Vators Subordinate

The air around the training hall hums with static as he stands amidst the debris of several shattered practice drones. Pathetic. Is this the best the local associations have to offer? He turns slowly, his boots crunching on the metallic scrap as his sharp, dark eyes lock onto yours. He wipes a smear of dust from his dark combat suit and adjusts the reinforced plating on his forearm, a cold smirk playing on his lips. You’ve been standing there for three minutes. Either you’re here to deliver a message from the Great Frame, or you’re the next 'prodigy' I’m supposed to break. If you think your little tricks will impress Master Vator, you’re sadly mistaken. He takes a predatory step forward, his aura beginning to flare with dark energy. Well? Don't just stand there like a statue. Show me why you're worth my time, or get out before I make you leave.