When facing power and impact, one can meet it head-on, redirect the force, use it to their advantage, or counter it with finesse—there's more than one way.
All roads lead to Rome.
At this moment, Lance chose—
Floating Steps.
He paused, waiting calmly, watching Campbell rush past. Lance even had time to flash a smile and greet him.
Was this really happening? Was this normal?
Campbell, his face filled with shock and panic, tried desperately to stop himself but had no control. He could only watch as Lance slipped through his fingertips, moving with the grace of a waltz.
Without exerting any force, Lance had already glided past the line of scrimmage.
Next, he saw Jack frozen in place, completely out of sync with his body. His abrupt stops and changes in direction had thrown Jack's mind and movements into chaos. Though Jack's brain had caught up, ready to react, his body lagged behind—he stood stiffly like a mummy, paralyzed.
What… what just happened?
Jack couldn't believe what he was witnessing.
Then—
Lance took off.
He cut left—Jack's right—trying to slip through a gap in the defense. With the linebackers and safeties all converging on Hill, the middle of the field was left wide open, a narrow window of opportunity.
Jack instantly sensed the danger: Damn, damn, damn!
Finally!
His body responded. Jack moved right, but just as he took off, Lance's image blurred—splitting, overlapping, then shifting.
Jack's mind filled with question marks.
He was a quarter of a second too slow in realizing—
Oh.
Lance had changed direction.
Wait… what?!
Jack's brain froze. By the time he grasped what had happened, Lance had already vanished past his left shoulder, disappearing before Jack could even blink.
Catch up! Catch up!
Jack's brain screamed, but his body refused to move. The repeated sudden shifts had left his coordination in shambles—he no longer knew what he was even trying to do.
He stood there, stunned.
Meanwhile, Kelce moved in to block but quickly noticed Jack wasn't following. Kelce hesitated—what's going on?
Their eyes met for a split second, and Kelce swore he saw tears in Jack's eyes.
But there was no time for sympathy. Kelce turned and rushed forward—
Like a roaring tidal wave.
"Hill!"
"Kelce!"
"Lance!"
"Wow! After all that dazzling footwork, Smith finally delivers the ball into Lance's hands—the Jaguars' defense is completely out of position!"
Everything happened so fast that Nantz barely had time to describe it—just listing names as they unfolded.
"Campbell!"
"Jack!"
"The third-down conversion is complete, but Lance isn't stopping!"
"Ramsey!"
"Lance and Ramsey go head-to-head! Ramsey uses his elite instincts to take position—Lance can't shake free! Smart play by Ramsey, focusing on disrupting Lance's ball control, forcing him to protect the ball instead!"
"But Ramsey still can't stop Lance from advancing!"
"Fifteen-yard line!"
"Ten-yard line!"
"Red zone!"
"Gipson! Church! The Jaguars' safeties are closing in!"
"The Chiefs' chaotic but explosive play design created space for this advance, but it also allowed Jacksonville's secondary time to adjust—Gipson and Church have locked onto Lance!"
"Wow!"
"Lance! One versus three!"
"It's happening again!"
"Five-yard line!"
"But this time, the Jaguars finally bring enough force! They stop Lance at the five—no touchdown this time!"
"However…"
"This isn't a defensive success."
"Lance just gained seventeen yards on the ground. He's completely unstoppable—the Jaguars' defense is getting exposed again."
This kind of breakdown doesn't happen often in the regular season. But in a crucial playoff game? It's a disaster.
"Against Lance, the league's rushing yards and rushing touchdown leader this season, these mistakes are fatal. He won't let them slide."
"Not only have the Chiefs converted on third down, but they're now at the five-yard line. Despite Jacksonville's increased defensive intensity in the second half, they're still losing ground."
"Marrone needs a solution."
In truth, Jacksonville's all-or-nothing approach had given them an edge in the red zone, where they finally showed elite-level defense.
A strong hit forced Smith to throw the ball out of bounds. A double-team takedown stopped Lance's run.
Before they could catch their breath, the Jaguars had already forced Kansas City into a third-and-goal situation.
At that moment, far away in Kansas City—
Berry was watching. James White sat beside him.
Berry, feeling White's gaze, muttered to himself, "No problem. Trust the guys. No problem."
But despite his words, his body told the truth—
His hands were clenched tightly, veins bulging, eyes locked on the screen, using all his strength to hold himself back.
White knew—Berry wanted to be out there, battling with his teammates.
Instinctively, White turned to the screen, feeling the pulse of the game.
And Berry's instincts were right.
The Chiefs were in trouble in the red zone, just inches away from getting shut down. This team had always been criticized for collapsing in clutch moments.
But not this season.
Once again, they showed grit and courage, executing a perfect play.
At the snap, Lance sprinted out of the slot. Kelce blocked, giving him space. Number 23 cut into the end zone, ready to receive.
Meanwhile, Smith felt immediate pressure—Jacksonville only sent a five-man rush, but they broke through the pocket.
Smith didn't hesitate. He scrambled right, throwing on the run.
Though he was a half-second slow, it didn't matter. This was a short five-yard throw—he didn't need to wind up. He still got it off before Jackson could sack him—
Straight into the end zone.
Lance.
Instantly, Gipson and Ramsey closed in.
They hadn't forgotten what happened earlier—how Lance beat them both for a touchdown in the first half.
This time, they weren't taking chances. They smothered him completely.
On TV screens across bars in Kansas City, fans screamed for a flag.
But right in front of the end zone chaos, another figure emerged—
Unmarked. Uncontested. Free to jump.
He rose effortlessly, grabbing the pass and tucking it into his chest.
Landed. Turned.
Standing like the Statue of Liberty, holding the ball high.
It was… Kelce.
Touchdown?
Yes.
Touchdown.
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Powerstones?
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