American Football: Domination

The whole stadium erupted in astonishment.

Second down, six yards to go. Mahomes spread out in a shotgun formation. After narrowly dodging a sack, he launched a 40-yard deep pass aimed at the red zone, looking to connect with Hunt for a kill shot.

The pass—on point.

The footwork—on point.

Hunt's route was sharp, slicing through the Steelers' layered defense to break into the red zone. It seemed the deep pass would end this grueling drive with a touchdown—until, at the very last second, it was interrupted.

Safety Edmunds.

The rookie bit down, dead set on avenging the earlier humiliation by Mahomes. He leapt early, a half-step ahead, nearly intercepting it right in front of Hunt.

Nearly.

He missed the pick, but Edmunds still managed to swat the ball away, stealing the catch from Hunt's mouth like yanking a cooked duck from under his nose.

Arrowhead Stadium froze in stunned silence—

Once for the thrill of the long pass.

Once for the horror of the near interception.

And finally—

Third down, six yards to go. The Chiefs were back in trouble. It was already their third third-down situation in this drive—a testament to how fiercely contested this game had become.

The air tightened with tension.

Then—

"Rookie!"

Felix spotted Lance re-entering and instantly shouted in delight.

The crowd followed, Arrowhead surging with noise.

This drive had taken a toll on Lance. He'd gone full beast mode earlier, forcing his way through defenses. It was exhilarating—but also draining. Lance and Hunt had been rotating in and out. Every second of rest was precious recovery.

Even so, with third and six on the line, they needed Lance.

Tomlin could deny Bell's value to the Steelers with his words—but every time Lance stepped onto the field, his body language told the truth.

Not just Tomlin. The entire Chiefs offense seemed to settle when Lance returned—like their anchor had arrived. Even Mahomes showed visible relief.

Lance patted Mahomes on the shoulder. The offense lined up immediately.

No huddle. No pause. The Chiefs were ready to go.

"Attack!"

Mahomes' voice cut through the tension.

At once, Pittsburgh's defense showed its layers—

First line: the defensive line, blitzing.

Second line: linebackers, stepping up with pressure, but not abandoning their short-pass zones.

Third line: tight man coverage.

Chaos in order. Layered like mountains.

Classic defense. Tomlin was like Doraemon—pulling out new weapons from his bag nonstop, always something fresh.

This time, it was a blitz-focused, tight-coverage combo aimed at shutting down the pass.

The concept had been used in the first quarter, but with lackluster results. This was a refined version.

The key: the linebackers.

Four linebackers staggered along the horizontal axis. No premature rush, no position loss. They could strike or drop back, shifting roles seamlessly.

They stood unmoving amid the swirling red and black—like harbingers of doom, exerting a silent psychological pressure that could break the balance before the snap.

Likely one of Tomlin's hidden ace formations.

So, what about the Chiefs?

Mahomes was rolling out laterally with the ball—

It looked like a passing play.

Lance shadowed him, acting as a mobile protector. Knees bent, center of gravity low, scanning like a predator for any twitch in the defense.

Mahomes read the field while moving, ultra-focused. His stance and motion screamed one thing:

This was a pass.

Most likely medium or deep.

Suddenly, the Steelers' linebackers moved.

One surged forward, blitzing from the edge to disrupt Mahomes—ideally sack him.

Two dropped into the intermediate zone, watching the receivers, trying to guess Mahomes' target.

One stayed put, eyes locked on Mahomes and Lance.

All this, in the blink of an eye.

Then—

Mahomes moved.

Planted, rotated, threw—

Target: Hill, who had already sprinted twenty yards downfield.

The stationary linebacker, TJ, instantly dropped back, shifting and sprinting toward Hill.

Next moment—

Mahomes pulled back his right hand and flicked the ball sideways to Lance.

Fake pass, real run.

A brilliant fake-out shattered Pittsburgh's defensive curtain in a flash.

TJ: Damn it.

Heyward, fire burning in his chest, stepped up—full tilt toward Lance, fury in his eyes, bloodthirst rising.

Push off, charge, tackle—

A sudden vertical collision blew him away. His chest thudded, body spinning out of control.

Lifted off the ground—tumbling midair—Heyward caught a blurry glimpse of Mahomes' charging form too late, shocked that he'd missed him.

But it was too late.

Just moments ago, Lance protected Mahomes.

Now, Mahomes protected Lance.

Mahomes smashed into Heyward, clearing the way. Lance stayed untouched, still advancing. Mahomes adjusted his steps, caught up beside Lance like a miniature tank guarding his flank.

Ahead—TJ returned.

Mahomes knew TJ was ready and wouldn't be easy to shake.

He accelerated, drew even with Lance, now flanking him on the right.

Lance understood instantly—angled slightly forward and right, opening a lane.

Then—

Mahomes planted himself like a post, arms tucked, knees bent, ready to absorb the hit. He blocked TJ squarely, allowing Lance to keep charging forward.

It was flawless coordination—step by step.

The Steelers' ironclad defense toppled like dominoes.

What looked impenetrable fell apart under Kansas City's masterful timing and fake-pass-run deception. The balance of power flipped instantly.

Lance, untouched, crossed the line of scrimmage and gained five yards before unleashing his speed.

Up ahead, cornerback Artie Burns came flying in like a wild mustang.

Incoming—fierce!

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Powerstones?

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