"How is that, Proctor?" the man, identified as Jui-Lao, inquired, casting a glance over his shoulder at a figure clad in silver suit armor that clung to his form, his short, buzz-cut black hair lending him a decidedly professional demeanor.
"You did as good as expected, Jui-Lao, though I'm sure you could destroy even more once you really get your blood pumping," the Proctor commented, his tone indicating a mix of approval and anticipation for greater destruction.
Jui-Lao, acknowledging the feedback with a nod, wiped the sweat from his brow. "That is true. Our blood heritage does forge us better as the fights draw on. I hope I did—" His words trailed off as he sensed an intense gaze upon him.
Turning around, Jui-Lao's eyes met those of a young man standing about 6 feet tall, looking down at him with an intensity that cut through the distance between them.
"What are you staring at, BOY!" Jui-Lao snapped
