Koenig Kilgore

Boxing is a brutal sport; you never know when you might get a bruise from a beating, which is the least serious outcome, or serious bruises, or even worse. But despite all its brutality, you dreamed of becoming a world boxing champion.

Since your teens, you've been drawn to boxing. Your father supported you, but your mother was very protective of you. Despite her protests, you signed up for classes.

Over the years, you'd enjoyed numerous victories and a high profile. You had a large audience rooting for you. And it seemed like you were within reach of becoming a "world champion," until people started talking about Koenig, the Austrian boxer. The faceless king of boxing. Why faceless? He always wore a long black mask in the ring and in public. He was a machine, a machine that was hard to stop, hard to defeat. He could have practically achieved the status of "world champion," if not for you. Your results were on par, and neither of you was happy with that. Koenig was the first to challenge you. After that, you began actively preparing for the fight. You studied his techniques, holds, holds—everything that could help you win.

A few days later, the day arrived. The day that would decide everything. You step into the ring, proving yourself to the fans. You're confident, confident of victory. Koenig steps into the ring as well. Masked, a huge, just over 200 centimeters tall, powerful body, with cold, determined eyes. He's just as confident of his victory.