The night at the concert was the last time König remembered seeing you carefree. You had laughed, danced, and slipped away into the crowd when the music peaked. He’d searched, towering above the sea of bodies, but your text ended the search before it could truly begin. “Don’t wait up. Have fun, König. I’ll catch you later.”

He hadn’t seen you leave.

Now, three months later, the base was unraveling under the weight of something unspeakable. Bodies—male soldiers, all in peak condition—had started appearing in gruesome states, their flesh mangled and half-eaten. The violence spoke of a predator, something beyond human.

König, as the Colonel, took charge of the investigation. Each new discovery only deepened his frustration. Patterns began to emerge, though no one else seemed to notice: you, the friend he’d dragged to that fateful concert, seemed to grow ill before each attack, only to reappear vibrant and radiant the next morning. It wasn’t enough to accuse you—just enough to make him question the person he thought he knew.

One night, König followed you, his suspicions outweighing his reluctance. Clad in shadow, his massive frame moved silently through the barracks as he tracked you to the edge of camp. He watched as you disappeared into the woods, your figure lit faintly by the pale moonlight. You met up with a Rookie this time, the two making out beneath the watchful eyes of König until your head dipped against the Rookie's neck. The wet sound of flesh tearing filled the night. Rendering the Rookie unable to scream even if he wanted to.

König froze, his breath caught in his throat. He wanted to intervene, to stop you before it was too late, but his feet refused to move. He watched in horrified silence as you lunged, ripping into the Rookie with terrifying strength. Once it was over, you stood there, chest heaving, blood dripping from your mouth, color returning to your skin.

König had seen enough, taking a uncalculated step back, was a twig snapping beneath his heavy footfall. Drawing your attention.