If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
_____________________________
(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
When Manchester City walked onto the Emirates pitch for the first leg of the Champions League quarter-final, Arsenal intended to be ready.
Matchday arrived with a sense of occasion that everyone at Arsenal could feel long before the players reached the stadium.
The Premier League had become routine.
The Champions League never did.
There was something different about European nights in North London.
Supporters spoke a little louder.
The streets around the Emirates filled a little earlier.
Scarves appeared over coats despite the cool evening air.
Everywhere Francesco looked during the drive to the stadium, there were flashes of red and white making their way towards the famous ground.
This wasn't just another fixture.
This was the Champions League quarter-final.
The first leg.
Manchester City.
One of Europe's finest sides.
One of Arsenal's greatest tests of the season.
The Arsenal team coach rolled through the secure entrance beneath the Emirates Stadium shortly after late afternoon.
The familiar underground arrival area buzzed with activity.
Television crews waited behind barriers.
UEFA officials moved between dressing rooms carrying folders and accreditation passes.
Stewards checked every entrance.
Equipment staff were already unloading bags from the luggage compartment.
As the bus came to a gentle stop, Wenger stood first.
He looked around the cabin.
"Gentlemen."
His voice remained calm.
"You know what tonight means."
He smiled slightly.
"So enjoy it."
One by one, the players stepped off the coach.
Francesco adjusted the strap of his backpack before walking alongside Walker through the concrete corridor leading towards the dressing room.
Walker glanced around.
"It feels different already."
Francesco nodded.
"It always does."
"The music."
"The cameras."
"The badges."
Walker smiled.
"Champions League."
"There isn't much like it."
"No."
"There isn't."
Inside Arsenal's dressing room, everything had been prepared with meticulous care.
Each locker displayed the player's name.
Champions League shirts hung neatly from polished wooden panels.
Fresh training kits rested below.
Boots stood perfectly aligned.
Recovery drinks had already been placed beside every seat.
The large UEFA Champions League emblem decorated one wall, reminding everyone of the occasion.
Francesco walked towards his place.
Resting neatly beside his folded white shirt lay the captain's armband.
He picked it up for a brief moment before placing it carefully inside his locker.
Walker noticed.
"Back where it belongs."
Francesco smiled.
"I've still got ninety minutes to earn it."
Alexis walked past carrying his boots.
"You already have."
Francesco simply smiled.
A member of Arsenal's support staff entered.
"Warm-up in fifteen minutes."
Immediately the dressing room came alive.
Players exchanged casual conversation while changing into Arsenal's dark navy training tops.
GPS vests disappeared beneath the fabric.
Tape wrapped around ankles.
Boot laces were tightened.
Everything happened almost automatically.
Months of routine had turned preparation into habit.
Özil sat quietly beside Francesco while adjusting his socks.
"You slept well?"
"I did."
"You?"
The German nodded.
"I always sleep well before big matches."
"How?"
Özil smiled.
"I stop thinking."
"I haven't worked out how."
"You will."
A knock echoed against the dressing-room door.
"Five minutes."
The room gradually quietened.
Players finished stretching before gathering near the tunnel entrance.
Wenger looked around once.
"No injuries in the warm-up."
Walker raised an eyebrow.
"That's always the plan."
The Frenchman couldn't help smiling.
"Good."
"Keep it that way."
The tunnel doors opened.
Immediately the sound struck them.
More than sixty thousand Arsenal supporters were already inside the Emirates.
Even during the warm-up, the atmosphere felt electric.
As Arsenal emerged from the tunnel, a huge roar swept across the stadium.
Francesco looked slowly around the ground.
European nights always transformed the Emirates.
Champions League banners covered the stands.
Floodlights reflected brilliantly across the immaculate pitch.
The famous starball logo occupied the centre circle.
Everything seemed brighter.
Bigger.
More important.
The warm-up began immediately.
Passing triangles.
Dynamic stretching.
Sprint work.
Crossing drills.
At one end of the pitch, Petr Čech worked separately with the goalkeeping coaches.
Nearby, Walker and Robertson repeatedly delivered crosses into the penalty area.
Özil and Xhaka rehearsed quick combinations through midfield.
Francesco, Alexis Sánchez and Serge Gnabry rotated continuously across the front line, exchanging positions exactly as they had practised all week.
One flowing move ended with Özil slipping a perfectly weighted pass through the middle.
Francesco finished first time beyond the reserve goalkeeper.
The home supporters applauded loudly.
Walker jogged over.
"Save one of those for later."
"I'll try."
"No."
"Definitely save one."
Alexis laughed.
"I think he's planning to."
"I hope so."
After twenty-five minutes, the referee instructed both teams to leave the pitch.
Arsenal applauded every corner of the stadium before jogging back towards the tunnel.
Inside the dressing room, the mood changed immediately.
Training tops came off.
Champions League match shirts replaced them.
White shirts.
White shorts.
White socks.
The famous UEFA badge rested proudly on each sleeve.
Conversation gradually faded.
This was no longer preparation.
This was match time.
Francesco carefully tied the captain's armband around his left arm.
He looked down briefly.
Every time he wore it, he felt the same mixture of pride and responsibility.
Walker nudged him gently.
"Looks good."
"Hopefully it still does after ninety minutes."
"It will."
A few moments later, Wenger stepped towards the tactics board.
The room fell completely silent.
He placed the magnetic markers carefully onto the board.
"Our starting eleven remains exactly as planned."
He pointed to each position.
"Petr Čech."
"Andrew Robertson."
"Laurent Koscielny."
"Virgil van Dijk."
"Kyle Walker."
"N'Golo Kanté."
"Granit Xhaka."
"Mesut Özil."
"Alexis Sánchez."
"Serge Gnabry."
Finally…
"Francesco."
"Our captain."
He looked around the room.
"I trust every one of you."
Then Wenger reached for another board.
"This is Manchester City."
He began placing blue magnets across the pitch.
"Ederson."
"Aymeric Laporte."
"Vincent Kompany."
"Nicolás Otamendi."
"Danilo."
"Fernandinho."
"İlkay Gündoğan."
"David Silva."
"Leroy Sané."
"Gabriel Jesus."
"Kevin De Bruyne."
He stepped back.
"Pep is using a 4-3-3."
"As expected."
Steve Bould pointed towards City's midfield.
"This is where they control matches."
"Fernandinho protects."
"Gündoğan links."
"David Silva creates."
Then he tapped De Bruyne's marker.
"And this man…"
"…changes games."
Everyone watched carefully.
Wenger folded his arms.
"We respect Manchester City."
"But we do not fear them."
He looked directly at his attacking players.
"Move."
"Rotate."
"Stretch their defence."
"When opportunities appear…"
"…be ruthless."
His eyes moved around the room.
"And remember."
"This is only the first leg."
"But…"
He paused.
"We play at home tonight."
His voice became firmer.
"We must use that."
"We attack."
"We score."
"We give ourselves the advantage before travelling to the Etihad."
Francesco answered first.
"We will."
Around the dressing room, heads nodded.
Nobody needed convincing.
They understood exactly what was at stake.
A member of UEFA staff knocked on the door.
"Two minutes."
The room became silent once again.
Players stood together.
One final deep breath.
Walker looked across at Francesco.
"Ready, skipper?"
Francesco smiled.
"Let's make it a good night."
The tunnel beneath the Emirates buzzed with anticipation.
Manchester City's players stood opposite Arsenal.
De Bruyne adjusted his socks quietly.
David Silva spoke briefly with Fernandinho.
Kompany stood calmly at the front wearing the captain's armband.
Francesco walked over.
The two captains exchanged a respectful handshake.
"Good luck."
"You too."
Around them, television cameras captured every moment.
Then the stadium lights dimmed slightly.
The familiar opening notes echoed around the Emirates.
The UEFA Champions League anthem.
Every player stood still.
Supporters rose to their feet.
Blue and white flags waved around the stadium.
For a few unforgettable moments, nobody spoke.
Only the music filled the air.
Francesco looked briefly towards the Arsenal supporters.
This was why every player dreamed of competing in Europe.
When the anthem finished, applause thundered around the stadium.
The referee stepped forward.
Players moved along the line, shaking hands with the officials before greeting their opponents.
One by one, every Arsenal player shook hands with every Manchester City player.
Professional respect.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
Next came the traditional team photograph.
The starting eleven gathered together.
The front row crouched.
The back row stood behind.
The cameras flashed repeatedly.
Another memory captured forever.
Finally, the referee called both captains towards the centre circle.
Francesco and Kompany walked side by side.
The referee held up the coin.
"Heads or tails?"
"Heads," Kompany answered.
The coin spun into the night before dropping neatly into the referee's hand.
"Heads."
Kompany looked towards Francesco.
"You choose."
Francesco glanced briefly across the pitch before answering.
"We'll attack the right."
The referee nodded.
"Very well."
Manchester City would kick towards the opposite end in the first half.
The captains shook hands once more before jogging back towards their teams.
Francesco gathered his teammates together.
"First five minutes."
"Set the tempo."
"Stay brave."
Kanté clapped his hands.
"Let's go."
The referee checked both assistants.
He glanced around the stadium.
Then one sharp whistle pierced the night.
The Champions League quarter-final had begun.
Arsenal immediately looked to impose themselves.
Xhaka received the opening pass before switching play towards Robertson.
The Scottish full-back recycled possession calmly through Van Dijk.
Manchester City's press arrived instantly.
Jesus chased.
David Silva stepped forward.
De Bruyne closed Xhaka.
Exactly as Arsenal had expected.
The opening exchanges became an intense tactical battle.
Neither side wanted to surrender control of midfield.
Kanté covered enormous ground, intercepting loose passes before immediately finding Özil.
Fernandinho answered with challenges of his own.
David Silva drifted into clever pockets between the lines.
Walker remained alert whenever Sané threatened down the left.
Robertson matched Danilo stride for stride.
Every duel felt important.
Every pass carried purpose.
The Emirates crowd responded to every successful tackle with loud applause.
Every clever piece of skill earned another roar.
The match developed into exactly the contest everyone had anticipated.
Fast.
Technical.
Relentless.
After twenty minutes, Arsenal gradually began enjoying longer spells of possession.
Özil started finding little pockets of space behind Fernandinho.
Alexis drifted inside to combine with Francesco.
Gnabry stretched City's defensive line with intelligent runs.
Wenger watched calmly from the touchline.
"Keep moving."
"Keep moving."
Then came the breakthrough.
Twenty-seventh minute.
It began with Kanté winning another challenge in midfield.
Instead of forcing the ball forward, he calmly played it to Xhaka.
The Swiss midfielder immediately found Özil between the lines.
The German turned elegantly away from Gündoğan.
For just a split second, Kompany hesitated.
That was all Özil needed.
His perfectly weighted through ball split City's centre-backs.
Francesco had already begun his run.
He burst into the space between Kompany and Otamendi, taking the pass effortlessly in stride.
Ederson rushed from his goal.
The angle narrowed.
Francesco remained composed.
One precise touch.
A calm right-footed finish across the goalkeeper.
The ball rolled beautifully into the far corner.
Goal.
Arsenal.
The Emirates exploded.
Red and white scarves flew into the air.
Francesco spread his arms before disappearing beneath a wave of celebrating teammates.
Özil reached him first.
"I told you."
"You found me."
Walker arrived laughing.
"Now that's a proper assist."
Francesco grinned.
"I'll give you that one."
The noise around the stadium barely faded before play restarted.
Manchester City responded exactly as champions often do.
They refused to panic.
De Bruyne demanded more possession.
David Silva drifted deeper to influence the game.
Pep Guardiola stood near his technical area, calmly encouraging his players.
"Keep playing."
"We continue."
City enjoyed their best spell of the match over the next ten minutes.
Čech produced an excellent save from Gabriel Jesus.
Van Dijk headed away a dangerous De Bruyne cross.
Koscielny blocked a powerful effort from Sané.
Arsenal weathered the pressure.
Then, just before half-time, they struck again.
Forty-second minute.
Robertson surged forward after receiving possession from Xhaka.
Instead of crossing immediately, he delayed just long enough to draw Danilo towards him.
Then he whipped a low ball across the face of goal.
Alexis Sánchez had anticipated it perfectly.
The Chilean darted across Otamendi before meeting the cross first time.
Ederson had no chance.
The ball crashed into the roof of the net.
2-0.
The Emirates erupted even louder than before.
Alexis sprinted towards the corner flag before turning back to point directly at Robertson.
"What a ball!"
The Scottish defender raised both hands.
Francesco embraced both of them.
"Perfect."
"Exactly what we needed."
The closing minutes of the half remained fiercely contested.
Manchester City tried to pull one back before the interval.
Arsenal defended with discipline.
Kanté intercepted countless passes.
Walker tracked every run from Sané.
Van Dijk organised the defensive line calmly.
When the referee finally blew for half-time, the scoreboard remained unchanged.
Arsenal 2.
Manchester City 0.
The home supporters rose together, applauding their team all the way back towards the tunnel.
Inside the dressing room, players grabbed water bottles before taking their seats.
Heavy breathing filled the room.
Wenger waited until everyone had settled.
Then he stood before the tactics board.
"Excellent first half."
He looked around slowly.
"We've been brave."
"We've been disciplined."
"And we've been clinical."
He paused.
"But this tie…"
"…is not finished."
Nobody relaxed.
The Frenchman pointed towards the board.
"We continue attacking."
"We continue moving."
"I don't want us protecting this lead."
His voice grew firmer.
"We are at home."
"We must take full advantage before we go to the Etihad."
He looked directly at Francesco, Alexis and Gnabry.
"I want more."
"We keep attacking."
"We keep creating."
"We score again if the opportunity comes."
Around the dressing room, every player nodded in agreement.
Forty-five minutes remained.
Arsenal held a two-goal advantage.
The dressing room remained quiet for a few moments after Arsène Wenger finished speaking.
Nobody mistook his words for celebration.
A two-goal lead against Manchester City was valuable.
It was never comfortable.
Especially not against a Pep Guardiola side.
Francesco took another sip of water before placing the bottle beside him. Around the room, players focused on their own routines. Walker retied his boots, Robertson rolled his shoulders to loosen the stiffness that had built up during the opening forty-five minutes, while Kanté sat calmly, his breathing already returning to normal despite covering almost every blade of grass in the first half.
Alexis bounced lightly on the balls of his feet.
"I don't think they'll wait."
Francesco nodded.
"They'll come after us."
"They have to."
Across the room, Özil quietly adjusted his shin pads before looking towards Wenger.
"We keep the ball."
"We make them run."
The French manager smiled.
"Exactly."
He clapped his hands once.
"Remember what brought us here."
"Courage."
"Not caution."
"We respect them."
"But we don't stop being Arsenal."
Steve Bould stepped forward one final time.
"The first ten minutes are important."
"They'll expect us to defend."
"So surprise them."
The players exchanged brief glances.
Everyone understood.
Instead of protecting the lead as they were going to attack it.
A UEFA official appeared at the dressing-room door.
"Two minutes."
The room came alive again.
Water bottles were emptied.
Final stretches loosened tired muscles.
Francesco stood first before extending a hand towards Walker.
"Ready?"
Walker pulled himself to his feet.
"I was hoping you'd ask after another five-minute break."
"You've had fifteen."
"I know."
"It wasn't enough."
Alexis laughed.
"You're impossible."
"So I've been told."
The squad formed together near the tunnel before walking back towards the pitch.
As soon as they emerged beneath the floodlights, another deafening roar swept around the Emirates Stadium.
More than sixty thousand supporters rose once again.
Red-and-white scarves waved proudly in every stand.
The Champions League atmosphere somehow felt even louder than before.
Across the field, Pep Guardiola stood speaking animatedly to Kevin De Bruyne and David Silva.
His gestures were quick and precise.
City needed a response.
They could not afford another quiet forty-five minutes.
Francesco glanced across at Kompany as both captains took their positions.
The Belgian remained composed.
No panic.
Only determination.
The referee checked both assistants before lifting the whistle.
One sharp blast.
The second half began.
Manchester City's opening shape immediately looked more aggressive.
Jesus pressed Van Dijk high up the pitch.
David Silva moved closer to De Bruyne, trying to overload Arsenal's midfield.
Fernandinho stepped almost into the attacking third whenever City regained possession.
They expected Arsenal to retreat.
Instead…
Arsenal attacked.
Within thirty seconds Robertson burst down the left touchline before exchanging passes with Alexis.
Walker flew forward on the opposite flank.
Özil drifted into another pocket of space.
Francesco and Gnabry both made simultaneous runs behind City's defence.
For a brief moment, City's players hesitated.
It wasn't what they had prepared for.
Guardiola stepped towards the edge of his technical area.
"Compact!"
"Stay together!"
But Arsenal refused to slow the tempo.
Kanté intercepted another loose pass from David Silva before immediately finding Xhaka.
One touch.
Straight into Özil.
The German turned elegantly away from Fernandinho before releasing Walker into space.
Walker crossed first time.
Otamendi cleared hurriedly behind for a corner.
The Emirates sensed the momentum immediately.
Every successful pass drew louder applause.
Every tackle earned another roar.
Manchester City looked slightly unsettled.
Not because Arsenal were defending brilliantly.
Because Arsenal weren't defending at all.
They were forcing City backwards.
Walker jogged back into position with a grin.
"I don't think they expected this."
Francesco smiled.
"Neither did half the stadium."
Five minutes later, Arsenal came close again.
Alexis danced inside Danilo before slipping the ball into Francesco's path.
His first-time effort curled just beyond Ederson's far post.
The Brazilian goalkeeper clapped his defenders together.
"Wake up."
"Concentrate."
City gradually steadied themselves, but Arsenal's confidence continued growing with every passing minute.
Then came another moment of brilliance.
The fifty-third minute.
The move started with Van Dijk calmly stepping out from defence.
Rather than clearing long under pressure, the Dutchman found Xhaka with a crisp pass through midfield.
Xhaka immediately switched play towards Gnabry on the right wing.
The young German controlled it beautifully before facing Laporte one-on-one.
He feinted towards the byline.
Laporte committed.
Instead, Gnabry cut sharply inside onto his stronger foot.
Fernandinho rushed across to help.
Too late.
Gnabry slipped a clever pass into the edge of the penalty area.
Özil had ghosted unnoticed into the space between City's midfield and defence.
The German's first touch was exquisite.
It carried him away from Kompany while opening the angle perfectly.
Ederson advanced quickly.
Özil barely seemed to notice.
With remarkable composure, he lifted a delicate finish beyond the goalkeeper and into the far side of the net.
Goal.
Arsenal.
Three.
Manchester City.
Nil.
For a heartbeat, the Emirates seemed almost stunned.
Then the stadium erupted.
The roar rolled around North London like thunder.
Özil rarely celebrated wildly.
This time, even he couldn't hide his smile.
He spread his arms before being surrounded by teammates.
Gnabry reached him first.
"I knew you'd be there."
"You always do."
Francesco wrapped both of them in an embrace.
"Brilliant."
Walker arrived moments later.
"I like this plan."
"So do I."
Wenger applauded firmly from the touchline.
He didn't celebrate excessively.
Instead, he immediately pointed towards the halfway line.
"Again."
"Keep going."
Guardiola folded his arms.
His expression remained calm, but his assistants were already discussing possible changes.
City restarted with greater urgency.
De Bruyne tried forcing quicker passes into dangerous areas.
David Silva drifted wider to escape Kanté's relentless marking.
Jesus dropped deeper in search of possession.
Still Arsenal remained disciplined.
Every player worked.
Every runner was tracked.
Every challenge mattered.
Čech confidently claimed a dangerous cross before immediately releasing Robertson with a quick throw.
The Scottish full-back surged forward once more.
The crowd responded every time he crossed halfway.
His energy never seemed to fade.
Around the hour mark, City finally produced sustained pressure.
Bernardo Silva and Raheem Sterling had begun warming up along the touchline, but Guardiola delayed the substitutions, hoping his current eleven could find a route back into the match.
De Bruyne whipped a dangerous free-kick towards the penalty area.
Van Dijk rose highest once again.
His clearing header travelled almost to the halfway line.
Francesco chased it tirelessly, forcing Kompany to retreat rather than allowing another immediate City attack.
The supporters appreciated every effort.
A standing ovation followed the captain's pressing.
Then, five minutes later…
Arsenal struck again.
Sixty-fifth minute.
Walker won another corner after his cross deflected off Laporte.
Özil walked calmly towards the corner flag.
Inside the penalty area, Van Dijk exchanged a glance with Koscielny.
"We go together."
The Dutch defender nodded.
Francesco positioned himself near the penalty spot, drawing both Kompany and Otamendi towards him.
Exactly as rehearsed.
The referee checked the jostling before stepping away.
Özil raised one hand.
The signal.
His delivery was magnificent.
Fast.
Whipping.
Perfectly placed between goalkeeper and defenders.
Van Dijk timed his run flawlessly.
He exploded between Laporte and Fernandinho before meeting the cross with a thunderous header.
Ederson reacted.
Too late.
The ball flew into the roof of the net.
Goal.
Four.
Nil.
The Emirates Stadium erupted into absolute bedlam.
Van Dijk roared in celebration, punching the air before being engulfed by teammates.
Koscielny arrived first, grabbing him around the shoulders.
"What a header!"
Robertson sprinted almost the length of the pitch to join them.
"You monster!"
Özil simply smiled quietly as Walker pointed towards him.
"Another assist."
The German shrugged modestly.
"It was a good run."
Francesco laughed.
"That cross deserved a goal."
High above the pitch, Arsenal supporters bounced in unison.
Songs echoed continuously around the stadium.
The belief that had been growing all season suddenly felt stronger than ever.
They weren't simply beating Manchester City.
They were overwhelming one of Europe's elite sides.
Guardiola finally turned towards his bench.
The fourth official prepared the electronic board.
In the sixty-fifth minute, City's changes arrived.
İlkay Gündoğan walked off first, exchanging a quick handshake with Pep.
Bernardo Silva replaced him, bringing fresh creativity into midfield.
Moments later, Leroy Sané also departed.
Raheem Sterling entered to add pace down the flank.
Sterling received warm applause from sections of the Arsenal crowd who still respected his years in English football, before immediately focusing on the task ahead.
Pep gathered both substitutes briefly.
"Be brave."
"Move the ball quicker."
"Attack."
Across the field, Wenger waited a little longer.
He watched another few minutes carefully.
Satisfied with both the scoreline and the effort his attackers had produced, he finally made his own decisions.
The fourth official lifted the board once more.
Number 9.
Francesco.
Number 7.
Alexis Sánchez.
Number 11.
Mesut Özil.
All coming off.
Replacing them were Olivier Giroud.
Alex Iwobi.
And Santi Cazorla.
The Emirates rose as one.
A huge ovation followed the three departing players.
Francesco applauded every stand as he jogged towards the touchline.
The captain's armband came off his left arm.
He handed it respectfully to Laurent Koscielny.
"Finish strong."
The French defender nodded.
"We will."
Wenger met Francesco with a firm handshake.
"Outstanding."
Francesco smiled.
"The whole team was."
"You led them well."
Nearby, Alexis embraced Iwobi.
"Enjoy yourself."
"I will."
Özil shook Cazorla's hand warmly.
"Keep the ball."
The Spaniard grinned.
"Always."
With fresh legs on the pitch, Arsenal never allowed their standards to drop.
Giroud immediately gave City's defenders a different problem with his physical presence.
Iwobi's direct running forced Danilo backwards.
Cazorla settled beautifully into midfield, helping Arsenal retain possession whenever City tried building momentum.
Manchester City refused to surrender.
De Bruyne continued searching tirelessly for openings.
Sterling attacked Walker repeatedly.
Bernardo Silva drifted intelligently between the lines.
Yet every attack eventually met the same red-and-white wall.
Kanté intercepted another pass.
Van Dijk cleared another cross.
Koscielny blocked another effort from Jesus.
Čech remained commanding whenever the ball entered his penalty area.
As the final fifteen minutes approached, the atmosphere inside the Emirates transformed into one long celebration.
Ole after ole greeted long passing sequences.
Every successful tackle received thunderous applause.
Supporters sensed they were witnessing one of Arsenal's finest European performances in years.
Walker glanced towards the bench during a brief stoppage.
Francesco caught his eye.
The right-back shouted with a grin.
"No emotional assists tonight!"
Francesco laughed loudly enough for those nearby to hear.
"You actually earned this one!"
Even Giroud couldn't help smiling.
The closing minutes ticked away.
Eighty-two.
Eighty-six.
Ninety.
City continued searching for a consolation goal.
It never came.
Čech preserved the clean sheet with one final diving save from Sterling after a clever pass by De Bruyne.
The veteran goalkeeper rose immediately, pumping both fists.
"Come on!"
The fourth official signalled four minutes of added time.
Wenger folded his arms once more.
"No mistakes."
Arsenal managed the remaining minutes with complete maturity.
Cazorla slowed the rhythm whenever necessary.
Giroud held the ball brilliantly in the attacking third.
Iwobi continued tracking back to help Robertson.
Every player remained fully committed until the very last whistle.
Finally…
The referee looked at his watch.
He raised the whistle to his lips.
Full-time.
Arsenal 4.
Manchester City 0.
For a split second, there was silence.
Then the Emirates exploded.
Players embraced across the pitch.
Čech hugged Van Dijk.
Walker wrapped an arm around Robertson before both applauded the supporters.
Giroud celebrated with Cazorla and Iwobi near the centre circle.
Francesco stepped back onto the pitch from the technical area to congratulate every teammate personally.
He embraced Özil first.
"Two assists and a goal."
The German smiled.
"We all played well."
Alexis joined them with a grin.
"We're not finished yet."
"No," Francesco replied, looking briefly towards the away end where City's players stood quietly applauding their travelling supporters.
"We've only won the first half."
Nearby, Wenger and Guardiola shared a respectful handshake.
The Frenchman's expression showed quiet satisfaction.
Guardiola nodded respectfully.
He knew the tie remained alive at the Etihad.
But Arsenal had given themselves a remarkable advantage.
As the players gathered in front of the Clock End to thank the supporters, red-and-white scarves continued to sway beneath the floodlights.
The Champions League anthem had opened the evening.
Now it ended with thousands of voices singing together.
A 4-0 victory.
A clean sheet.
An outstanding first-leg performance against one of Europe's strongest teams.
The road to the semi-finals was still unfinished, and everyone inside the stadium understood that the Etihad would present an entirely different challenge.
But on this unforgettable European night in North London, Arsenal had produced football of the highest quality and taken a giant step towards the Champions League semi-finals.
______________________________________________
Name : Francesco Lee
Age : 19 (2017)
Birthplace : London, England
Football Club : Arsenal First Team
Championship History : 2014/2015 Premier League, 2014/2015 FA Cup, 2015/2016 Community Shield, 2016/2017 Premier League, 2015/2016 Champions League, Euro 2016, Premier League Champion 2016/2017, 2016/2017 Champions League, and 2017/2018 Carabao Cup.
Season 17/18 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 47
Goal: 59
Assist: 6
MOTM: 6
POTM: 0
England:
Match: 4
Goal: 4
Assist: 1
MOTM: 2
Season 16/17 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 55
Goal: 87
Assist: 5
MOTM: 14
POTM: 1
England:
Match: 1
Goal: 1
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
Season 15/16 stats:
Arsenal:
Match Played: 60
Goal: 82
Assist: 10
MOTM: 9
POTM: 1
England:
Match Played: 2
Goal: 4
Assist: 0
Euro 2016
Match Played: 6
Goal: 13
Assist: 4
MOTM: 6
Season 14/15 stats:
Match Played: 35
Goal: 45
Assist: 12
MOTM: 9