"The match is over! Borussia Dortmund have failed to defend their home ground, and the resilient Gunners once again claim victory over another European heavyweight!"
Martin Taylor said as the final whistle blew.
From start to finish, Arsenal's discipline and organization had been remarkable.
Solid in defense, ruthless on the counter — they controlled the game almost entirely.
Dortmund tried everything to crack Arsenal's structure, but they never truly came close.
In this fierce midfield battle, Arsenal had emerged as clear winners.
"Brilliant stuff!"
Kai shouted with a grin, and laughter broke out among the Arsenal players as they hugged and cheered.
After toppling Bayern Munich, they'd now conquered Borussia Dortmund — another milestone in their European run.
And what thrilled them even more was how much better they'd played compared to their group stage performances.
"Lovely finish again, Luis!" Kai grinned, patting Suarez on the shoulder just as Szczęsny walked over with a wide smile.
"You should really quit smoking, mate," Kai teased.
Szczęsny chuckled. "If every match went like this, I wouldn't need a cigarette to calm down!"
"Oi, are you saying our defense used to give you stress?" Koscielny shot back with mock outrage.
"I didn't say that," Szczęsny shrugged, "but you did."
The room burst into laughter. Even Koscielny couldn't help but grin sheepishly — they all knew he wasn't entirely wrong. Before Kai's arrival, Arsenal's defense had been a bit of a shambles.
"Alright," Kai said finally, waving an arm. "Let's head back. The Dortmund fans won't be too happy if we start celebrating on their turf."
The team laughed and followed him toward the tunnel.
Back in the dressing room, the celebrations continued — singing, clapping, even a few dance moves — before Wenger returned from the press conference. Only then did they start preparing for the flight back to London.
Normally, Wenger would give them a day off after such a big European win. But not this time.
The Premier League title race was still tight, and Arsenal couldn't afford to relax.
Even so, the mood was electric. They were exhausted but elated — because, after all, who doesn't love the Champions League nights?
That night, European headlines were painted red and white:
Terrifying Gunners! Consecutive Wins Over Last Season's Champions League Finalists!
Bundesliga's New Nemesis!
Arsenal's performance had finally earned full recognition across Europe.
After beating Bayern, many doubted whether they could maintain that level. They saw Arsenal as promising, but not yet capable of contending for the Champions League.
Now, those doubts were gone.
First Bayern. Then Dortmund.
No matter how strong the opposition, Arsenal were bulldozing through them with authority and precision.
And at the center of it all was Kai.
Against Dortmund's talented midfield, including Reus and company, he had been everywhere — intercepting, pressing, dictating tempo.
Germany's Kicker magazine even dedicated a feature to him, headlined:
The Terrifying Ball-Winning Machine!
Their article read:
"Anyone who has watched Arsenal in the Champions League will understand this — Arsenal have a wall, a relentless ball-winning machine.
We often doubt the hype from British media about their 'next big thing,' but in Kai's case, there's no exaggeration whatsoever.
His performance tonight was the decisive factor in Dortmund's defeat. When Arsenal's ball-winning machine gets into gear, no attacking line can withstand the pressure.
Wenger deserves immense credit — he lost his captain and midfield anchor not long ago, yet within two years, he's developed an even more formidable successor.
If the old Arsenal were a gunslinger's team, the new Arsenal is a German tank with a sports car engine — a strange but thrilling combination."
Kicker rarely opened special columns for young players — the last one, notably, had been for Paul Pogba.
It could be said that any young player featured in Kicker's special column wasn't just talented — they represented genuine long-term potential.
And while Kicker was a German outlet, its reporting remained notably fair.
There was no over-the-top hype, no deliberate bias — just honest football journalism.
The same couldn't be said for the British press. They had already elevated Kai to near-mythical status.
As the most commercially driven football nation in the world, the British media knew exactly how to draw attention — and revenue.
They could smell a headline the way a shark smells blood in water.
And right now, Kai was the biggest story in English football.
A 20-year-old midfield prodigy.
Captain of one of England's biggest clubs.
Dominating both the Premier League and the Champions League.
For the London media, he was big bucks.
But then, a message from Buckingham Palace sent the entire country into a frenzy.
"Humility, Justice, Valor, Honesty, Compassion, Sacrifice, Honor, Soul. He is our Knight!"@LeKai
The tweet came from the Buckingham Palace official account, usually reserved for royal announcements or family photos.
The wording — poetic, grand, and oddly emotional — stunned everyone.
Those eight virtues listed were known as the traditional chivalric code of a knight.
And in football circles, everyone immediately connected the dots.
The Queen of England — known quietly to be an Arsenal supporter — had just praised the Gunners' young captain in a way that felt almost… ceremonial.
Speculation spread like wildfire.
But within hours, the tweet vanished — deleted without explanation.
Most believed it had been sent impulsively, perhaps by the Queen herself in a rare moment of excitement.
Still, thousands of screenshots had already been taken.
By morning, the nickname was everywhere across Britain.
"The Queen's Knight."
...
"I don't want to be any knight!" Kai groaned, tossing the newspaper aside.
The Arsenal dressing room burst into laughter.
Several of his English teammates looked half-jealous, half-amused.
"Come on, mate," joked Wilshere. "You'd look great in a suit of armor."
"Yeah," added Gibbs, "riding a horse into the Emirates!"
Kai shook his head. "You lot can keep your armor. Being called an old lady's knight just feels… wrong."
"Careful," Chamberlain smirked. "That old lady can take away your labor cert, Captain."
More laughter followed, echoing through the locker room.
Kai could only grin helplessly.
"Alright, lads! Medical check-ups, let's move!"
Pat Rice's voice cut through the chatter as he stepped into the room.
One by one, the players got up and headed toward the medical room.
As the season entered its final stretch, every detail mattered — fitness, recovery, form. Arsenal couldn't afford a single injury now.
Dr. Gary and his staff carried out the examinations swiftly. The overall results were acceptable — not perfect, but manageable.
It was the natural toll of a long, intense season. Minor knocks, tight muscles — nothing too alarming.
But Wenger wasn't taking chances.
He had already reduced the training intensity, allowing players more rest and controlled workloads.
For once, the Frenchman was in visibly good spirits. Consecutive wins had lifted the weight that had hung over him for so long.
No one in football enjoyed losing — least of all Arsène Wenger.
And now, watching his team finally clicking, finally growing into something formidable, he felt vindicated.
Even Szczęsny's gesture had moved him — the Polish keeper had walked into his office, placed his lighter and cigarettes on the desk, and said simply:
"Boss, I'm done with this. I'll quit."
Wenger had looked up, startled at first. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face.
"Good," he'd said softly. "That's a start."
He knew the reason.
Victory had its own kind of addiction.
And right now, every Arsenal player was hooked.
...
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