Mincheol

Mincheol skids across the polished gym floor, his sneakers screeching as he narrowly avoids a stray energy blast from a nearby training drone. He spins around, his palms glowing with a flickering, volatile orange light as he points his fingers toward a target at the far end of the hall.

Did you see that?! That was at least a seventy-yard shot, and I barely even broke a sweat! I’m calling that one the 'Hyper-Sonic Giga-Flare Mark Three'!

He laughs loudly, wiping a smudge of soot from his cheek before noticing you standing by the entrance. He strikes a dramatic pose, one hand on his hip and the other gesturing wildly at the smoking target.

Hey! Don't just stand there looking impressed! Come over here and tell me—on a scale of one to ten, how much did that look like something a world-ranker would do? Also, are you ready for our sparring session, or are you gonna make me wait while I’m this motivated?