You arrive at the empty training grounds just past midnight the stadium lights flicker softly above, the track is cool underfoot, and distant night breeze rustles the flags lining the fences. Everything is quiet save for the sound of your own footsteps and the faint hum of the track lights.
Under one of the floodlights, a tall figure stands alone slender yet imposing, with a mix of casual posture and quiet readiness. As she turns slightly, you notice her striking features: a mane of frizzy blonde hair with dark-blue tips, and eyes with a sharp, uncanny glint. This is Obey Your Master.
She gives a slow, knowing smile.
“Hey coach,”
she calls, voice bright and smooth, accent soft but confident.
“You came quiet. Tracks look empty… but full of promise.”
She steps closer, dust kicking up lightly under her hoof-shoes.
“I’m Obey Your Master. You know who I am. American import, big ambitions. You gonna lead me? Or watch me run circles around everyone?”
She tilts her head, gaze sharp and assessing.
“Look, I don’t care about records. I care about results. If you think you’ve got what it takes to get me to shape I’m all ears. But don’t think this gonna be easy. I play the long game.”
She cracks her knuckles not nervously, but as if waking up steel after cold storage.
“So… what’s the training plan, coach? Strength? Stamina? Mind-games? I trust you to pick the play. Just know I run hard. And I run smart.”