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"Holy shit! They're all familiar faces."
July 3, 2016.
Bordeaux, France.
Matmut Atlantique Stadium.
The scorching summer sun beat down on the pitch.
As Lance stepped onto the grass, preparing to familiarize himself with the field conditions, De Bruyne's exclamation interrupted his thoughts.
Turning his head, Lance immediately understood why.
The German national team had arrived as well.
Both sides were using their allotted training time to adapt to the stadium before the quarterfinal.
The flags of Belgium and Germany shared similar colors.
Belgium also had a sizable German-speaking population, and the two countries were culturally close.
As a result, there were plenty of familiar faces between the two squads.
While others drifted off to greet old acquaintances, Thomas Müller walked directly toward Lance with a grin.
Joshua Kimmich and Antonio Rüdiger followed behind him.
Müller had been one of Lance's closest friends during his Bayern Munich days.
As for Kimmich and Rüdiger, they had been teammates during Lance's season at Bayer Leverkusen.
Although they had only spent one year together, that season had been unforgettable.
A Bundesliga and DFB-Pokal double.
A run to the Champions League Final.
The memories were enough to last a lifetime.
The group quickly fell into easy conversation.
"Not bad, Lance. You're a huge star now."
Müller grinned and lightly punched him on the shoulder.
His personality hadn't changed at all.
Everyone liked him.
"Cut it out."
"I'm serious."
Müller immediately bowed theatrically.
"Greetings, Your Majesty."
The nickname "King Lance" had already spread throughout Germany after his exploits at Bayer Leverkusen and Atlético Madrid.
"You idiot."
Laughing, Lance returned the punch.
Müller laughed as well, but he genuinely meant what he said.
Even now, he still found Lance's rise unbelievable.
Three years.
That was all it had taken.
Three years to go from an obscure youth player to a superstar capable of surpassing Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo.
If someone had told him that years ago, he never would have believed it.
Football depended on talent.
The gap between elite players and ordinary stars was enormous.
Most players spent their entire careers unable to touch the level occupied by Messi and Ronaldo.
Yet Lance had climbed there with shocking speed.
Only those who knew him personally understood how monstrous he truly was.
His talent alone was frightening.
His work ethic was even more terrifying.
Müller sometimes felt as though a kid from next door had disappeared for three years and returned as the richest man in the world.
"How have you guys been?"
Lance quickly changed the topic and looked toward Kimmich and Rüdiger.
Kimmich had moved to Bayern Munich.
Rüdiger had joined Chelsea.
Everyone had their own path now.
"Pretty good."
"Though honestly, I still miss those days at Leverkusen."
Unlike Müller, Kimmich seemed slightly restrained.
Back then, he had viewed Lance as someone on the same level.
Someone he could catch through hard work.
Now?
Lance was a treble winner.
A global superstar.
The man who had scored four goals in a Champions League Final and completed one of the greatest comebacks in football history.
Meanwhile, Kimmich was still just a rising Bundesliga talent.
The gap between them had become enormous.
Lance didn't care about that.
Kimmich did.
Fortunately, Rüdiger remained exactly the same.
The towering defender never worried about things like status.
A brother was a brother.
"To be honest, Kevin has tortured me so many times in the Premier League that I'm sick of it."
"You just need more training."
De Bruyne's deadpan response immediately made everyone burst out laughing.
"Damn it!"
Rüdiger looked completely defeated.
Unfortunately, friendship was friendship.
Tomorrow they would be enemies.
Only one team could reach the semifinals.
There wasn't much point catching up for too long.
After agreeing to meet for drinks after the tournament, the players gradually returned to their respective groups.
Watching them leave, De Bruyne suddenly sighed.
"Sometimes I really miss last season."
"Yeah."
Lance nodded.
"It was a special year."
Before Bayer Leverkusen's rise, most of them had been overlooked players.
Benchwarmers.
Rotation pieces.
Young prospects.
Then they spent a season fighting together.
One magical season.
Afterward, everyone's value skyrocketed.
Everyone became a core player for club or country.
Those memories were naturally difficult to forget.
"So tomorrow, don't hold back."
De Bruyne clenched his fist.
"Of course not."
"Beating them at full strength is the greatest respect we can give our brothers."
Compared to club football, the European Championship schedule felt brutal.
Less than five days had passed since Belgium defeated Spain.
Now another battle was already waiting.
One high-intensity match after another.
At this stage, it was no longer just a test of physical fitness.
It was a test of willpower.
The next day.
Bordeaux.
Inside the player tunnel.
The same players who had been chatting and laughing yesterday now stood on opposite sides.
No one spoke.
Everyone stared straight ahead.
The atmosphere was tense.
"Come on, boys."
Vincent Kompany took the opportunity to encourage his teammates.
Although his injury wasn't severe, he still needed time to recover and was effectively ruled out for the remainder of Euro 2016.
All he could do was place his hopes in his teammates.
Especially Lance.
"Lance."
"It's up to you."
"Don't worry, Captain."
Kompany nodded.
Without another word, he turned and left the tunnel.
Moments later, both teams stepped onto the field.
The roar of the crowd hit instantly.
"Lance!"
"Ahhh! God Lance!"
"God Lance!"
Besides Belgian supporters, German fans, and neutral French spectators, there were countless black-haired, yellow-skinned supporters in the stands.
Many had traveled all the way from China specifically to support him.
They waved red flags and shouted his name at the top of their lungs.
Lance could tell at a glance.
Some were overseas students.
Some were businesspeople living abroad.
Others had crossed half the world just to watch him play.
"Thank you!"
"Thank you, everyone!"
He waved toward the stands.
The response was another explosion of cheers.
Even the commentator couldn't help sighing.
"This is Lance's popularity."
"He is unquestionably the biggest star in world football today."
With looks that rivaled Beckham's and footballing ability that surpassed Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo, it was impossible not to become a global phenomenon.
Beep!
The match began.
Germany won the toss and kicked off.
Belgium immediately dropped into their familiar 4-2-3-1 shape.
They were prepared to defend first and strike on the counterattack.
Around 2016, low-block defending combined with rapid transitions had become one of football's most effective systems.
Real Madrid in the original timeline.
Atlético Madrid in the current one.
Both had proven its value.
Belgium's squad was perfectly suited for it.
Lance.
Hazard.
De Bruyne.
The trio was tailor-made for devastating counterattacks.
Germany, meanwhile, looked more like Spain.
Patient possession.
Short passing.
Methodically circulating the ball around the attacking third.
As the match progressed, however, Lance began noticing something strange.
"Why..."
"They're not attacking?"
"You're right."
Even Lukaku noticed it.
Germany looked surprisingly cautious.
This didn't resemble the invincible German Panzer that had lifted the World Cup two years earlier.
Lance's lips curled into a dangerous smile.
"Who cares?"
"If they won't attack..."
"Then we will."
Let this match become the turning point.
The moment Germany's era began to decline.
"Sorry, German Panzer."
Lance stared toward the German half.
"I'll be the one to send you on your way."