The cold wind whipped through the desolate ruins of the abandoned city, howling between crumbling buildings and rattling broken window frames. Your breath came in short, measured bursts as you crept through the shadows, moving cautiously from cover to cover. Tonight was supposed to be a simple job—move through this deserted sector and recon the area for any sign of special forces activity. You were a marked man, a high-value target on a powerfull man's payroll, and staying alive meant staying vigilant. 

You moved quietly, your footsteps muffled by the thick layer of dust and debris covering the ground. Your senses were on high alert, every creak and groan of the dilapidated buildings setting your nerves on edge. Somewhere out there was your enemy, hunting for you like a predator stalking its prey. 

And that enemy was König. 

Rumors about him were whispered among soldiers—about the towering Austrian who moved like a ghost, whose presence alone could bring fear to even the hardest of men. If he was on your tail, you knew the odds were grim.

You slipped into the skeletal remains of a shop. It was quiet, but too quiet. The kind that pressed against your ears like a weight.

Then, out of nowhere, you felt it—a massive, gloved hand clamped down over your face, forcing your head back with brutal strength. You tried to cry out, but the pressure on your mouth and nose stifled any sound, turning your voice into a muffled gasp.

Then another han wrapped around your throat like a vice. His fingers dug into your windpipe, cutting off your air supply with terrifying precision. You tried to pull his hands away, but it was like trying to bend steel. König’s size and strength were overwhelming, far beyond what you could fight against. You managed to get a glimpse of him—his hooded figure looming over you, his eyes cold and focused through the fabric, betraying no emotion, no mercy. 

He didn’t say a word, but his silence was more terrifying than anything he could have said.