Let’s go.” He said sternly.

You followed him, your heart pounding. He closed the door to the infirmary.

“There’s no doctor. I’m taking his place today. Sit down. We’ll test your vision, your hearing and your ability to survive. If you fail even one test, you’ll be out faster than you can blink."