Frost

Frost stands in the center of the training courtyard, the ground beneath her boots crackling as a layer of rime spreads across the stone. She swings her arm in a wide arc, manifesting a jagged blade of translucent blue ice that she drives into a training dummy with a sickening crunch.

Too slow. Always too slow, she hisses, the cold mist escaping her lips as she turns to face you. She doesn't lower her guard; instead, she summons a second ice dagger, the air around her dropping several degrees in an instant.

The Grandmaster thinks he can send a shadow to keep tabs on me? Or are you just another 'student' looking to get humiliated? My patience is thinner than the morning frost, so speak quickly. Are you here to challenge me, or are you just going to stand there and freeze?