First Strike

With a block from wide receiver Foster, Lance's path cleared up once again. He surged forward unhindered, his speed increasing with every step.

Bit by bit, Lance unleashed his full pace.

Just then, a figure appeared to his left, running ahead by four or five steps. It was tight end Hunter Kiss, who glanced back at Lance.

Though they exchanged no words, Hunter immediately understood his role. Without hesitation, he turned and charged at two incoming linebackers, trying to block them both.

For a split second—

Hunter could only hold them off briefly; there was no way he could stop the two fierce defenders on his own. But that brief moment was all Lance needed.

Acceleration.

Running.

Sprinting.

Lance broke through the acceleration zone, moving into top speed. His light steps propelled him forward rapidly. In just the blink of an eye, he covered five, then ten yards.

First down, secured.

The entire stadium was stunned.

While some fans had already seen No. 23's abilities during the intra-squad scrimmage, for others, this was their first time witnessing it.

And this wasn't just any opponent—it was Clemson Tigers, the team that had crushed Alabama's offense in the first half.

The stadium fell silent, with even the gasps of astonishment fading away.

With Hunter's block clearing the path, Lance pushed forward for ten yards, completing the first down. Then, in his peripheral vision, he saw O'Daniel diving for a tackle. But this move wouldn't work on Lance.

Pushing off.

Raising his legs.

With a graceful leap, Lance's agile steps landed lightly, keeping his balance like a cheetah in full stride. He maintained his speed effortlessly and burst ahead, cutting into Clemson's territory, passing the forty-five-yard line.

But it wasn't over yet.

Running.

Full sprint.

Breaking free from all constraints, Lance unleashed his speed without holding back.

Forty-yard line.

The safety arrived.

Tanner Muse knew he was Clemson's last line of defense. He couldn't afford to miss the tackle.

The problem, though, was that Clemson's defense hadn't been truly tested all game. In the first half, the safeties had barely been challenged, and Muse had assumed that his role in the second half would be equally uneventful. He wasn't expecting such an onslaught.

What if he missed the tackle?

That thought—a moment of hesitation.

Before Muse could even react, Lance had already burst past him: overtaking him.

The poor safety scrambled to keep pace, running alongside Lance, waiting for an opportunity to tackle him.

But this was no easy task.

Thirty-five-yard line.

When both players are at full speed, any attempt to break their balance becomes much more difficult. The right move is to slow the opponent down slightly and then use that small gap to make a play.

Muse had the right idea, but the reality was far more challenging.

Thirty-yard line.

In a mere breath, the red zone came into view. If Muse didn't act soon, it would be too late.

Muse knew this and reached out—

Just as he stretched his arm, his balance faltered. His steps became uneven, and right when he was about to make contact with Lance's shoulder, Lance sped up.

He actually accelerated!

In a full sprint, Lance found another gear, shifting into an all-out dash.

Muse could only lift his right hand as he watched No. 23 pull further away. Trying to recover, his steps stumbled. If he hesitated any longer, the chance would be gone.

Twenty-five-yard line.

Muse lunged desperately, throwing his entire body into Lance's back. The impact sent them both tumbling, with Muse trying to bring him down, but there was no chance. None at all.

The world spun wildly, Muse completely out of control.

Thud!

Muse thought, Did I get him? I must have, right? Even if I didn't fully tackle him, I must have knocked him off balance, right?

But—

Looking up from his chaotic fall, Muse saw the back of No. 23 still moving forward. Despite the collision, Lance had maintained control of his steps. As Muse tumbled to the ground, all he could see was the rapidly retreating figure, leaving him in despair.

Twenty-yard line.

Lance had felt the impact on his back, his balance and speed completely thrown off. His knees buckled as he staggered forward.

He was about to collapse!

Clenching his teeth, Lance had just one thought:

Push off.

Push off!

With all the strength he could muster, Lance pushed off with his legs, using inertia to drive himself forward. Not only did he regain control, but his speed also surged once more.

Fifteen-yard line!

Keep pushing.

Ten-yard line.

Diving.

Five-yard line!

His balance was on the verge of collapse. His knees could no longer hold up, but Lance, driven by momentum, dove forward in a final leap.

Airborne, flying.

Crossing the goal line, Lance soared into the end zone, landing in a vast, open space of glory.

Touchdown.

Blackledge couldn't believe his eyes. This unknown No. 23 had just outrun the Tigers' safety with absolute speed—

Pure speed.

Like Sonic the Hedgehog, with blistering acceleration and a final burst of sprinting power! And Blackledge, a seasoned professional, wouldn't forget the series of quick shifts and evasive maneuvers Lance had used earlier to shake off the defensive end. That was where it all began, where he turned a third-and-eight situation into a chance for Alabama to score.

Third and eight?

No, No. 23 had turned it into a fifty-two-yard touchdown run with his incredible performance.

Granted, Clemson's first-string defense wasn't on the field, and these were their substitutes. But remember—Alabama's offense had been stifled in the first half, and now one running back had completely changed the game.

Blackledge turned to Pasch: ???

Pasch smiled, satisfied.

Yes! Yes! Yes!

Bryant-Denny Stadium finally erupted with energy, the long-awaited touchdown coming in such a glorious, decisive manner.

"Roar!"

"Roar!"

The Alabama Crimson Tide had started to roar!

Thunderous cheers reverberated across the stadium.

Allen, the defensive captain, exchanged a glance with fellow captain Foster—

The nightmare they endured earlier was now their opponent's nightmare.

Was it wrong to feel a bit of schadenfreude?

Allen's smirk widened. "So, this rookie's proving himself with a bang, huh? Showing off because he thinks our defense didn't do well. So, what do you say?"

Foster, ever the quiet type, shrugged slightly. "Hit them back."

In the first half, the Crimson Tide's defense, usually their pride, had been dismantled by Watson. But now, with the starters finally on the field and Watson unlikely to return, if they didn't step up their game, they'd lose all respect—especially in front of a rookie like Lance.

Allen cracked his knuckles, eager for action. Were those Tiger cubs ready to face the real Crimson Tide?