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Lance could hardly believe it.
He was already a Champions League winner.
Why was the European Championship proving this difficult?
Looking at Belgium's lineup, they were unquestionably one of Europe's elite teams.
Courtois
Meunier, Kompany, Vermaelen, Jan Vertonghen
Witsel, Marouane Fellaini
De Bruyne, Lance, Hazard
Lukaku
And that wasn't even counting the talent on the bench.
Radja Nainggolan.
Yannick Carrasco.
Dries Mertens.
And that damn Benteke.
With a squad packed full of stars, how were they struggling against a Sweden side built almost entirely around Zlatan Ibrahimović?
To be fair, Sweden were a difficult opponent.
Their defense was disciplined and organized, while every attack flowed through Ibrahimović.
The first half had gone exactly according to Belgium's plans.
After Lance was fouled outside the penalty area, he stepped up and unleashed a Crescent Blade Free Kick.
The ball curled brilliantly into the net.
1-0.
His first goal of the European Championship.
A perfect start.
With the lead secured, Belgium should have been comfortable.
They didn't need to rush.
They could control possession and gradually finish the match.
Instead, their attack constantly felt awkward.
Hazard needed the ball.
De Bruyne needed the ball.
Lance needed the ball.
Three world-class attackers all preferred operating as focal points.
As a result, Belgium's offense always seemed to be missing one crucial piece.
Then Ibrahimović exploded.
In the 56th minute, he received possession outside the penalty area and unleashed a thunderous strike.
1-1.
The Swedish superstar dragged his team level.
Five minutes later, Sweden won a corner.
The delivery flew into the box.
Ibrahimović suddenly twisted his body and improvised a stunning scorpion-kick finish.
1-2.
A brace.
The Swedish supporters erupted.
After scoring, Ibrahimović deliberately ran toward Lance.
"Lance, how was that goal?"
"Get lost."
Lance waved him away impatiently.
If anyone else had spoken to him like that, Ibrahimović might have exploded.
But toward Lance, the famously arrogant striker showed unusual respect.
He simply laughed and jogged away.
Sweden protected their 2-1 lead all the way into the eighty-eighth minute.
The commentators were becoming increasingly pessimistic.
"There isn't much time remaining."
"Belgium's Golden Generation has suffered a major setback in their opening match."
"Lance, Hazard, and De Bruyne have been unable to unleash their full power together."
"After Lukaku was substituted, Benteke also wasted several excellent opportunities created by Lance and De Bruyne."
The guest commentator was even more direct.
"If I were Lance, I'd stop looking for teammates and just shoot everything myself."
After all, this was the same player who had scored five consecutive goals in a Champions League Final.
Compared to that miracle, a one-goal deficit was nothing.
As stoppage time began, Swedish supporters were already celebrating.
Only Ibrahimović remained serious.
"Stay focused!"
"Mark him!"
Nobody understood Lance's danger better than he did.
Ibrahimović feared no one.
But he refused to underestimate Lance.
On Belgium's sideline, Marc Wilmots was shouting instructions.
"Lance!"
"Push higher!"
"Get into the box!"
The tactical adjustment was simple.
Belgium abandoned patience.
For the final minutes, they switched to a 4-4-2.
Lance moved up front beside Benteke.
Benteke's job was straightforward.
Win headers.
Occupy defenders.
Create chaos.
The finishing responsibility belonged to Lance.
It was a desperate gamble.
Unexpectedly, it became Belgium's best attacking setup all night.
"In the dying moments, Belgium has stopped forcing combinations through the middle."
"They're sending balls directly into the box."
"Hazard recycles possession..."
"He finds De Bruyne on the right flank."
"De Bruyne takes a touch..."
"He crosses!"
The delivery was magnificent.
A curling ball that completely bypassed the defensive line and dropped toward the far post.
The Swedish defenders remained focused on Lance.
Or at least they thought they were.
Because Lance wasn't in the penalty area.
He was standing near the top of the box moments earlier.
No danger.
No problem.
Then a shadow appeared.
A blue figure exploded into the air.
Like Hinata Shōyō soaring for a quick attack in Haikyuu!!, he arrived seemingly from nowhere.
"LANCE!!!"
Wait.
A header?
The Swedish defenders froze.
The Belgian bench froze.
Even Wilmots froze.
Since when did Lance score headers?
Nobody had prepared for this.
Nobody expected it.
A grin appeared on Lance's face.
"I wanted to keep this as a secret weapon."
"But I guess I'll reveal it now."
"I can score headers too."
Combining Spatial Perception, All-Round Striker Positioning, and elite aerial instincts, Lance perfectly judged the flight of the ball.
Then he attacked it with every ounce of power in his body.
A violent header.
A lion shaking its mane.
The ball became a missile.
It screamed into the net.
GOAL!
The stadium exploded.
Commentators around the world erupted.
Belgian supporters lost their minds.
"LAAAAAANCE!!!"
"Holy crap! God Lance!"
"He can score headers too?!"
"He never even used this in the Champions League Final!"
"What a goal!"
For the first time, football fans witnessed Lance's aerial ability.
The power.
The timing.
The aggression.
Everything was world-class.
"Lance scores again!"
"A brace!"
"When Belgium desperately needed a hero, Lance delivered with a last-second equalizer!"
The commentators could barely contain themselves.
Many neutral fans didn't particularly care about Belgium.
But they all wanted to see Lance continue his journey.
His performances were simply too entertaining.
The final whistle arrived shortly afterward.
Belgium 2.
Sweden 2.
The points were shared.
Belgium escaped defeat, but it hardly felt like a victory.
After the first round of matches, Belgium and Sweden were tied in the standings.
Leading the group was Italy.
They had comfortably defeated Ireland 2-0.
That reality created an obvious problem.
Belgium now needed a result against Italy.
A draw would be dangerous.
A loss could be catastrophic.
If Sweden defeated Ireland afterward, Italy and Sweden could advance together.
Belgium's star-studded Golden Generation might be eliminated in the group stage.
That would be an unimaginable disaster.
Lance could only smile bitterly.
He had originally viewed this tournament as a relatively relaxed challenge.
With players like Hazard and De Bruyne around him, he assumed Belgium would cruise through the group.
Reality proved otherwise.
Belgium was still searching for chemistry.
Too many personnel changes.
Too little understanding.
Compared to Atlético Madrid, their coordination wasn't even close.
If his teammates had been Atlético's players, Lance was confident he could have turned the match into a 3-2 victory.
Unfortunately, football didn't work that way.
After the match, he met Ibrahimović near midfield.
The Swedish captain extended his hand.
"Good game."
"That header was impressive."
Despite his controversial reputation, Lance actually found Ibrahimović refreshingly genuine.
The Swedish star grinned.
"Want to exchange jerseys?"
"Sure."
"I, Lord Zlatan, officially approve of you."
Lance nearly rolled his eyes.
Even so, he completed the jersey swap.
Back at his Madrid mansion, another valuable match-worn shirt would soon join his collection.
Ronaldinho.
Messi.
Cristiano Ronaldo.
Wayne Rooney.
Arjen Robben.
Franck Ribéry.
Luka Modrić.
Now Zlatan Ibrahimović.
The collection alone was worth a small fortune.
But none of that mattered right now.
The draw against Sweden had changed everything.
Belgium's next match was no longer important.
It was survival.
Belgium versus Italy.
The marquee showdown of the European Championship group stage.
A true do-or-die battle.