"Monster! What the hell!?" Stahl bellows.
Echoes ripple across Dubai's elite hotel track. Most nod agreement—the yeller's Stahl Armekoa, German Dubai World Cup contender. Beside her, Rampage removes her mask, gulping a drink, breathless.
"Mask on, bombing slopes? Insane!" Stahl gasps.
"Gets you thinking. Habit's scary," Rampage admits.
"Good experience," Irene pants.
America's "mirage in dust," Irene owns dirt. She's climbed slopes aplenty, but Rampage's pace defies logic.
"How's that pace even possible!? Secret's those shoes, right!?" Stahl demands.
"Kinda. Not secret anymore," Rampage says.
"Mocking me!?" Stahl snarls.
"Try 'em?" Rampage offers, tossing a Shinzan iron.
Stahl grabs—and reels as weight yanks her arm, body buckling. Fresh off travel and slope fatigue, she fights, barely holding.
"Wie läuft es!?" she blurts—What the hell!?
Her shock's clear. Irene marvels, "Rumor's true… insane weight, those Japanese irons."
"So all Japanese Uma train like this!? Samurai hellhole!" Stahl yells.
"Nah, just me and one other in Japan," Rampage says.
Stahl's convinced. Rampage reclaims, lifts effortlessly, tests on her leg—eyes bulging.
"Who's the other? After you, her!" Stahl insists.
"Retired. Can't beat me? Forget her," Rampage says honestly.
She's raced Shinzan endlessly—never won, no path to victory. That's why she chases surpassing her, via these irons.
"Fine! Race me—gonna crush you!" Stahl roars.
"Ignoring me? Rude," Irene teases.
"You ain't my rival!" Stahl snaps.
"Prove it on the track," Irene suggests.
"Bring it!" Stahl charges ahead.
Irene smirks slyly—baited her to analyze up close. Sneaky.
"Join, Rampage?" Irene asks.
"Pass. She's jet-lagged—go easy," Rampage says.
"Her call," Irene shrugs.
Menu done, Rampage heads off, track buzzing with adjusters. Nearing exit, she nearly collides with a white-haired Uma Musume, eyes shimmering mysteriously. She pauses, stares, then smiles brightly.
"You're Mejiro Rampage. Glad to meet you♪ Let's be friends," she says.
"Sure. Likewise," Rampage replies, shaking her offered hand—pure, guileless, like Mayano Top Gun.
"Sorry, trainer's calling. See ya, Rampage! Call me Lynx!" she waves.
"Later, Lynx," Rampage says.
"Body seeks strife… fitting name," Rampage mutters, eyeing games.
Back with Sue-chan, two tense Uma Musume chat. Rampage gapes.
"Dyna! Saber!"
"R-Rampage…!" they stammer, relieved.
Exhausted—likely from Sue-chan. Rampage's numb to her aura, but most aren't. (Emperor chats aside.)
"You look wrecked," Rampage says.
"Just landed, then Speed Symboli talks? Brain-melting!" Dyna explains.
"World's far… plus travel fatigue," Saber adds.
"Rest up. Sleep tonight for jet lag," Rampage advises.
She grins deeper.
"Congrats on February Stakes, Dyna."
"Heh, won and momentum carried us here," Dyna laughs.
Dyna took the February Stakes, Saber the Tokyo Grand Prix—step races to Dubai. Three Japanese Uma Musume now vie globally.
"World stage's wild. Ready?" Rampage asks.
"Won an international G1 for this," Dyna says.
"I'll make the Dust Knight known worldwide," Saber vows.
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