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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
And everyone inside Arsenal knew that in the Champions League, nothing was truly finished until the final whistle of the second leg.
The days that followed Arsenal's unforgettable European night passed in a careful balance between recovery and maintaining momentum.
London Colney never stayed in celebration mode for long.
There were always another opponent waiting.
Another challenge demanding complete focus.
Although newspapers across Europe continued praising Arsenal's 4-0 victory over Manchester City, inside the training ground the conversation gradually shifted elsewhere.
Southampton.
Premier League.
Another three points available.
Another step towards the title.
The coaching staff understood the situation perfectly.
The second leg against Manchester City still lay ahead, but overlooking Southampton would undo much of the hard work Arsenal had built throughout the league campaign.
When the players gathered in the analysis room two days later, Wenger stood beside the tactical board with his usual calm expression.
"We earned an excellent result in Europe."
He paused briefly.
"It stays there."
He pointed behind him, almost as though leaving the Champions League in another room.
"Now…"
"…we play Southampton."
The squad listened attentively.
Wenger continued.
"There will be changes."
Several players exchanged knowing glances.
The schedule had been relentless, and rotation was inevitable.
"We trust every member of this squad."
He smiled.
"And now they have an opportunity."
Saturday afternoon brought another packed Emirates Stadium.
Supporters arrived carrying the confidence created by Wednesday night's triumph, but there was also curiosity.
Many expected changes.
They weren't disappointed.
When the starting line-up appeared on the giant screens, applause echoed around the ground.
Petr Čech retained his place in goal.
Ahead of him, Nacho Monreal, Shkodran Mustafi, Rob Holding and Héctor Bellerín formed an entirely different back four.
Aaron Ramsey partnered Jack Wilshere in midfield alongside Santi Cazorla.
Further forward, Alex Iwobi started on the left, Bukayo Saka was given another opportunity on the right, while Olivier Giroud led the line.
Francesco, Alexis Sánchez, Mesut Özil, Kanté, Xhaka, Van Dijk, Walker and Raya are on the bench.
Inside the dressing room before kick-off, Wenger looked around at the rotated side.
"This is why we have a squad."
He looked directly at Saka.
"Enjoy the occasion."
Then at Holding.
"Trust yourself."
Finally at Giroud.
"Lead the line."
The French striker nodded confidently.
"I will."
Nearby, Francesco was already changed into his match kit despite beginning among the substitutes.
He nudged Giroud with a grin.
"Make my job difficult."
Giroud laughed.
"I intend to."
From the bench, Francesco watched Arsenal begin brightly.
Southampton defended compactly but weren't content simply to sit back.
They pressed intelligently whenever Arsenal tried building from defence.
Ramsey dictated much of Arsenal's rhythm during the opening exchanges, while Wilshere constantly looked to drive through midfield with the ball at his feet.
Beside Francesco, Walker leaned back comfortably.
"It feels strange sitting here."
Francesco smiled.
"A little."
"I've forgotten what substitutes do."
"We watch football."
"Oh."
"I thought we just annoyed the coaches."
Francesco laughed.
"That too."
The breakthrough arrived midway through the first half.
It began with Wilshere dancing away from two Southampton midfielders before slipping possession into Cazorla.
The Spaniard, playing with his familiar elegance, immediately spotted Bellerín charging into space down the right.
The full-back delivered an inviting cross towards the six-yard box.
Giroud had already anticipated it.
He rose above his marker with impeccable timing.
His powerful header flew beyond the goalkeeper and nestled inside the far corner.
Goal.
Arsenal 1-0 Southampton.
The Emirates rose to its feet once again.
Giroud sprinted towards the corner flag before being surrounded by teammates.
On the bench, Francesco applauded enthusiastically.
Walker pointed towards Giroud.
"He definitely made your job difficult."
"He said he would."
"I respect that."
Southampton refused to disappear.
Instead of allowing Arsenal complete control, they responded with determination.
Their equaliser arrived before half-time following a well-worked move that caught Arsenal during a rare defensive lapse.
The visitors celebrated enthusiastically.
Wenger remained calm.
He simply folded his arms and watched.
"Keep playing," he called.
"No panic."
The first half eventually ended level.
1-1.
Inside the dressing room, Wenger's message remained composed.
"We're creating chances."
"We continue."
Then he turned towards several substitutes.
"Francesco."
The captain immediately looked up.
"You'll be ready."
Francesco nodded.
"Always."
The second half began with renewed energy from Arsenal.
Ramsey increased the tempo.
Wilshere continued driving through midfield.
Iwobi repeatedly isolated his defender on the left.
Southampton, however, remained organised.
After nearly an hour, Wenger made his move.
The fourth official raised the electronic board.
Number 12.
Olivier Giroud.
Number 9.
Francesco.
The Emirates applauded both players.
As Giroud reached the touchline, he exchanged a quick handshake with Francesco.
"Your turn."
"You've already done your part."
"Finish it."
"I'll try."
Giroud smiled.
"No."
"You will."
Francesco's impact was immediate.
His movement forced Southampton's centre-backs deeper, creating additional space for Ramsey and Cazorla between the lines.
Within minutes he had already tested the goalkeeper with a low strike from the edge of the area.
Walker, watching from the bench, leaned towards Xhaka.
"He's impatient."
Xhaka chuckled.
"That's what strikers are."
The goal eventually arrived.
Ramsey recovered possession inside midfield before feeding Cazorla.
Without even looking, the Spaniard flicked a delightful pass around the corner into Francesco's path.
He accelerated beyond Southampton centre back before entering the penalty area.
The goalkeeper rushed out.
Francesco remained perfectly composed.
One touch.
Then another calm finish into the bottom corner.
2-1 Arsenal.
The Emirates erupted once more.
Francesco raised both hands towards the supporters before teammates rushed across.
Ramsey wrapped an arm around him.
"I knew you'd score."
"You sound like Kyle."
"That's either a compliment or an insult."
"I'm still deciding."
The bench laughed.
Walker looked proudly towards everyone.
"I've taught him well."
"You've taught nobody anything," Xhaka replied.
Southampton responded again.
To their credit, they never stopped attacking.
A dangerous set piece eventually produced another equaliser.
2-2.
The visitors celebrated passionately.
There were still plenty of minutes remaining.
Wenger immediately looked towards his players.
"Stay calm."
"There is time."
No one panicked.
If anything, Arsenal simply increased the tempo once more.
The final decisive moment belonged to one of the youngest players on the pitch.
Bukayo Saka had worked tirelessly throughout the afternoon.
He had tracked runners.
Pressed defenders.
Continued asking for possession despite several difficult moments.
Now, in the closing stages, his reward arrived.
Iwobi collected possession near the left touchline before driving directly at Southampton's defence.
Rather than forcing an early cross, he waited patiently.
Saka recognised the opening instantly.
He darted inside from the right.
Iwobi spotted him.
A perfectly weighted pass rolled into his path.
The youngster struck first time.
The ball flew beyond the goalkeeper before crashing into the back of the net.
For a split second, Saka simply stood frozen.
Then reality arrived.
His first Premier League goal.
His face lit up with disbelief.
"I've scored!"
He sprinted towards the corner flag before disappearing beneath a mountain of celebrating teammates.
Francesco reached him first.
"There it is!"
"I can't believe it!"
"You'd better believe it now."
Iwobi arrived laughing before embracing the youngster.
"I told you to keep making that run."
"You saw me."
"Of course I did."
The Emirates gave Saka a standing ovation that lasted almost a full minute.
Even Wenger allowed himself a broad smile on the touchline.
Academy graduates always meant something special.
The remaining minutes proved tense.
Southampton threw bodies forward searching for one final equaliser.
Holding produced two crucial interceptions.
Mustafi blocked an effort bravely.
Čech claimed several dangerous crosses with his usual authority.
Finally, the referee blew for full-time.
Arsenal 3.
Southampton 2.
Another victory.
Another three precious points.
The rotated squad had delivered.
As the players applauded the supporters, Wenger made a point of congratulating every substitute and starter alike.
Inside the dressing room, the atmosphere was understandably cheerful.
Saka sat quietly at first, still almost overwhelmed.
His match ball rested beside him.
Walker walked over carrying a bottle of water.
"First Premier League goal."
Saka nodded, smiling from ear to ear.
"It still doesn't feel real."
Walker placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Enjoy it."
"You only score your first once."
Francesco walked over a moment later.
"You'll remember today for the rest of your life."
Saka looked down at the ball before smiling.
"I think you're right."
Giroud laughed from nearby.
"Just don't forget who softened them up first."
The dressing room erupted into laughter.
"You really don't miss a chance," Ramsey joked.
Giroud shrugged dramatically.
"A striker protects his statistics."
The following morning, London Colney felt unusually quiet.
Instead of another training session, Wenger had made a decision that everyone appreciated.
A day off.
Complete rest.
Recovery.
Time with family.
Time away from football.
Before the players left, however, Wenger gathered them briefly.
"You've earned tomorrow."
A few smiles immediately appeared around the room.
"But…"
Everyone laughed.
"There it is," Walker whispered.
"The famous 'but.'"
Wenger smiled knowingly.
"But after tomorrow…"
"…our full attention returns to Manchester City."
The room immediately settled.
Everyone understood.
The Etihad awaited.
A four-goal advantage was significant.
It was not a guarantee.
"You've all seen enough football to know how quickly momentum changes," Wenger continued.
"We've given ourselves an outstanding opportunity."
"Now we must finish the job."
Francesco nodded quietly.
"So no complacency."
"Exactly."
The Frenchman looked around the room.
"We prepare as though the score is nil-nil."
There wasn't a single disagreement.
The day off passed peacefully.
Some players spent time with their families.
Others stayed home to recover.
Several visited the training ground for optional treatment before leaving again.
Francesco enjoyed the rare chance to relax with Leah and Cheddar, keeping football conversations to a minimum.
Yet even during quiet moments, the upcoming trip to Manchester lingered somewhere in the back of his mind.
By the following morning, everyone was back at London Colney.
The atmosphere had changed once again.
The laughter remained.
Walker still found opportunities to joke.
Saka was congratulated repeatedly for his first Premier League goal.
Giroud continued insisting he deserved partial credit.
But underneath it all was a renewed sharpness.
The Champions League quarter-final second leg was approaching.
Manchester City would be waiting at the Etihad Stadium.
They would be wounded.
Dangerous.
Determined to overturn a four-goal deficit.
Arsenal arrived carrying a commanding advantage.
Not confidence born from arrogance.
Confidence born from preparation.
Every cone placed on the training pitch.
Every tactical instruction.
Every video analysis session.
Every sprint.
Every pass.
Everything now pointed toward one destination.
Manchester.
Ninety more minutes.
One final step that separated Arsenal from the Champions League semi-finals.
As the mood at London Colney changed the moment the day off ended.
The laughter from Southampton's victory was still there.
Saka was still receiving congratulations every time someone walked past him.
Giroud continued claiming that Arsenal's win had only happened because he had softened Southampton up before Francesco came on.
Nobody believed him.
That didn't stop him from repeating it.
Yet beneath the jokes, everyone understood something important.
Manchester City awaited.
And unlike the first leg, this time Arsenal would be walking into the Etihad Stadium.
A four-goal advantage sounded enormous to everyone outside the club.
Inside London Colney, it sounded like something that could disappear if they lost their concentration.
No one needed reminding of the quality Guardiola possessed.
No one underestimated City's ability to score goals in quick succession.
On Monday morning, the first team gathered in one of the analysis rooms.
The lights dimmed as Steve Bould switched on the projector.
Instead of showing Arsenal's goals from the first leg, the opening clips focused entirely on Manchester City's attacks.
Gabriel Jesus and Aguero movement between the centre-backs.
Kevin De Bruyne's passing range.
David Silva drifting into spaces that barely seemed to exist.
Leroy Sané's pace before his substitution.
Every dangerous moment City had created at the Emirates appeared on the screen.
Bould paused the footage.
"They still created chances."
He looked around the room.
"Don't let the scoreline fool you."
Another clip rolled.
De Bruyne receiving possession near the halfway line.
Within seconds he had released Jesus behind the defence.
Only Čech's quick reaction had prevented a goal.
Bould froze the image.
"This."
"This is why the tie isn't finished."
Nobody argued.
Wenger stood near the front of the room with his hands folded.
"We defended well."
"But we can defend even better."
His eyes settled on Van Dijk and Koscielny.
"They'll attack from the first minute."
"They have no alternative."
Van Dijk nodded.
"We'll be ready."
The meeting lasted almost an hour before the squad headed outside.
The spring sunshine had finally begun replacing the cold winds that had dominated recent weeks.
The pitches looked immaculate beneath the clear blue sky.
Training started without the ball.
Fitness coach Tony Colbert led the squad through a series of dynamic stretches before introducing repeated sprint drills.
Nothing especially long.
Nothing designed to exhaust them.
Everything was about sharpness.
Explosiveness.
Maintaining intensity.
Walker looked across at Robertson during one sprint.
"Race you."
Robertson sighed dramatically.
"You say that every week."
"And?"
"You still lose."
Walker looked horrified.
"I've chosen to forget those occasions."
The whistle sounded.
Both full-backs exploded forward.
Several teammates immediately began laughing before the race had even finished.
Robertson crossed the line first.
Again.
Walker bent over, hands on his knees.
"I demand another attempt."
"No."
"Best of three?"
"No."
"Best of five?"
Robertson grinned.
"I've got training to finish."
Even Wenger couldn't hide a smile from across the pitch.
Once the fitness work ended, the footballs finally appeared.
The tactical exercises immediately became more focused.
The starting eleven from the first leg returned together.
Čech.
Robertson.
Van Dijk.
Koscielny.
Walker.
Kanté.
Xhaka.
Özil.
Alexis.
Gnabry.
Francesco.
Opposing them was a mixed group wearing yellow bibs instructed to imitate Manchester City's pressing system.
Steve Bould called instructions continuously.
"De Bruyne closes here."
"David Silva arrives inside."
"Fernandinho steps forward."
The exercise forced Arsenal to play through relentless pressure.
One touch.
Two touches.
Quick movement.
No hesitation.
Whenever possession was lost, Wenger immediately stopped play.
"Again."
The drill restarted.
It happened repeatedly throughout the morning.
By lunchtime, every player had probably rehearsed escaping City's press dozens of times.
During the water break, Kanté sat beside Francesco.
"They'll press even harder."
"I know."
"They'll have to."
Kanté smiled faintly.
"Which means more space behind them."
Francesco nodded.
"If we stay patient."
The French midfielder tapped his water bottle against Francesco's.
"We stay patient."
The afternoon session moved inside.
Recovery.
Ice baths.
Massage treatment.
Nutrition.
Nothing glamorous.
Everything important.
While waiting outside the treatment room, Walker sat beside Saka.
"So."
"First Premier League goal."
Saka smiled sheepishly.
"I've watched it three times."
"Only three?"
"I didn't want to seem obsessed."
Walker looked offended.
"Rookie mistake."
"You should watch it at least twenty."
Francesco walked past carrying his recovery shake.
"Don't encourage him."
Walker looked entirely serious.
"I'm helping his development."
"By increasing his screen time?"
"Confidence is important."
Saka couldn't stop laughing.
The second day of preparation carried an even greater sense of focus.
This time there were no cameras from club media following training.
No promotional interviews.
The gates around the main pitches remained firmly closed.
Everything centred on Manchester.
The tactical session began with defensive organisation.
City's likely attacking patterns were recreated over and over.
Bernardo Silva drifting inside.
Sterling making diagonal runs.
De Bruyne switching play.
Guardiola's possible adjustments were discussed in detail.
"We cannot assume they'll play exactly the same way," Wenger reminded them.
"They'll take risks."
"They'll overload midfield."
"They may even change formation."
Xhaka looked towards the magnetic board.
"So we react."
"We don't panic."
"Exactly."
Later that morning, Arsenal practised defending set pieces.
Every corner.
Every free-kick.
Every second ball.
Van Dijk dominated aerially as usual.
Giroud somehow managed to score against Čech during one practice corner before immediately celebrating far more enthusiastically than necessary.
"I've broken the defence!"
Walker applauded sarcastically.
"Someone call UEFA."
"They'll cancel the quarter-final."
Giroud pointed proudly towards himself.
"I've given the manager something to think about."
Francesco laughed.
"You definitely have."
"What?"
"How to stop your celebrations."
The laughter briefly eased the tension before training resumed.
By the end of the second day, there was little left to rehearse.
The work had been done.
Now it became about arriving mentally and physically fresh.
Matchday minus one arrived.
Players reported to London Colney carrying small overnight bags rather than full training equipment.
The atmosphere felt noticeably different.
Travel days always did.
Breakfast was served together inside the players' dining area.
Conversation drifted naturally between football and ordinary life.
Robertson discussed a television series he had recently started.
Ramsey complained that Walker somehow kept spoiling every episode.
"I guessed one ending."
"You guessed the last episode."
"It was obvious."
"It wasn't!"
"It was."
Francesco quietly finished his coffee while listening to the familiar banter.
Around him, nobody looked nervous.
Focused, yes.
But not anxious.
There was a quiet confidence running through the squad.
Not because they believed the job was already done.
Because they trusted the preparation.
At around mid-morning, Wenger gathered everyone briefly.
"Bags on the coach in ten minutes."
"Check your passports."
Walker immediately patted every pocket of his tracksuit.
"I've definitely forgotten something."
Robertson didn't even look up.
"You say that every trip."
"It's part of my routine."
"It really is."
Ten minutes later, Arsenal's team coach rolled away from London Colney.
Training staff occupied the front rows.
Players gradually settled into their usual seats.
Francesco took his familiar place beside the window.
Outside, Hertfordshire slowly disappeared behind them as they headed toward the airport.
The journey passed quietly.
Some players listened to music.
Others watched tactical clips on their tablets.
Özil sat reading.
Kanté looked out of the window almost the entire journey.
Walker managed to remain quiet for almost fifteen minutes.
Then he leaned over the aisle.
"Anyone fancy a prediction?"
Ramsey looked up.
"I predict you'll start talking."
"I already have."
"Exactly."
The bus erupted into gentle laughter.
Security procedures at the private terminal moved efficiently.
Airport staff greeted the Arsenal delegation before escorting them directly toward the waiting aircraft.
Supporters standing behind the barriers applauded as the players walked across the tarmac.
Several children called out for autographs.
Although time remained limited, Francesco, Saka and Giroud briefly stopped to sign a handful of shirts before boarding.
Inside the aircraft, everyone settled quickly.
The flight to Manchester wasn't long.
Barely enough time for lunch.
Still, travelling together always strengthened the feeling that European away matches were something special.
Cabin crew served light meals shortly after take-off.
Francesco sat opposite Özil.
The German glanced out of the window.
"I always like this part."
"The travelling?"
"The feeling."
"You're leaving home for something important."
Francesco smiled.
"And coming back hopefully even happier."
Özil nodded.
"Hopefully."
Before long, the captain's announcement confirmed their descent into Manchester.
Clouds drifted beneath the wings as the aircraft gradually lowered.
Soon the runway appeared.
A gentle touchdown.
Another step toward the second leg.
Outside the terminal, Arsenal's second team coach was already waiting.
Equipment staff quickly transferred luggage into the storage compartments before everyone climbed aboard.
The weather in Manchester greeted them with grey skies and a cool breeze.
Walker looked through the window dramatically.
"I've missed this."
Robertson raised an eyebrow.
"The clouds?"
"The lack of sunshine."
"You need help."
"I've accepted that."
The journey into the city took around half an hour.
Police motorcycles occasionally escorted the coach through busy intersections.
Supporters recognised the Arsenal bus at several traffic lights.
Some waved.
Others held phones against the windows, recording the players as they passed.
Francesco noticed a young Arsenal fan wearing his shirt standing beside his father outside a petrol station.
The boy spotted the coach and immediately lifted both arms.
Francesco smiled and waved back.
The child jumped excitedly.
Moments like that never really became ordinary.
Eventually the coach turned into the entrance of the team hotel.
Hotel staff stood waiting outside beneath the covered entrance.
Luggage disappeared onto trolleys almost immediately.
Inside, the lobby felt elegant but calm.
Large chandeliers illuminated polished marble floors.
Fresh flowers decorated the reception area.
Everything had already been prepared for Arsenal's arrival.
Players collected their room keys before naturally gathering near one side of the lobby.
Nobody wandered off.
They knew Wenger still had something to say.
The Frenchman waited until everyone had arrived before speaking.
"Gentlemen."
His voice carried easily through the quiet lobby.
"We've travelled well."
He looked around the group.
"Today and tomorrow, there will be no physical training on the pitch."
Several players exchanged glances.
Instead, Wenger continued.
"I want everyone fresh."
"Our work is already done."
"We don't gain fitness now."
"We only risk losing players."
A few heads nodded.
"So instead of field sessions…"
"…you'll use the hotel gym."
"Maintain the body."
"Light work only."
"Mobility."
"Stretching."
"Activation."
"No heavy lifting."
"No unnecessary competitions."
At those last words, Wenger looked directly at Walker.
The entire squad burst into laughter.
Walker placed a hand against his chest.
"Boss."
"I'm deeply offended."
"You should be."
Even Wenger smiled.
"I know this group."
"I'm preventing problems before they begin."
Walker looked toward Robertson.
"There goes my bench press challenge."
Robertson replied instantly.
"You weren't winning anyway."
More laughter echoed around the lobby.
When the room settled again, Wenger's expression became slightly more serious.
"Eat well."
"Hydrate."
"Rest."
"If anyone needs treatment, the medical room will remain open."
He paused before delivering one final reminder.
"And remember…"
"The score is four-nil."
"It is not six-nil."
"It is not eight-nil."
"It is four."
"We respect Manchester City."
"We respect this competition."
"We finish what we started."
Silence followed.
Not uncomfortable silence.
The kind that came when every player understood the importance of what had just been said.
Francesco looked around at his teammates.
Nobody appeared overconfident.
Nobody acted as though a place in the semi-finals had already been secured.
They had earned an outstanding advantage at the Emirates.
Now they had to protect it.
Wenger gave a small nod.
"Enjoy the evening."
"I'll see everyone at dinner."
The players gradually dispersed toward the lifts, conversations beginning again as they headed to their rooms.
Outside, Manchester remained overcast.
Somewhere across the city, the Etihad Stadium waited.
The next night would decide whether Arsenal's magnificent performance in North London became merely a memorable first leg or the foundation of a place in the UEFA 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: 48
Goal: 60
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