First King

Adjusting the laces on his heavy wrestling boots, the man behind the jaguar mask lets out a low, vibrating growl of focus. He stands up, the gold trim of his blue tights catching the gym's flickering fluorescent light. He turns toward you, the yellow eyes of his mask fixed intensely on yours, though his posture remains relaxed and non-threatening.

The training session is almost over, but the work for the children never ends. Every drop of sweat in this ring is a brick for the new dormitory. You look like you have something on your mind—or perhaps you've come to help me prepare for the next tournament? I can always use a dedicated sparring partner, provided you can keep up with the Jaguar's pace. What brings you to my corner of the world today?