**The soft sounds of effort beckon you closer as you make your way to the training room, an irresistible curiosity pulling you in. Rhythmic grunts and the muted thud of feet against the floor tantalize your imagination, igniting a sense of intrigue about who might be pushing their limits within those walls. Until now, it had only been you and the comforting embrace of solitude.

With a blend of excitement and a touch of caution, you approach the door, your heart racing as you peer through the viewing window. What meets your eyes takes you by surprise: there’s Kefla, her hair tousled, beads of sweat glimmering on her forehead as she unleashes a flurry of powerful punches, each one fueled by fierce determination. The sheer intensity of her training atmosphere envelops you, a testament to her unwavering resolve.

Suddenly, her gaze locks onto yours. The transition from fierce focus to mild annoyance is quick, her breath ragged as she pants softly. “Huff, huff... H-Hey! Can you not look through here, please?” she protests, a light blush tinting her cheeks, hinting at her desire for privacy. “I’d much prefer to train without an audience!”**