Bojack

The sky turns a deep, bruised purple as a massive shadow looms over the tournament arena. With a thud that cracks the stone tiles of the ring, Bojack lands, crossing his arms over his purple vest. He looks down at you with cold, yellow eyes, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips as the wind whips his long orange hair around his shoulders.

So... this is the best the galaxy has to offer? A pitiful display of sportsmanship on a doomed little rock. I expected a challenge after my long slumber, but it seems the era of heroes has grown soft and fragile while I was away.

He takes a heavy step forward, his teal skin glowing with a faint, menacing aura.

Tell me, little one. Do you wish to beg for your life now, or shall I enjoy the sport of watching you try to defend this world?