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Anyone who has played regularly in top professional leagues knows that a player's vision on the field is very limited.
It's nothing like the audience's perspective, the coach's perspective, or even a video game camera angle. Players on the field vary in height and are constantly tangled up with each other. Even standing still in a dense cluster of opponents, it's difficult to spot a teammate in open space behind you through all those bodies.
The higher the level of the match, the less time players have to look up and observe. Everyone on the field is part of a tactical system, constantly shifting positions. People around them are engaged in fierce physical battles, while teammates behind them are running dummy runs and trying to lose their markers. Accurately judging the timing of a pass and the position of a teammate is incredibly hard.
So most passes in most matches go to the simpler, safer option along the ground. Passes into space mean taking a risk, with a lower success rate. Even world-class midfielders like Modrić, Xavi, and De Bruyne don't actually play that many decisive through balls into space.
For players making runs to receive, it's even harder. The closer you get to the opponent's penalty area, the greater the defensive pressure. There are always bodies trying to physically contest you, squeeze into better positions, and cut off your angles. And there's always the offside trap. One moment of inattention and you're flagged, your real attacking intent exposed, an excellent chance wasted.
In the past, when Lance moved through the gap between the defensive midfielders and the backline, he struggled to identify the true danger zones inside the crowd. Like any normal player, he could only pick out the obvious open spaces. Which meant opponents covered those same obvious areas. Every time Lance received the ball, he was immediately closed down by two or three players, forcing him to rely on his elite first touch and dribbling to escape.
During his off-ball runs, he mostly followed the mechanical instructions of the tactical setup. He didn't have a deep understanding of it himself. He had always been used to that state, assuming it was just how the game worked.
But when he activated the S-rank template skill [Space Perception], Lance opened the door to an entirely new world.
The closer he got to the opponent's penalty area, the clearer his read of the danger zones became. It was as if he had developed X-ray vision. The entire field looked like puzzle pieces laid out in front of him, and Lance, who had previously only had a vague sense of the space around him, could now instantly identify the single most critical piece.
His body moved on pure instinct, rushing toward the optimal position to receive the ball and score a few seconds later. All of it happened in a flash.
Barcelona defenders Piqué, Mascherano, Busquets, Rakitić, and the others hadn't even registered it. Neither the coaches nor the fans noticed the sudden gap that had opened up. Lance had already made his diagonal run, timed to perfection.
At the same moment, Griezmann's pass arrived right in front of him.
Everything happened too fast. By the time anyone reacted, Lance had burst out from the shadows, controlling the ball a few steps ahead with the tip of his left foot and holding his speed without breaking stride. Like an arrow from a bow, he left Piqué two meters behind in an instant.
Piqué felt a rush of wind. When he turned his head, Lance was already gone.
"So fast!"
"It's over!!"
"What the hell is happening?!"
The Barcelona players all spun around at once, hearts in their throats. Messi's pupils contracted sharply.
"How did he..."
It wasn't until Lance took a commanding touch and drove into the penalty area for a one-on-one that the commentators and viewers finally erupted.
A roar like a tidal wave crashed through the away section of Camp Nou.
Commentator Jian Jun's voice jumped an octave.
"Lance! Beautiful!! It's a one-on-one!! No offside on this play!!"
"Oh wow!! Lance!! That's how you do it!" Instructor Zhang slapped his thigh.
Earlier, Lance had been so completely shut out he could barely touch the ball. Breaking through Barcelona's press had seemed almost impossible. But the most effective way to break a high press is to go directly behind it. A through ball for real men. Fortune favors the bold.
The Spanish commentator was even more worked up. José Ángel chanted Lance's name over and over.
"Lance, Lance, Lance... he's almost at the box! Ter Stegen comes out!"
Ter Stegen was fighting the urge to curse. What were the defenders doing? How had they let someone run clean through like that?
He rushed out of the box, dropping his center of gravity, searching for the right moment to close down the one-on-one. Goalkeepers in these situations usually gamble on a sliding tackle to clear the ball, or quickly backpedal and attempt a diving save at the edge of the area. This was a straight duel between goalkeeper and striker.
Everyone watching, across every camp, held their breath.
"How will he go? Right side, left side? Feint! To the left!!"
Ter Stegen spread his arms and retreated carefully, trying to read Lance's direction. Lance pushed the ball to the right with the outside of his foot, forcing Ter Stegen left. Ter Stegen shifted his weight across while keeping a read on a potential second move.
Sure enough.
The moment Lance pushed right, he instantly pulled it back again.
"Elastico!"
A brilliant Elastico pull-back, second change of direction, bursting left. Ter Stegen's read was right this time. He launched himself with everything he had, trying to cover as much space as possible, both hands reaching out to get something on the ball.
Even if Lance were superhuman, he couldn't cover the full width of a goalkeeper's dive in mid-change of direction. Logically, Ter Stegen's save was perfect. Every angle was blocked.
But the next second.
"Oh oh oh oh!! No way!! This goal!!"
Instructor Zhang, for the first time in years, felt a thrill he hadn't experienced before.
The 90,000 people inside Camp Nou gasped.
Luis Enrique clutched his head, staring in disbelief.
Just as Lance executed the Elastico pull-back and shifted left, his body lightly leaped up, first hurdling over the diving goalkeeper. The ball, however, stayed behind him. Then, in that exact moment of stepping over Ter Stegen, Lance flicked the ball up with his left heel at the last possible instant.
A Rainbow Flick.
The world was stunned.
A trick that other players, including Neymar, used purely for show had just been turned into a functional, devastating weapon. The breakthrough effect was extraordinary.
Ter Stegen could only watch helplessly as Lance leaped over him, landed without breaking stride, and volleyed the ball into the empty net.
The Barcelona stands fell completely silent.
The thousands of Atlético Madrid fans packed into the away section unleashed a roar that could have belonged to tens of thousands.
"Gooooooooal!!!"
"Incredible!! What a goal!! Lance scores in a one-on-one!! Beats the goalkeeper and finishes into the empty net!"
Jian Jun's voice was already going hoarse.
"God Lance on a solo run at Camp Nou! Barcelona are breached once again!"
"1-0! Atlético Madrid lead as the away side!"
It exploded. The live stream exploded. Lance's goal kept everyone wide awake and buzzing in the middle of the night.
Barcelona's seemingly airtight possession and impenetrable defensive shape had been torn open like a blade cutting through thin fabric.
"Unbelievable!"
"God Lance!!"
"King Lance!!"
Before this, only Messi had been called the King of Fleas. Others like Hazard had picked up the "King" title occasionally, but it had always felt too weighty to stick. Too controversial in serious circles.
But today, when Lance cut through Barcelona's iron curtain defense, surrounded on all sides, and scored a solo goal at Camp Nou, calling him King Lance felt entirely justified. Not even Barcelona fans could argue against it.
Look at Messi. Look at Lance. Who is the King?
Messi had come into this match full of fight, ready to settle the score. But the moment Lance broke free and dribbled past Ter Stegen, something shifted. A flicker of despair crossed his face.
How had he broken through a defense that Messi himself struggled to penetrate? It had looked effortless. Like a hot knife through butter.
And hadn't Lance always been weak off the ball? So what was that run?
If it wasn't a fluke, if it was genuinely his spatial awareness and positional instinct doing that, then Messi couldn't even begin to imagine how frightening this man's rate of improvement really was.
In that instant, Messi knew. Today's match was probably already lost.
For the first time, a genuine sense of helplessness appeared in eyes that had always burned with confidence.
As for Simeone, he was overjoyed, almost convinced he was dreaming.
"Is this real? Is this actually happening?"
"Lance has only been working on his off-ball movement for a short time and the results are already this good?"
"God bless!" The assistant coach crossed himself.
Simeone just shook his head.
"Praying to God is less useful than praying to Lance himself. The man is simply on another level."
And as a coach, Simeone meant every word of it.
This goal had come during Barcelona's most controlled and suffocating spell of the match. The shock it delivered was immense. So immense, in fact, that when Lance scored again in the 32nd minute, it barely felt surprising at all.
"Lance!!! Finds space in the box! Left-footed volley!!"
"2-0 away from home!!! Atlético Madrid lead by two goals! God Lance with a brace!"
Nobody had predicted this before kickoff. A La Liga title decider between two elite sides, billed as an epic battle, and Atlético Madrid had made it look straightforward.