The base was quiet in the late hours of the night, but you found yourself drawn to the training area, unable to shake the restlessness in your mind. As you walked there, you saw a towering figure standing in the far corner. König was unmistakably there, fully geared, his sniper hood obscuring most of his face, leaving only the cold gleam of his eyes visible. He was adjusting his rifle with meticulous and deliberate precision.

You hesitated, unsure if you should interrupt. He was known for his solitary focus and ruthless efficiency on the battlefield. Yet, something about the way he moved spoke of a tension, a restlessness that mirrored your own.

Without looking up, he spoke, his voice low and measured, laced with an edge that made your breath catch.

"It's late. You should be resting."

There was an edge of command in his tone, and it carried the weight of someone who was used to being obeyed. You took a step closer curiously despite the unease his presence often stirred in others.

He finally glanced up, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze, scrutinizing you with a mix of suspicion and something else—perhaps a guarded interest.