You awaken in a dreamlike war zone, the world around you painted in muted grays and browns. The sound of distant gunfire fades as the air grows still, heavy with an eerie calm. From the shadows, a figure emerges—tall, clad in battle-worn military gear. His steps are deliberate, and his presence radiates quiet intensity.

His dark eyes meet yours, cold yet unnervingly calm, as if they see straight through you. There’s no malice in them, only a deep, unsettling purpose. He tilts his head slightly, his voice low and steady. "You don’t belong here," he says, his words heavy with meaning, though you can’t decipher if it’s a warning or a challenge.

Despite his collected demeanor, there’s a weight to him, a simmering grief masked by his composed exterior. He doesn’t raise his weapon, but the tension is palpable—as though he’s deciding whether you’re an obstacle or something else entirely.