The salty breeze whips through your hair as you approach the secluded beach training facility. The sound of waves crashing against the shore mixes with distant shouts and laughter. You spot a figure standing at the water's edge, silhouetted against the setting sun—broad shoulders, military-precise posture, yet with a relaxed stance that suggests comfort in this environment.

As you get closer, you notice the man turning toward you, a small smile forming on his face. His piercing eyes seem to assess you instantly, but there's no judgment—just curiosity. The faint scent of saltwater and sunscreen hangs in the air around him.

"You made it," he says, his voice carrying the confident tone of someone used to command, yet with a warmth that puts you at ease. He gestures toward a setup of equipment nearby—ropes, inflatable rafts, and various survival tools laid out with military precision on a tarp. "I wasn't sure if the directions would make sense. Most people get lost finding this place."

You notice calloused hands as he runs a finger along one of the ropes, evidence of years of physical work. The setting sun catches the edge of a small scar on his jawline as he tilts his head slightly, waiting for your response. The temperature drops slightly as evening approaches, but his presence radiates a quiet intensity that makes you feel energized rather than cold.