"Are you going to sleep?" ca a feminine voice as the sound of a couch being relieved of its pressure echoed slightly in the dimly lit room.
The man, who was being questioned, turned to face the woman and his wife of 10 years before bobbing his head to the side.
"Well, the ga is already done," the wife said in silent protest before looking over at the petite body lying on the lap of her husband!
The husband followed her gaze towards what had been a bundle of joy ever since she ca into their lives, before turning back and smiling slightly towards the wife.
"I’ll carry her to her room and join you soon," he echoed next with pleading eyes, and eventually, the wife gave in, but not without sighing heavily.
"Just be in early. I do not want to be the one to drag you to bed," she said, seemingly tired, before going down a few tres of silently creaking floors and then closing a door behind her a mont later.
The husband then turned to face the television, where a new but not unfamiliar graphic was plastered across.
Arsenal 4–0 West Ham United.
The graphic lingered there with Arsenal’s crest on one side and West Ham’s on the other before the graphic gave way to the post-ga production, where the host leaned back slightly in his chair, fingers pressed together, watching the replay of the fourth goal loop silently behind them.
"Seven from seven folks," he said at last while sighing heavily for effect.
"Twenty-one points from twenty-one. Thirty-three goals scored since the start of the season and just 2 goals conceded. It was never expected to be close tonight, and it wasn’t."
Imdiately after his words, he turned to his right, nodding slightly towards one of the guests on his show for the night!
"But what we’re looking at here isn’t just a strong start. It’s sothing else entirely, and from how it is looking at the mont, it’s not too crazy to assu that Arsenal might be retaining their title."
The pundit the host had looked at earlier, a forr midfielder who still carried himself like he could step onto the pitch tomorrow, nodded slowly.
"It’s still too early to say, and we don’t really know what might happen, but truly, it’s absurd," he said.
"Thirty-three goals in seven league matches. That is levels unheard of because if we are to go by this, Arsenal could be scoring at the very least 120 goals at the end of the season, and truly, they’ve never looked stoppable to once."
He tapped the desk lightly with his knuckles.
"And not so suprising, Izan has twenty-one of them. Twenty-one and it’s still the fourth of October. Funny thing is, I thought he was 20 already because of how it feels like I’ve known him for forever, but that boy is still 17 and doesn’t fully beco an adult until late November!"
The second pundit shifted in his seat, arms folded.
"It’s a truly wonderful," he said. "It’s unlike anything we’ve seen before, but the league will eventually catch up! We’ve seen it before with Arsenal themselves scoring 33 goals back in 2009, though it was in the first 10 gas of the season and Manchester City doing 36 in also 10 gas."
The first pundit looked at him sharply.
"Catch up?"
"I’m saying," the second continued, doubling down, "that context matters. Arsenal are flying. They’re confident. But not so untouchable like many think."
The host interjected gently.
"Nineteen goals before tonight. A brace off the bench makes it twenty-one. Eight assists as well."
"Twenty-eight goal contributions," the first pundit said imdiately. "On matchday seven. In the Premier League."
He leaned forward now, voice tightening.
"This isn’t a soft league. Defenders don’t roll over. Midfields don’t give you space out of kindness. The ga is getting more and more rigid, and yet he’s involved in twenty-eight goals already. Out of thirty-three. There have only been five goals all season where he hasn’t scored or assisted."
The second pundit exhaled through his mouth.
"Yes, let’s not pretend the league isn’t competitive. The Premier League remains the benchmark. Players are struggling out there, and eventually everyone does."
Before the second pundit could continue, the first raised a hand.
"No one’s denying that."
He then turned slightly toward the main cara.
"But don’t get it twisted. The league is on top. Sure. The intensity, the pace, the quality. It’s brutal. But he’s just 10 levels better. That’s the uncomfortable truth."
The host watched the exchange carefully, letting it breathe.
"Erling Haaland has nine," the second pundit offered. "Nine in seven is still strong. Very strong."
"And yet it looks small," the first replied without hesitation.
"That’s the problem. Nine would lead most seasons at this stage. But twenty-one? Twenty-one makes everything else look normal. Izan is making the league look like a ’football for dummies’ book."
He shook his head, almost amused.
The second pundit leaned forward now, a hint of frustration creeping in.
"Football doesn’t stay like this. It adjusts. And I am sure they’ll find ways, in the next season if not this one!"
"They already are," the first shot back. "He’s the first na on every defensive eting sheet. And it’s not working. So now even Europe resorted to paperwork to stop Izan because he’s kept them on tenterhooks from the past season and looks like doing it again with Arsenal this season!"
The second pundit’s posture softened slightly.
"Please don’t speculate because we don’t have a verdict yet, and no one is trying to take anything from Izan when he’s just won the Ballon d’Or. I’ll admit," he said quietly, "even the ones thriving right now, they’re not near this level. Not statistically. Not in impact."
He then glanced toward the host once more.
"But football has cycles. There will be a dip."
"Maybe," the first said. "Maybe there will, but that is sothing I want to talk about 15 years from now because it is only going to be more, ’gold, gold, gold’ for Izan."
He looked straight into the lens again, voice steady now rather than heated.
"Right now, we’re watching sothing without a rival. We like to pretend there’s a race. We like to build narratives. Haaland versus this one, Mbappé versus that one. Yamal versus him. It makes good television."
He spread his hands.
"In reality? There isn’t a single player in the world touching him at this mont. Not in output. Not in influence."
The first leaned back into his chair.
"And if this is October," he added, almost to himself, "then the sumr is going to be fun."
/Swiishh/
"That’s enough out of ya," the man said as he turned the television off and got out of his seat.
"Let’s get you and to sleep before mommy cos to kill us," he followed up as his daughter stirred in his arms, wiggling as if she was trying to find a more comfortable sleeping spot in his arms.
....
On another muted wall so distance away, Arsenal’s fourth goal replayed again.
Dr Keller stood by the window with his phone pressed to his ear, glasses resting low on his nose.
He did not look at the screen directly, but the movent of it reflected faintly in the glass.
"Are you done with the statent?" the voice on the other end asked.
Keller nodded once before answering, as if the caller could see him.
"Yes," he said, calm and certain.
"It’s been reviewed twice. There’s nothing to add."
Keller turned slightly, finally facing the screen.
"All samples were clean," he continued. "Blood panels. Hormonal markers. Recovery trics. No irregularities. No synthetic enhancents. Nothing from their nutrition plan either. We examined it thoroughly."
"They’re just... precise."
After a little hum, the call ended without ceremony.
And by morning, the statent had been published.
The headline was plain, with no dramatics or evasive language.
UEFA’s official release detailed testing with randomised samples, even though the ti fra had only been about 5 days.
Still, the statent talked about how they would still be keeping tabs with a follow-up, but at the mont, there was nothing out of the ordinary.
No prohibited substances were detected in any Arsenal player tested.
No irregular biological markers.
No banned compounds traced in supplents, als, or recovery drinks.
One paragraph described the club as "a side operating at a level of tactical and physical precision that, while exceptional, remains within natural human variance."
Another line categorised their recent dominance as "a convergence of elite conditioning, structural clarity, and individual performance peaks and understanding."
And then, near the end, a smaller section left by Dr Keller had a specific ntion.
"If it is Izan we are discussing," the statent read, "all data confirms no biological abnormality beyond what can be attributed to rare athletic developnt and exceptional performance trics."
The final line was less clinical.
"He is, in the simplest terms available to us, an anomaly. And not one the world is likely to grow accustod to anyti soon."
A/N: Hello, guys, this is art here. I hope life has been well for you guys and girls. I just dipped didn’t I. ^_____^. I am really sorry about that. I had a lot on my plate these past couple of weeks, especially the past week, where I had to write an exam while going through so things and trying to figure it out. I can’t say I have figured it out, but I do have so free ti now as my schedule has returned to normal, though I doubt I will be going back to my previous release of 14 Chapters per week for this book. All I can promise is just the one per day and then hopefully an extra or two on the weekend because of how I am juggling both books. This is Chapter 999, and it really goes to show how far we have co and truly from the bottom of my heart. Thank you, guys. I ca into writing this book mainly because I couldn’t get any to read, but I am glad you guys liked my imagination. Thanks for all the love, the gifts and the effort you put into reading, and I will make sure to at the very least, close out this book for your sake. Thank you very much!
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