Chapter 647: The Team To Beat

Chapter 647: The Team To Beat

[Next morning ]

The Arsenal team bus pulled through the familiar black gates of London Colney, engines humming low beneath the drizzle that had started to fall.

The sky was pale grey, a soft post-storm tone, the kind that made the world feel like it was finally exhaling after the chaos of the night before.

Inside the bus, the players were quieter than usual—tired, satisfied, and not quite ready to process what they’d done in Eindhoven.

Some leaned back in their seats with headphones still in, others scrolled through their phones, watching clips of themselves that had already racked up millions of views.

Mikel Arteta stood near the front as the bus came to a stop, arms folded, his eyes calm but alert.

“Right,” he began, voice cutting through the quiet like a warm blade, “I don’t need to say much today. You already know what you’ve done. History doesn’t need my commentary.”

A few chuckles rippled down the aisle as he let the pause linger just long enough.

“But remember,” he continued, “this doesn’t end here. Chelsea is next. And they won’t care what you did last night. They’ll come to make a point,” he paused, breathing in for a bit.

Then, “We are the team to beat now and they will try to delay or spoil our title ambitions. So rest today—sleep, eat, recharge. Then tomorrow, we’re back for recovery. Normal time. Be sharp.”

The players nodded, a few clapped softly as they rose from their seats.

Arteta gave a small smile before stepping off first into the drizzle.

One by one, the squad filed out, boots scuffing against the wet pavement, staff guiding them toward their cars or calling out instructions for the next day’s sessions.

Izan lingered near the back, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he descended the steps.

His body still ached from the overload of the night before.

System-boosted or not, he could feel the strain in his shoulders, the subtle stiffness in his spine—but that couldn’t take away the euphoria of the win.

As his trainers hit the ground, his eyes immediately scanned the lot.

He saw his Gemera parked like he had left it but now with a little black tent set up over it.

“Miranda,” he muttered before texting her that he had arrived.

Immediately, a reply came with Miranda telling him that the SUV was in the parking lot.

Izan immediately snapped his head back up and looked around for a bit.

The vehicle was there—parked neatly by the edge, windows fogged slightly from the cold—but something about it made him pause.

The driver’s seat was reclined.

A small shape was curled slightly, chin to shoulder.

Izan blinked, then stepped closer.

It was Olivia.

Head tilted, coat bundled around her like a cocoon, she was fast asleep in the driver’s seat, her breath fogging the glass.

Her phone was on her lap, screen dimmed, as if she’d been texting someone—maybe him—before sleep took over.

She must have been waiting for a while.

Izan smiled, almost involuntarily.

He walked up to the door, leaned slightly toward the window, and gently pinched her nose through the glass.

Her face scrunched a bit and then she blinked awake, startled, disoriented—until her eyes met his, and her lips pulled into a sleep-heavy grin.

She rolled down the window halfway.

“Rude,” she mumbled, rubbing her nose.

“You fell asleep in my ride,” he said, smirking.

“I came to pick you up,” she said, half a protest, half a yawn.

“But you took forever.”

“And now you’ve hijacked it.”

She laughed and reached out through the open window, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, hugging him from the car.

“You broke another record, didn’t you Mr. Record Man?” she said into his jacket with a little chuckle.

“Finally, you get these memes,” Izan said and just held her there for a moment, the warmth of her arms a grounding contrast to the cold air and chaotic noise of the last twelve hours.

Then she pulled back and shivered.

“Get in. It’s freezing.”

He opened the passenger door and climbed in.

The interior was warm.

Olivia had left the heating on low, and music still played faintly through the speakers—some indie playlist she liked for drives.

Izan leaned back, letting the quiet soak into his skin.

She glanced at him once they were both settled.

“How’s your body?”

“Sore,” he said honestly. “But I’ll live.”

“You always say that,” she said as she reached over and took his hand in hers, lacing her fingers through his.

The car soon hummed softly, the outside world blurring behind windows fogged with warmth.

Somewhere, people were still talking about his goals.

Still dissecting his records.

Still trying to figure out how a teenager had made Europe bend to his will.

But here, it was him and her.

…

Friday – Afternoon,

The call came in just after 2 p.m.

Miranda’s phone buzzed quietly on the low table in the lounge, where she, Komi, Izan, and Olivia had gathered in a quiet cluster after Izan’s training session.

The mood had been cautious all day.

Everyone had been waiting.

Miranda didn’t even check the caller ID.

She simply reached for it with a trembling hand, as if she already knew.

“Dr. Selwood,” she said, answering on speaker.

The voice on the other end was warm and composed.

“Yes. Just calling to let you know that Leo’s transplant went very well. No complications. We’re monitoring him closely in recovery, but all early signs are extremely promising.”

Miranda closed her eyes and exhaled so slowly, it was almost soundless.

Olivia was the first to react—grabbing Izan’s hand and squeezing it hard.

Across from them, Komi’s shoulders slumped, and he let out a long, shaky breath.

“Thank you,” Miranda managed, voice thick.

“We’re… really glad. Truly.”

She looked up then, eyes flicking to Izan.

He hadn’t said a word since the call began.

Just sat there, index finger tapping an uneven rhythm against his leg.

Now he finally looked up, meeting Miranda’s eyes—then nodded once.

Komi was the one to break the silence.

“Well,” he said, stretching his arms and rising, “you’ve been fidgeting like a robot waiting on an update for hours. Leo’s stable now—so maybe it’s time you stopped dodging that other duty.”

Izan blinked. “What duty?”

“Your sister,” Komi said, pointing at him.

“School. You haven’t picked her up once since she started. So go on. Be a big brother again.”

Olivia leaned toward him with a soft grin.

“I’ll come with you.”

As Izan stood, Komi called out from behind him, just as he reached the hallway door.

“And for heaven’s sake—take the SUV. No need to scare every teacher in the parking lot.”

Izan raised a hand in vague acknowledgment, but didn’t answer.

Ten minutes later, a low, rumbling thunder rolled across the parking lot like a distant storm.

Miranda gave a small, amused shake of her head.

Olivia, now lacing her boots beside the glass exit, smirked.

“You knew he wasn’t listening, right?”

Komi was already walking toward the glass, peering out toward the lot.

“I knew. But I hoped.”

From behind the trees, the silver and blue blur of the Koenigsegg Gemera pulled out smoothly, its engine snarling like some restrained predator.

Olivia, once outside, slipped into the passenger seat a moment later, throwing a wink to whoever might’ve been watching from the windows.

Izan didn’t look back.

The butterfly doors lowered, the car shifted, and then they were gone—swallowed by the long stretch of road ahead.

…….

Friday – Afternoon, Brookewood Private Academy

Hori stepped out of her classroom just as the school bell rang its final note, trailing behind two girls in perfectly ironed uniforms who were giggling about something that had happened in science class.

As the polished campus lawn slowly emptied, the roundabout drive filled with sleek cars and parental greetings.

Some kids waved, others made polite bows before being shepherded off by waiting drivers.

Hori stood off to the side of the main drop-off path, thumbs tapping at her phone.

She wore a calm face, but her eyebrows betrayed a twitch of impatience.

“Mum, are you here?”

Sent.

The reply came almost instantly, not from her mother, but from Izan.

“Oni-Chan is on the way..”

Hori sighed, lips twitching downward.

That didn’t sound promising.

And almost as if the universe had perfectly timed the entrance for maximum drama, the distant snarl of an engine cut through the faint chatter of school staff and idle conversations.

Heads began to turn as the growl deepened and got closer now—less like a car, more like something untamed being coaxed into town.

Then it appeared.

The Koenigsegg Gemera rolled around the turn with a sleek, commanding grace, silver and blue paint glinting beneath the afternoon sun.

It slid to a stop right in front of the academy’s polished steps—low, long, and unapologetically loud.

Hori didn’t even look up at first.

She just tilted her head forward and pressed her fingers to her temple.

“Oh God,” she muttered.

A/n: Another one for my readers. Have fun and I’ll see you in a bit

Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know.