"Damn you bastard, you did it on purpose, you damn well did it on purpose!"
"I'll kill you!"
"Get out of here!"
"You dirty scum, all you know are cheap tricks."
"If you can't take the loss, go home and take care of the kids!"
The stench of blood filled the air.
Seeing Lance get flipped violently, the Chiefs players lost all reason. Eyes bloodshot, they surged forward, surrounding Mosley, while the Ravens players rushed in as well—the scene was utter chaos, on the verge of spiraling out of control.
Arrowhead Stadium was stunned.
Felix Gray couldn't believe his eyes, clutching his wheelchair's armrests so tightly that his whole body trembled slightly, heart racing, teeth clenched—
Stand up. Lance, stand up!
This scene was too brutal, too bloody, too shocking.
Finally snapping out of their daze, the Arrowhead crowd could no longer hold back—overwhelming jeers and curses rained down on the Ravens.
Amidst the commotion, a figure pushed through the crowd, pulling Kelce and Mosley apart.
"Shut up!"
"Shut up! Everyone shut up!"
Kelce, panting heavily, calmed himself just enough to see it was Humphrey standing before him. He was about to lash out again, but Humphrey roared back.
"Calm down! The only thing that matters right now is Lance!"
Kelce paused, biting back his rage. Humphrey, though, didn't even look at him anymore—he turned to Mosley, who was still arguing angrily.
"Back off!"
"Immediately! Right now! Are you out of your mind? Do you even realize the stupid thing you just did? And you're still yapping? Shut your damn mouth—you're dragging the entire intelligence of Kansas City down by two levels!"
Mosley froze, completely stunned—
He was a star player, a defensive cornerstone. Who the hell was Humphrey—a mere second-year player—to point a finger in his face?
Not just Mosley—even Suggs and the others were shocked speechless. They simply hadn't expected this.
But Humphrey wasn't done.
Seeing Mosley stand there dumbfounded, rage burned bright in Humphrey's eyes. He even stepped forward, locking his gaze on Mosley.
"For God's sake, you better pray Lance is okay—because you have no idea who you've pissed off."
Word by word, each filled with fury.
Humphrey was truly angry.
He knew Mosley was someone you didn't want to mess with—but life's like that. When it's time to stand up, you can't cower—or what's the point?
He and Lance had shared the Crimson Tide banner once—they would always share it. He'd been looking forward to facing Lance fair and square, and Mosley ruined it with a cheap shot.
Even just thinking about that terrible scene made Humphrey furious, but he didn't regret what he'd done.
Ignoring Mosley, Humphrey turned to face the growing horde of Chiefs players.
Behind him, Suggs finally snapped out of it and grabbed Mosley's chest, patting him.
"Dude, look around you."
Mosley froze, looking up—and saw the entire crowd enraged. A crimson tide of fury engulfed Arrowhead Stadium, turning it into an inferno.
Mosley swallowed hard, neck shrinking—his rage evaporated completely.
Ahead, Chiefs players gathered in layer upon layer—even defensive players couldn't hold back and rushed onto the field.
When Humphrey turned, he was standing at the very edge of the circle. He caught a glimpse of Burns' anxious face. "Coach," Humphrey called out.
Burns glanced at Humphrey but said nothing, just took a deep breath and patted his shoulder gently, signaling him to stay calm.
"Move aside! Clear some space! We need air!"
The Chiefs team doctor shouted, and Kelce and Mahomes immediately got busy—arms outstretched, pushing players back to clear a path.
Darkness—just for a moment. Like a temporary blackout.
In the blink of an eye, the connection was restored—his mind clear again.
Lance opened his eyes to a crowd of anxious faces. Heavy, somber atmosphere. He almost wanted to crack a joke, lighten the mood.
But before he could speak, the team doctor's voice snapped him to attention.
"Lance, do you feel pain anywhere? Any dizziness or nausea?"
A beat late, Lance realized—he'd just been wiped out. He took a deep breath and sat up straight, not rushing to answer, but first turning his head, shaking his arms, checking himself—
Nothing wrong.
Lance exhaled gently. Looks like that 40% injury reduction card he used in the offseason had come through.
At least for now, he felt no discomfort. And the system hadn't sent any alerts or warnings.
That was good.
But he still turned to the doctor and told the truth. "No pain or discomfort. No dizziness. But I think I blacked out for a second."
He paused, then half-joked, "Maybe three seconds."
The doctor hesitated—half laughing, half not. But at least Lance's state of mind seemed fine.
"We need to do a concussion test."
Without delay, the doctor ran a quick test right there. When he concluded that Lance seemed okay, Lance finally stood up.
Mahomes' heart was in his throat—he stared at Lance, wanting to ask how he was but not knowing how.
Not just Mahomes—Kelce, Hill, Jones, Fowler—all of them the same. Their eyes full of worry and fear.
And Humphrey too.
At that moment, Lance fully understood what it meant to be captain. It wasn't just about playing—it was about carrying the team's spirit and weight.
Lance froze slightly, warmth filling his chest, and a smile curved his lips. "Don't look at me like that—Brittany's gonna get the wrong idea."
A little joke—but today, it didn't land.
Mahomes didn't laugh. Neither did Kelce or any of the others.
Lance sighed. "Relax, I'm fine. The game isn't over—what are you all standing here for? Where did we get to? It's second down next, right?"
With that, Kelce let out a long breath. "The rookie's fine."
Finally—it was certain.
Lance didn't linger. Accompanied by the team doctor, he left the huddle. Even though the on-field tests showed no issues, he still needed to head to the medical tent for a thorough checkup—
Clap, clap clap.
Clap, clap clap.
Seeing this—no stretcher, no one helping him up, just Lance standing under his own power and walking away—the crowd at Arrowhead could finally breathe again. Applause rose from every corner of the stadium, swelling rapidly until it engulfed the entire field.
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Powerstones?
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