After the tense battle with Fulham, Arthur decided his players deserved a break. He wasn't the kind of manager to treat his squad like machines, no matter how much modern football tried to turn them into ones. So, despite the fact that another game was waiting just four days later, he handed out a full day off.
Of course, this wasn't just Arthur being generous. He knew what was coming. From the next match onwards, Leeds United were about to enter a schedule so ridiculous that even circus jugglers would look at it and say, "That's a bit much, isn't it?"
This was the Premier League season's infamous fixture gauntlet, and Leeds, still fighting on four fronts, were right in the thick of it.
The madness would begin on September 20th, with a flight to Portugal. Their first stop? The Estádio José Alvalade, the roaring green cauldron that belonged to Sporting Lisbon. That was where their Champions League group stage adventure would kick off.
But here's the kicker—after that match, there was no chance to savor the atmosphere or take in a pastel de nata on the Lisbon streets. No, Leeds would immediately pack up, fly overnight back to England, and crash-land in Berkshire.
One single day of rest in Berkshire, and then boom—on the 22nd, the seventh round of the Premier League against Reading would hit them square in the face.
Did it stop there? Of course not. After the Reading match, Leeds wouldn't even get the chance to go home. No cozy beds, no rest in familiar surroundings, just another plane ride, this time to London, where they'd face Chelsea in the League Cup.
Then, after the Chelsea clash? A single day to breathe before Liverpool rolled into town for a Premier League showdown at Elland Road.
Arthur stood back and looked at this murderous list of fixtures. If this were last season, he wouldn't have even thought twice. The League Cup would've been tossed aside like an old sandwich. Who cared about that tinpot trophy when it could drain his players dry before the really important competitions—the Premier League and the Champions League?
But this season… things were different.
Arthur couldn't stop thinking back to the Community Shield against Chelsea. That match had given him something he didn't expect: confidence. Proper, chest-thumping confidence. He had seen his squad go toe-to-toe with one of the richest clubs in the world and come out standing tall.
So even though he hadn't said a word about it publicly—no manager in his right mind would announce something this bold—Arthur had started whispering about it in private chats with Simeone and Rivaldo. Late at night, in the quiet corners of Elland Road, over coffee and sometimes beer, he'd talk about it with a mischievous glint in his eye:
"The quadruple."
Four trophies. All of them. Premier League. Champions League. FA Cup. League Cup. A clean sweep. The kind of feat that even in video games made players laugh nervously and say, "Yeah, good luck with that, mate."
And yet, Arthur couldn't shake the idea.
He knew exactly where the fire had been lit. It had been back at Goodison Park, before the opening match of the season against Everton. He was walking through the tunnel, feeling the smell of fresh-cut grass and hearing the boos of the home fans, when it happened again.
That cold, metallic voice in his head.
[Ding! Mission triggered: Defending and Hegemony!]
The system had returned, as calm and smug as ever.
[Task content: Congratulations to the host for leading Leeds United to win the Premier League championship in the 2006-2007 season. This is a good start! But this is just the beginning. The host still has a long way to go to make Leeds United a world-class giant, and defending the league championship in the new season is the first step the host needs to take!]
[Task Reward: Diamond Treasure Box (upgradeable 4 times)]
Arthur nearly tripped over his own boots in the tunnel. Another bloody treasure chest.
The system wasn't joking around. Last season's miracle title win had already gotten him one outrageous reward, and now it was upping the stakes. The task was simple on paper: defend the Premier League title. But Arthur knew "simple" was never simple in football.
Still, what made his pulse quicken wasn't the mission itself—it was the reward. A Diamond Treasure Box. Four upgrade levels.
Arthur didn't even bother asking the system how the upgrades worked. He already knew. He'd dealt with this sneaky AI long enough to see the pattern.
Defend the Premier League title? Diamond. Add another trophy on top of that? Boom, Star Treasure Box. Win three? King Treasure Box. Sweep the whole bloody table with four? Glory King Treasure Box—the highest of the high.
Arthur remembered what he'd pulled from the Diamond Treasure Box last time: the [Lore Card]. That thing alone had been game-changing, a once-in-a-lifetime miracle item. If that was what a Diamond box could cough up, what kind of absurd, world-breaking power would come out of a Glory King Treasure Box?
The thought made Arthur grin like a madman in the tunnel. Imagine opening that chest and finding something like a card that let him swap Lionel Messi into his lineup for a week. Or maybe one that guaranteed a referee gave Leeds every single penalty appeal. Or, hell, a cheat code that made all his players immune to injury.
No matter what it was, he wanted it. Badly.
So the conclusion was obvious. He couldn't treat the League Cup like trash anymore. He couldn't shrug off any competition. This season, every single piece of silverware mattered.
The schedule might look like suicide, but Arthur wasn't about to blink. Leeds United weren't just going to survive it—they were going to attack it head-on.
Because for Arthur, this wasn't just about football anymore. This was about treasure boxes, glory, and turning Leeds into a legend that even future generations would talk about in disbelief.
And with that thought, he clenched his fists and muttered under his breath:
"No matter what… this championship must be fought for."
*****
Time rolled on quickly, and before anyone could blink, September 20th arrived. This wasn't just another day in the football calendar — this was the start of the 2007–2008 Champions League group stage. The grand stage was back, the anthem ready to echo across Europe, and Leeds United were right there, sharpening their boots for another run at glory.
Arthur had been preparing for this moment for weeks. On the 18th, he had already led his team into Lisbon, giving them a couple of days to settle in before their opening clash against their first group opponent: Sporting Lisbon.
Now, to fans outside Portugal — especially those watching from Asia or America — Sporting weren't exactly considered one of Europe's big sharks. If you asked them what Sporting Lisbon was famous for, most would reply not with titles, but with names: Luís Figo, Cristiano Ronaldo, Nani. This club wasn't so much remembered for what it won, but for what it produced. Stars seemed to graduate from their academy like clockwork. And with Nani just having moved to Manchester United that very summer, everyone was wondering: who's next?
Still, Arthur knew this wasn't a side to underestimate.
Sporting might not have Real Madrid's bank account or Milan's aura, but they were competitive. Ruthless at home. Their head coach, Paulo Bento, was a representative of Portugal's so-called "Golden Generation" — a young manager with sharp suits and sharper tactics. He had the respect of the dressing room, and his team reflected his steel.
It was a totally different kind of opening compared to last season's Champions League debut against PSV Eindhoven. Back then, Leeds had been green, untested, unsure of their place among Europe's elite. But this time? They arrived in Lisbon like a team that had been through the wars and come out stronger. One season had transformed them.
The outside world noticed it too. Pundits across England, Spain, and Germany generally tipped Leeds as favorites heading into this clash. And the reasoning was obvious: Sporting's squad simply wasn't filled with household names anymore. Their biggest jewel was a young captain, João Moutinho, who at 21 was already pulling the strings in midfield and earning comparisons to some of Europe's brightest prospects. But outside of him? The team lacked star power.
But Portugal itself had other ideas.
The local press weren't buying into the foreign hype. To them, Sporting Lisbon were a team in form. They had been flying since the season started, dropping points only once — and that was away against Porto, the reigning league champions. At home, they were unbeaten and sharp. Add in the intimidating Alvalade atmosphere, and the Portuguese insisted their side had every chance against Leeds.
So, when Arthur and his squad landed in Lisbon, they weren't just greeted by fans — they were mobbed by the Portuguese media, eager to hear what the English champions' eccentric manager had to say.
And Arthur… well, he didn't disappoint.
The first reporter jumped in quickly, thrusting a microphone into his face almost before he cleared customs.
"Coach Arthur, what do you think of this game?"
Arthur barely blinked. His response was dry, blunt, and delivered with a smirk.
"What do I think? I think we're going to win. No other opinion except victory."
The Portuguese reporters blinked. That was bold. But not shocking — after all, what kind of manager would admit he was coming to lose? Even Sporting's Paulo Bento had confidently told the press he believed his side could win three points at home.
So far, so normal.
But then came the second question.
"Which player from Sporting Lisbon do you think poses the biggest threat to Leeds United?"
Arthur paused. He rubbed his chin like a man searching for a polite answer and then shrugged.
"To be honest, if Nani were still here… or if Cristiano Ronaldo was still at Sporting… I'd say one of them without hesitation. But now? Uh… maybe Moutinho, I suppose."
That hesitation, that little "maybe," was like blood in the water.
Immediately, one of the Portuguese reporters leaned forward, microphone practically stabbing at Arthur's chest.
"Mr. Arthur, from what you've said, it sounds like you don't believe João Moutinho can pose much of a threat to Leeds. Is that what you mean?"
Arthur nearly rolled his eyes. Seriously? I was trying to be polite…
His expression twisted into that classic mischievous grin that Leeds fans loved and opposing media hated.
"As expected of a journalist — you've got sharp ears. Yes, you're right. Strictly speaking, I don't think Moutinho will cause us much trouble."
The room practically exploded. Reporters gasped, others exchanged looks of disbelief, and one particularly brave voice shouted back immediately.
"Mr. Arthur, aren't you being a little too confident? Moutinho became captain of Sporting at only 21! In midfield, he's considered one of the rising stars of Europe!"
Arthur's grin only grew wider. He leaned into the microphones like a comedian about to deliver a punchline.
"Genius, you say? Interesting word. But tell me something — do you know Leeds United's nickname in Europe?"
The reporter hesitated, scratching his head.
"Nickname? Uh… Black Shop?"
Arthur's face darkened instantly. He almost swore on the spot, biting back the words before they slipped.
"No! Not that nonsense. Haven't you heard? Since last year, Leeds United has been called the 'Concentration Camp of Geniuses!'"
He spread his arms wide as though presenting his squad to the heavens.
"If Moutinho truly is a rising genius, then let's be honest — he shouldn't be at Sporting Lisbon right now. He should already be in Leeds United!"
For a moment, silence hung in the air. Then the room buzzed with angry murmurs and frantic scribbling in notebooks. The Portuguese press had their headline, and Arthur had just poked the bear.
But as always, he didn't care. He turned on his heel, gave a cheeky little wave to the stunned crowd of journalists, and marched off, leaving his assistants behind to mop up the chaos.