Cut. Brake. Spin. Shake free.
From start to finish, Lance held his breath, turning all the anger and frustration into pure fuel. His eyes locked forward—his speed unleashed.
"Run, rookie! Run!"
Everything returned to its simplest, rawest, and most natural form. He didn't need toys, didn't need games. Just him and the field under the sun, sprinting with reckless joy—his chest filled with happiness and fire.
Light as a feather.
He spread his arms, wind slipping beneath them like a river. Faster. Just a little faster. If he pushed a bit more, he might take off and fly.
Childhood… it had always been this simple.
Whoosh. Whoosh.
Wind howled around him. The whole Arrowhead Stadium throbbed with each of his strides. One by one, the crowd stood up, unable to contain themselves.
25-yard line.
20-yard line.
15-yard line.
The white yard markers blurred in his wake.
And then—
Wendell appeared.
As the deep safety, Wendell was Baltimore's last line of defense. His first instinct was to lock in on Hill, bracing for a surprise deep pass from Mahomes.
But Mahomes had executed a flawlessly deceptive dual running back play—and this time, it was real. They'd gone for a ground attack. And now…
It was a crisis.
Wendell broke off from Hill, cutting in at top speed. No hesitation. He braced himself to stop Lance.
Step in. Hit.
It happened in a flash—no room to breathe.
A full-on collision. Head-on. Like a car crash.
And then—someone flew.
"Hrk!"
"WENDELL! Wendell just got blown away! Oh my God!"
Nance was stunned. Eyes wide. He couldn't believe it.
Lance—powered by speed and fury—knocked Wendell clean off his feet. Literally. Wendell flew like a kite with its string cut, flipping backwards through the air. The tackle he was sure he had made? It only managed to slow Lance for half a second.
Only half a second.
Then Lance kept going.
10-yard line. Right there.
"HUMPHREY!"
"Jesus Christ!"
"Humphrey hasn't given up! He's still chasing! He's closing in—he's reaching for Lance's shoulder!"
Humphrey was on fire. He refused to surrender—
That's what Lance had taught him: the game's not over until the final moment. You fight to the very end, every drop of energy spent.
Ahh—ahhh—AHHH!
Humphrey turned into a raging flame, using that half-second of pause from the collision to close the gap. His left hand grabbed Lance's shoulder.
But before he could pull—
Lance was moving again.
Instinct took over—Humphrey clutched at Lance's jersey. But his fingers couldn't grip tight enough. The two tangled up in a wild, chaotic grapple.
Humphrey lunged, body slamming into Lance. He staggered, ruining Lance's momentum. Their steps collided—but Lance still pushed forward.
10-yard line.
Still charging. Still breaking free. Lance suddenly slammed the brakes, trying to shake off the shadow on his back.
But Humphrey had locked onto Lance's jersey and refused to let go. He flung his weight ahead to block Lance's path completely.
Lance surged again, shoulder lowered, bulldozing forward.
5-yard line.
"Ugh—AHHH!"
Humphrey planted his feet, mustering every ounce of strength, bracing against Lance.
"AHHH—"
Lance did the same—feet pounding, digging into the turf. Like a raging bull, he stomped forward again and again.
Clash. Stalemate.
But only for a second. Then Lance exploded—his force shattered the balance.
Humphrey felt the power give way. Before he could react—
He was airborne.
Gravity lost its grip. A wave of red energy filled his vision.
AHHHH—AHHHH!
Lance held nothing back now.
One step. Two steps. Weight of a mountain.
Three. Four. Unstoppable.
End zone.
Glorious. Unrelenting.
Humphrey hit the turf like a meteor. He lay there, stunned, staring up at Lance in the end zone—standing tall, like a giant holding up the crimson sunset above Arrowhead.
Just like back at Bryant–Denny Stadium. Some things never change.
"Aahhh! GAME WINNER!"
"That's a walk-off touchdown!"
"Unbelievable! My God, unbelievable!"
"The Kansas City Chiefs have done it! Lance has done it! Unreal!"
"After fumbling and nearly costing the game, Lance clutched up—not only holding on to hope, but redeeming himself. In a fourth-and-one situation, they faked out Baltimore's entire defense with a dual-running-back setup. And then—"
"Then…"
"The world belonged to Lance."
"He stormed through, unchallenged, with a 47-yard rushing touchdown to end the game. The Chiefs win in overtime with a walk-off against the Baltimore Ravens!"
"Walk-off. A real walk-off!"
"God, that was INSANE!"
ROLL!
Felix stared at the field—his brain buzzed with static. Thoughts burned to ash. Only one thing remained—
"AAAHHHH!"
Fists pumped high.
"AAAAAAHHHH!"
Like a lunatic.
"AAAAAAAAAHHH!"
Touchdown! It was a touchdown! In overtime, on a fourth-and-one, Lance rushed 47 yards to win it all!
Gone. Minds blown. Total celebration.
Felix felt the whole of Arrowhead quake like a volcano. His vision was filled with roaring red—a sea of fire that devoured everything.
They'd won.
Not just a game—a war. A clash between playoff contenders. A coin-flip matchup. But this time, they didn't crumble at the end.
This time, they triumphed with an unstoppable final drive.
"AAAHHH!"
Felix had to celebrate. Had to lose his mind. He wanted to live in this moment forever.
"This is rare. Truly rare."
"The Baltimore Ravens played a hell of a game—strategic, tough, gritty. With just four minutes left, they still led by a touchdown. Harbaugh's squad showed their three-game win streak wasn't luck. They're real contenders for the playoffs."
"And now—thanks to this game—the Pittsburgh Steelers owe the Chiefs a thank you. Kansas City stopped the Ravens from closing the gap. The playoff race just opened up again."
"Whether Tomlin's happy about that… who knows."
"But the real highlight? The Kansas City Chiefs themselves."
"Worthy of praise. Worthy of respect. Worthy of hype. They created the opportunity and seized it—and in this high-stakes clash, they proved their toughness."
"AFC's #1 seed? It's not because they had an easy schedule."
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Powerstones?
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