Lance swore he had no recollection of that face. From his look, this guy had to be one of McCaffrey's teammates from Stanford, but who knew they had someone like him?
Mahomes sidled closer and nudged Lance lightly. "Don't let it bother you. That was Solomon Thomas—a defensive end who's been obsessed with outshining Garrett. Since Garrett didn't manage to stop you, all the D-linemen and linebackers are aiming to shut you down. If they can, it might boost their draft ranking even higher than Garrett's."
So that's it—a stepping stone.
From his National Championship MVP title to his record-breaking Heisman win, Lance had been thrust into the spotlight, and rivals were eager to make a name for themselves by beating him.
But Lance didn't mind.
They wanted to use Lance to prove themselves? Well, he was ready to face all challengers and prove them wrong. Whether Lance would be their stepping stone or vice versa was yet to be seen.
He didn't give the provocation a second thought; if anything, it meant he was a target worth going after—a good thing.
For now, he was looking for his teammates.
This year, more than a handful of Alabama players were entering the draft, many of them juniors. As the backbone of two consecutive National Championships, they were naturally on the radar of NFL scouts.
Then, a figure passed by and caught Lance's eye, pausing momentarily before doubling back and stopping in front of him with a broad smile.
"Oh, here you are."
So, a fan?
"I'm going to beat you," was his next statement.
A challenge.
"You're not half as good as Derrick Henry was. Henry had both speed and strength; you just rely on cheap tricks. Everyone knows the Crimson Tide's O-line is dominant—you're nothing without them. At least half your stats belong to your teammates."
"The league's just pushing you because of your marketing value in Asia. They want you to win the Heisman, and the media goes along with it. But you're just a pretty face, hyped up for show."
"You look great on the outside, but you're empty inside. I'm going to show the world what a fraud you are, that you're nothing but a hollow shell."
Calm, collected, and as steady as a stone, his words radiated disdain. This wasn't the fiery contempt of a rookie looking to prove himself; this was contempt from the core. He gazed at Lance as though he were a gilded decoration—glossy outside, rotten within.
Mahomes was at a loss. The man's polite tone made it sound like a friendly chat, yet the words were so biting. How were you supposed to respond to that?
Lance, meanwhile, flashed a polite smile and nodded graciously. He looked like a model student. "I'll be waiting."
He was serious. If anyone wanted to throw down the gauntlet, he'd pick it up without hesitation.
"Still," he added, "I suspect quite a few people are thinking the same as you. Better grab a number and queue up."
A hint of mischief played on Lance's lips as he flashed a charming grin.
Mahomes: "…"
The other man: "…"
Why did it suddenly feel awkward?
Seeing that the challenger seemed momentarily frozen in place, Lance leaned toward Mahomes and whispered, "Who is this guy?"
The challenger's face turned beet-red, like a pressure cooker about to burst. His ears seemed to be steaming.
Mahomes leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Alvin Kamara, Tennessee running back."
The University of Tennessee—Alabama's long-time rival—had performed well this season, finishing the NCAA season ranked ninth and serving as Alabama's first opponent in a brutal midseason stretch against three top teams.
But Alabama had crushed Tennessee, nearly blanking them out of the game. No wonder Lance couldn't remember the running back in front of him.
"Tennessee?" Lance murmured, surprised. "You mean, our SEC rival?"
Kamara's face deepened to an angry shade of red. Watching Lance and Mahomes whispering right in front of him was beyond humiliating, and he was practically vibrating with rage.
What was he supposed to do?
He opened his mouth, ready to introduce himself, then thought better of it, feeling it would only make him look pitiful. But walking away seemed equally pathetic.
Caught in limbo, Kamara froze.
Just then, a familiar voice boomed across the room. "Rookie!"
No need to look; Lance recognized the voice as Humphrey's.
Suddenly, all eyes turned toward Lance—the National Championship MVP, the Heisman winner, being called "rookie" in public?
A chorus of cheers erupted. Humphrey wasn't alone—Alan, Howard, Foster, and Robinson were there too. Alabama's championship squad had all gathered.
Lance turned to greet his teammates warmly, only half-aware as he introduced Mahomes. "Oh, and another guy—says he's from Tennessee…"
Turning back, he saw that Kamara had vanished.
Not only Kamara but the crowd around the Alabama players had thinned as well. The Tide's dominance this season had left an undeniable mark, creating a wall of distinction between them and other teams.
Only Clemson players seemed uninterested, passing them by without a glance. Watson walked by, heading straight toward the elevators.
Mahomes, caught in the crowd of Alabama's National Champions, seemed a little self-conscious, trapped with no obvious escape.
Mahomes: Maybe I should just disappear under a car?
Surrounded by his Alabama teammates, Lance was escorted to the registration desk. Humphrey even took care of his check-in. They then accompanied Lance and Mahomes upstairs; by coincidence, their rooms were next to each other. Lance swiped his keycard and opened the door.
"Meet downstairs in a bit? I'm thinking of a light run in the gym."
A chorus of groans and protests rose from his teammates, but Lance had already developed a strict training routine.
"It'll be short. Just cardio, to keep up daily."
Among the sighs and grumbling, Lance turned to see a familiar face waiting by the bed—a lively but slightly awkward smile on his face, hands on hips as though he'd been waiting all along for Lance to notice.
Finally, Lance turned around.
The smile on the waiting face widened, brimming with enthusiasm.
"Mind if I join you for training?"
To Lance's surprise, he'd encountered Christian McCaffrey yet again.
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Powerstones?
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