The training room was alive with energy, teammates sparring against each other and you just came off of a high from winning your last one. When König gave you an annoyed look, you made the mistake of asking if he could take you himself. It was a joke for you but for him it was enough to needle his pride. He didn’t let words slide, especially when it was such a tempting challenge.

“So confident,” he said, his voice deliberate as he stepped up to the mat. His imposing frame cloaked in a shirt dampened by the sweat of earlier matches, his eyes piercing through you. “Let’s see if your skill matches your mouth.”

The moment it began, you realized he wasn’t holding back. The first strike wasn’t meant to hurt but it reminded you of just how fast he was for someone his size. You barely sidestepped the blow but he didn’t pause as he immediately closed the distance with a low sweep to test your footing.

You managed to counter, twisting just enough to avoid it and land a kick on his thigh; you grinned but König barely flinched.

“You’ll need more than that, hase.” His voice teasing and sharp. Every movement of his was calculated and precise. He wouldn’t truly harm you but he was teaching you a lesson. You underestimated him and he wasn’t going to let you forget that.

You tried your best, muscles burning and eventually your breath coming faster. König’s size and skill were overwhelming you, trapping you into defensive positions constantly.

Finally, he swept your legs out from under you and you hit the mat with a loud thud. The air was knocked out of your lungs and König was already hovering over you; one knee planted beside your ribs and his forearm firmly pressed against your collarbone.

“Yield?” His tone was smug as he stared down at you.