"Thank you."
Such a simple, unadorned phrase, yet layered with countless emotions.
Lance's feelings were... complicated.
He could sense Berry's conflicted emotions. Winning a championship was a cause for celebration—deserved and worth celebrating to the fullest—but Berry hadn't been able to participate. He hadn't stood on the field during the team's most difficult and dangerous moments. He had missed most of the regular season, too.
Sure, his name would be engraved on the trophy.
But he hadn't truly fought on the field to earn it.
That left a bittersweet aftertaste no words could properly express.
Especially because Berry didn't know if he could fight alongside Lance again next season.
Injuries don't make promises.
Standing before injury, fate, or life and death, everyone is fragile and small.
Still, that didn't mean Lance would yield.
"Hey, I haven't forgotten about our bet."
Lance flashed a confident smile, reminding Berry—
Next season, he was still looking forward to it.
It was both a reminder and a challenge.
The future was uncertain.
They might give their all and still fail.
But so what?
The journey mattered just as much as the destination.
After all, isn't life itself a long road toward the inevitable?
That short sentence struck straight at Berry's heart.
His throat tightened, almost making him lose control.
He barely managed to hide his feelings behind an exaggerated smile, slapping his thigh.
"Don't worry. I'll be ready. Haha, just you wait!"
Next season, they would run together again.
Fight together again.
And face even greater, harder battles together.
They would fight to defend their title.
Just the thought of it made Berry's blood boil anew.
Only now did the miracle of tonight truly sink in.
They had won.
"Hahaha! We are champions!"
Berry looked at Lance, eyes sparkling with disbelief and sheer joy.
Yes, he hadn't stepped onto the field to fight—but he had been part of this journey every step of the way. He had supported the team in his own way.
And that meant his mark belonged on the trophy, too.
In this moment, they should celebrate. They deserved to.
"Ah, we are champions!"
Nearby, Mahomes heard Berry shouting without understanding why—but he laughed anyway, joining in with a hop and a yell.
"Champions! Champions!"
One, then two, then dozens more joined, until the chant swept across the whole area.
But—
Lance couldn't linger.
A staff member came over to remind him:
Time to go onstage.
Ahead, a simple stage had been erected for the trophy presentation.
Space was tight—not all players could go up.
Usually, two or three representatives would accept the trophy.
Tonight, of course, the Chiefs' MVP had to be one of them.
Lance moved forward and saw Smith and Houston already waiting.
They would all go up together to receive the trophy.
Offstage, Kelce and Hill were hopping and cheering like madmen.
When they saw Lance, the noise grew even louder.
Smith looked a little awkward and shy.
Houston, bolder, gave Lance a hearty punch on the shoulder.
Lance, more natural and easygoing, patted Smith's arm and beckoned the quarterback to join them, his broad smile lighting up his face.
"Champions!"
"Champions, yeahhh!"
Simple words—but they lit Smith's heart on fire.
The stage was already packed.
Not just reporters and league officials—
The Chiefs' owner Clark Hunt, GM Brett Veach, head coach Andy Reid, and others were all there too.
Reid beamed proudly at his players.
But before Reid could say anything, Hunt stepped forward first.
He stared straight at Lance.
Houston and Smith quickly made way.
Hunt embraced Lance firmly.
"Good job," Hunt said, clapping Lance hard on the back.
A year ago, when Reid and Veach had used their high draft pick to take Lance, Hunt had nearly lost it.
If not for Veach's later maneuvering to also snag Mahomes, Hunt might have exploded in anger.
Who would've guessed that the "wild-card" rookie would explode onto the NFL stage and bring the Chiefs their first Lombardi Trophy in half a century?
Now, Hunt looked at Lance like a grizzly bear finding a pot of honey.
Lance smiled back, calm and poised.
"It was a wild ride," Lance said, voice steady, "but we all stuck together to the end—including you, Mr. Hunt."
Hunt blinked.
Then he got the hint—and laughed heartily, clapping Lance's shoulder again before shaking hands with Smith and Houston.
Lance's message was simple:
Victory belongs to everyone.
At the end, Hunt looked at Lance again with a glimmer in his eye:
"You're an interesting guy."
Smith and Houston exchanged glances—and grinned.
Houston leaned over and joked:
"Rookie, congrats—you made the boss's list."
Lance shrugged playfully.
"Black list or white list?"
Laughter erupted.
Even now, Lance could crack jokes—that composure, that presence—it wasn't normal.
Smith and Houston both gave him a thumbs-up.
The cheering around them grew even louder.
The Vince Lombardi Trophy had arrived.
NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell stepped forward—
At last.
The crowning moment had come.
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Powerstones?
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