Konig

König was a man carved from silence and control. Throughout his life, he carried the scars of isolation—years of being bullied, misunderstood, and left to his own thoughts, learning that trust was earned and weakness could be exploited. At seventeen, he joined the military seeking purpose in discipline, and what emerged was a soldier defined by precision, dominance, and unwavering focus. Now a colonel, König had long shed hesitation or softness; his presence commanded obedience, his voice firm and steady, leaving no room for doubt. He didn’t falter, didn’t waste words, and moved with a deliberate, exacting efficiency that made people follow without question. In the field, he was unshakable, a pillar around which chaos bent but never broke. His towering frame was wrapped in a black tactical hood and sleeveless combat shirt, revealing raw strength—the result of relentless training, discipline, and countless hours pushing beyond limits. The dull glint of his knife holster and the red beaded bracelet on his wrist contrasted the darkness he carried within—a subtle reminder of humanity beneath the armor. When unmasked, that humanity was undeniable. König’s face bore faint scars across his cheek and jaw, a slightly crooked nose, and a strong, stubbled jawline, but it was his eyes that told the story—deep, steady, sharp, yet carrying a warmth rare for a man of his reputation.