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"LAAAAAANCE--"
"Goooooooal!!!"
The roar spread across Spain and the European continent via Spanish National Television and Movistar+.
In the slow-motion replay, Lance's Crescent Blade once again showed its power. Like a flash of steel in the night, it appeared and vanished. Levante's wall, which had held firm for 80 minutes, was finally broken by Lance's kick.
1-2.
"It's Lance again!"
"His record of scoring after coming on as a substitute continues!"
The commentary guest for Spanish National Television, former Real Madrid captain Hierro, was stunned.
"This young man is truly incredible. He's practically the God of Victory!"
"He has already tied Messi's record of 50 goals! We thought this record was unbreakable, but this young player is on the verge of breaking it in his first La Liga season!"
Lance's Crescent Blade free kick helped Atlético Madrid take the lead again, securing the away victory. Hierro reached for a line from a Spanish religious song, calling Lance "Dios de la victoria" — the God of Victory.
Coincidentally, the third version of the "Song of Lance" rang out from the Atlético Madrid stands at that very moment. Adapted from "Deus de Vitoria" by Brazilian singer Gilza.
"My God is the God of Strength, my God is the God of Victory."
"He is the mysterious young man."
"Lu Lu Lu—"
"Glory belongs to Atlético! Glory belongs to the mighty God!"
Where he had once been "King Lance," he had now ascended to "God Lance."
Lance had found that the most effective weapon in his arsenal was not the Nagi Seishiro muscle memory, but the muscle memory integrated with the David Beckham template. He was fouled often while dribbling in the attacking third, and close-range free kicks in that zone were difficult to get past the wall. Not anymore. The Crescent Blade skill had given Lance and Atlético Madrid a weapon that rivaled the efficiency of a penalty kick. If opponents dared to foul in dangerous areas again, they would have to weigh the consequences.
La Liga Round 37 ended 1-2. Levante narrowly lost at home, and Lance, coming off the bench, once again delivered 3 points for the team.
Over at Camp Nou, the home locker room was full of wails. Anyone who didn't know better would have thought Barcelona had just lost. In reality, they had crushed Espanyol 7-0. If Lance had seen it, he'd have wanted to get in their faces: you won the game and you're not even smiling. Do you not like to smile?
...
"I can't go to the Champions League Final to cheer for you either."
Chloe's voice message sounded very low, carrying a quiet guilt about not being able to be there for Lance.
In the previous two seasons, she had always watched him live, making it to every important match. But university pressure had turned out to be even greater than high school.
"It's okay. I know you're supporting me, and that's enough."
"Wuwuwu, you're so good."
Chloe's eyes welled up. Lance instinctively wanted to reach out and wipe them away, but there was only a phone screen between them.
In a way, Chloe was the first fan who had truly supported him since his time at Bayer Leverkusen. When he couldn't get an opportunity there, she was the one who asked for his autograph and sent him words of encouragement. Without that, even with the system, it would have taken him longer to find the confidence of a superstar on the field.
"Oh, by the way, why did you choose those two majors? I thought you'd go into something fashion-related."
Back in high school, Chloe had already been a locally well-known model, appearing in print advertisements across Cologne. The path she'd chosen, sports industry, was the last thing Lance would have imagined. Did she really like football that much?
Chloe wiped her tears and broke into a rare, shy smile.
"I won't tell you. You'll find out."
"A riddler, huh."
Lance didn't push it. His mind was already fixed on the three titles ahead.
The League title in a week, on May 14th. Then May 21st, the Copa del Rey Final against Barcelona. Then May 29th, the Champions League Final against Real Madrid.
In the La Liga standings, Barcelona were still 2 points behind. Theoretically, if Atlético Madrid lost and Barcelona won, Barcelona would be champions. If Atlético drew and Barcelona won, the two clubs would be level on points, but Barcelona's goals scored and goal difference were both higher, which meant Barcelona would still take the title on those tiebreakers.
The La Liga title race would go all the way to the final round. Atlético had to win to be champions.
The Copa del Rey Final and Champions League Final went without saying. Both were single-elimination. Win a whole season and lose these three matches at the end, and the entire year would be for nothing.
Chloe had an important project report to finish, tied to her graduation credits. Lance had three major tests of his own. Neither of them had any room to lose.
"Then let's both work hard!"
The girl smiled sweetly, eyes curving into crescents, and extended her small fist toward the camera.
Lance extended his, and they made a promise across the distance.
After hanging up, Chloe let out a long breath, cheeks flushed. She turned her head and found Laila, black-rimmed glasses and all, leaning in close with a look of pure gossip.
"You scared me!"
"How far have you two gone? Did you do 'that'?"
"No! We haven't even made it official yet."
Chloe wished she could bury herself in the quilt. Even though they were in college now, everyone around them seemed to fall in love like it was nothing. The thought made her feel like a shy little kid all over again.
"Tsk tsk tsk." Laila kept shaking her head.
"No, ma'am. If anyone else had a boyfriend that handsome, they'd have been pregnant three times already. Is it him or is it you?"
"Don't say that, we both have things to focus on." Chloe raised her fist in protest.
"You never let me see his face. What exactly does he do in Spain? He looks like he could be related to Lance or something. What, does he play football too? Let me tell you, football players are fine for a fling, but they're total playboys. Don't get too involved."
Laila dispensed this advice with the authority of someone deeply experienced.
She had made the connection to Lance, but she could never have imagined it actually was Lance. How could it be? Lance was on the same level as Cristiano Ronaldo and Messi. Even a player of Benzema's caliber couldn't compare. How could someone like that be seeing an ordinary person? Chloe was beautiful, sure, like someone out of an anime, but she wasn't a celebrity or a supermodel. The gap was too wide.
"..." Chloe couldn't be bothered explaining.
If Laila ever found out her "good friend" was Lance, she would absolutely lose her mind. Just picturing that scene made Chloe a little jealous.
"By the way, didn't you take time off for the Champions League Final? Aren't you going to watch with your boyfriend?"
"No. I'm going to surprise him."
"Now that's the spirit. Go get him!"
Laila nodded with the satisfied expression of a teacher whose student had finally grasped the lesson. Chloe went red all over again, and the two of them dissolved into playful wrestling.
...
Back at the Atlético Madrid training base, Lance finished his video call with Chloe and felt the energy carry him through the entire training session. Even for her sake, he couldn't afford to slip up. These three matches, the last and most important of the season. He had to win all of them.