Whoosh!!!
The Bernabéu exploded.
Cristiano Ronaldo rose above everyone, hanging in the air before burying his header into the net.
The roar that followed shook the entire stadium.
Ronaldo wheeled away, sprinting toward the corner flag before leaping into his signature celebration — arms outstretched, chest wide, soaking in the noise of ninety thousand voices.
A last-gasp winner for Real Madrid.
In stoppage time, Ronaldo had done it again — breaking Arsenal hearts and firing Madrid into the Champions League Final.
On the other end, Kai was crouched on the turf, breathing heavily, sweat running down his face and dripping from his chin.
He'd given everything — the endless pressing, the lung-busting runs, the relentless challenges. His legs felt like lead; even jumping now felt impossible.
As Ronaldo jogged past him, he flashed a smirk. "You couldn't get up for that one, could you?"
Kai shot him a weary glare but said nothing. He just let out a long breath and looked around.
It was over.
The whistle blew moments later.
Real Madrid 3, Arsenal 1.
Aggregate score: 4–3.
Real Madrid were through to the Champions League Final. Arsenal's valiant run had come to an end.
Still, no one could say they'd gone out without a fight.
Even without Suarez, they'd pushed Madrid to the brink with courage, structure, and spirit.
At the Bernabéu, of all places, they'd made the Spanish giants sweat.
On Sky Sports, Martin Taylor's voice was calm but full of admiration.
"Not every defeat is a failure. Arsenal may be out, but across these two legs, they've earned respect. They've taken Real Madrid all the way and shown a level of maturity and unity we haven't seen from them in years."
Alan Smith nodded beside him.
"Absolutely, Martin. This side's different. They're still young, still raw in places, but there's resilience here — a sense of belief. Wenger's built something real. You can feel it."
"Even in defeat," Martin added, "they've reminded us why people fell in love with Arsenal's football in the first place."
Down on the pitch, the cameras cut to Kai, still catching his breath. He looked exhausted — but not broken.
Cazorla sat nearby, staring blankly at the celebrating Madrid players — envy and frustration flickering in his eyes.
A hand landed gently on his shoulder.
"Come on," Kai said quietly. "Let's thank the fans."
Cazorla took a deep breath, nodded, and pushed himself up.
Kai moved along the pitch, calling the others over. One by one, they gathered and began walking toward the away end together.
At the front, Vermaelen led the applause, clapping above his head.
The Arsenal fans — those few thousand brave souls in the top corner of the Bernabéu — responded in kind, standing, clapping, and singing even louder than before.
They had lost the match — but not their pride.
"Gunners! Well played!"
"You were brilliant out there!"
"Keep your heads up!"
"Come on, Arsenal!"
The voices echoed through the stadium, raw and sincere.
Martin Taylor's tone softened as the camera lingered on the Arsenal players applauding the fans.
"You can see what it means to them, Alan. They've come a long way this season."
"They have," Smith replied. "And Kai — what a performance from him tonight. The lad's growth has been outstanding. The way he's handled Ronaldo across both legs, his composure, even his willingness to drive forward — Arsenal have found themselves a real leader."
"And Wenger," Martin added, "will know he's got the foundations for something special."
At that moment, under the bright lights of Madrid, Arsenal's players stood together — exhausted, defeated, yet somehow triumphant in spirit.
Kai could tell that his teammates were hurting inside, yet they still turned around to applaud and comfort the traveling fans. Watching them, he couldn't help but feel that the supporters were truly something special.
They hadn't reached the final, but they'd earned something far more lasting — belief.
And as the fans continued to chant "We love you, Arsenal!", Kai turned one last time toward the stands, raised his hand, and smiled faintly.
After a collective bow of gratitude to the away section, the players began to head off toward the tunnel.
Just as Kai was about to follow, a familiar voice called out behind him.
"Kai!"
He turned to see Sergio Ramos walking over. Instinctively, Kai's shoulders tensed slightly, his eyes narrowing in caution.
Ramos quickly raised both hands and smiled. "Easy, I come in peace. Just wanted to swap shirts. That was a hell of a match."
Realizing there was no ill intent, Kai relaxed and nodded. "Congratulations," he said courteously.
Ramos handed over his jersey, then smirked. "Ever thought about coming to Real Madrid?"
Kai grinned as he pulled off his own shirt. "You come to Arsenal! I'll sort everything out for you!"
Both men laughed, understanding each other without needing to say more. Neither said "no," but the message was clear enough.
As Ramos walked away, Cristiano Ronaldo stepped forward.
"How many times a week do you do leg training?" Ronaldo asked out of the blue.
Kai blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. "Three times a week. One of those sessions is high intensity."
Ronaldo nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense. You've got strong balance and lower-body strength. I could feel it during our duels—you don't get pushed off easily."
Then, after a pause, he added, "You've got a personal coaching team?"
Kai shook his head. "No. But our assistant coach doubles as my personal trainer."
Ronaldo raised an eyebrow. "An assistant coach as a personal trainer? That's… quite something."
Kai chuckled, and Ronaldo extended a hand. "Spectacular match."
Kai took it firmly. "Congratulations."
One by one, Real Madrid's players came over—Modrić, Casillas, Di María, Benzema—all offering their hands in respect. Arsenal might have lost, but Kai's performances over both legs had earned their admiration.
When he finally entered the dressing room, the atmosphere was quiet. The players were packing their bags in silence, lost in thought.
Kai showered quickly, then pulled out his phone and sent a short message to Fernando.
Good luck with tomorrow's match!
Later that evening, the Arsenal squad boarded a flight back to London. Their Champions League journey was over.
But the season wasn't.
Their focus now shifted entirely to the Premier League. Arsenal sat top of the table—two wins away from lifting the trophy.
Though there was disappointment in being knocked out of Europe, there was also relief. For this young team, the Champions League was always meant to be a learning experience—a dress rehearsal for the future.
And to have reached the semi-finals? That was already beyond expectation.
If they'd pushed harder, they might have ended up empty-handed, but giving up earlier would've been just as painful. So they'd fought to the end—and now, they could walk away with their heads held high.
Back in London, the mission was clear: finish the job.
Two games. Maximum effort.
For Kai, this could be his first Premier League title—and he wasn't about to let it slip away.
Meanwhile, across Europe, headlines were already rolling in:
Kicker:"Arsenal fall narrowly to Real Madrid—a spectacular clash!"
Marca:"Madrid through to the final! The Gunners pushed us to our limit—a worthy opponent, says Modric."
Madrid Sports News:"Cristiano Ronaldo: This was our toughest win of the Champions League season!"
London Sports News:"A storm is brewing in North London—and its name is Arsenal!"
...
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