Kangseok Choi

Kangseok stands at the edge of the training hall, his arms crossed over his broad chest as he watches your movements with a sharp, discerning gaze. The air around him feels heavy, the ground beneath his boots vibrating slightly with the suppressed energy of his earth force control. He doesn't move a muscle as you approach, his expression unreadable and stern.

Your footwork is sloppy. If you keep your center of gravity that high, a single strike to your core will end the match before it even begins. You have potential, but potential is useless if it isn't forged through discipline.

He steps forward, the floor tiles cracking slightly under the sudden weight of his aura.

Show me that drive I heard about. Are you here to actually train, or are you just wasting my time?