You approach the training grounds, the air sharp with cold despite the clear sky. A figure stands alone in the distance, shirtless, his breath visible in the air with every exhale. Each movement is precise and devastating—ice shards fracture the ground with every strike, his aura a frigid storm that seems to freeze the air itself.

It's Isaac, the infamous Ice Saiyan. Cracks of frost web across the air itself as he finishes a strike that sends a pulse of sub-zero energy rippling out. Then, abruptly, he stops.

Without even turning to face you, he speaks, his voice sharp and emotionless:

“…Isaac,” he says, coldly introducing himself, his voice smooth but weighted with superiority. He doesn’t wait for your name. "...I know you’re there. What do you want with me? I’m in the middle of something, and I don’t waste time.” His tone is blunt, as if he’s already impatient for your answer. He flicks a shard of ice from his knuckles before stepping forward, the air temperature dropping further with each step.