God Of football-Chapter 358: Just 2 Days

Izan arrived home feeling the weight of the long session settling into his body.

The shower helped, warm water washing away the exhaustion, but the real reset came when he sat down for dinner.

A simple meal—nothing too heavy, just enough to replenish what he'd burned off earlier.

After eating, he leaned back on the couch, scrolling mindlessly through his phone when a notification popped up.

Pedri added you to 'Fantastic Four'.

Izan raised an eyebrow before tapping in.

Inside the chat were three familiar names—Pedri, Lamine Yamal, and Nico Williams.

Pedri: "Alright, the gang's all here."

Lamine: "Why did you name it Fantastic Four?"

Nico: "Because he thinks he's Mr. Fantastic."

Pedri: "Nah, that's Izan. The way he stretches through defenses."

Izan: "…"

Lamine: "😭😭"

Nico: "Nah, nah, he's right though. My guy moves like he's made of rubber."

Izan: "I'm not even gonna entertain this."

Pedri: "Too late. Welcome to the Fantastic Four."

Izan shook his head, amused. The conversation veered off into random jokes—Lamine complaining about preseason drills.

Nico sending a clip of some ridiculous skill move he pulled off in training, Pedri acting like he had seniority over all of them just because he was slightly older.

It was light, easy banter—nothing forced. Just four young players who had already shared enough moments on the pitch to form something natural.

After a while, one by one, they started dropping off.

Lamine: "I'm out, early training tmrw."

Nico: "Same."

Pedri: "Rest up, we've got a big season coming."

Izan: "Yeah, see you guys."

The chat went silent. Izan put his phone down, exhaling as he leaned back.

Tomorrow was a rare free day. No training. No meetings. Just time to reset.

He didn't plan on wasting it.

.....

Over the next few days, Arsenal's training ground became a testing lab for Arteta's tactical shifts.

The first session had its rough patches. Players were adjusting, learning new roles, figuring out the balance between defensive responsibility and attacking freedom.

Izan, though, adapted like he had been playing this system for years.

He wasn't just operating as a pure attacker—he was dropping deep, linking up, and even rotating positions with Declan Rice when the midfield needed control.

By the second day, the changes started clicking. The movements became more natural, the passing lanes clearer.

The players weren't just following instructions anymore; they were feeling the game.

Izan's influence grew with each session. His passing range was becoming a real weapon.

He wasn't just playing safe or obvious passes—he was slicing through defenses with unexpected switches, curling through balls, and disguised passes that turned static situations into instant goal-scoring opportunities.

One moment stood out on the third day.

During a high-intensity drill, Izan received the ball under pressure, close to Arsenal's defensive third.

Instead of forcing a clearance or a simple outlet pass, he shifted his body, feinted one way, and then released a stunning diagonal ball across the pitch.

It traveled past three Arsenal shirts, bending perfectly into Saka's path on the right flank.

With one touch, Saka controlled and immediately squared it across goal, where Jesus slotted it home.

A few of the defenders just stood there, shaking their heads.

"Bro, what was that?" Saliba muttered, a mix of disbelief and admiration in his voice.

Izan just shrugged. "Just a pass." By the fourth day, Arsenal's new shape was starting to feel like second nature.

The defenders understood when to shift, the midfield controlled the tempo, and the attack had more unpredictability.

Arteta, watching from the sidelines, couldn't help but smile.

This was different. Izan had given them something new, something dynamic.

The other clubs that hesitated on him?

They had no idea what they missed.

"Okay. Let's end here" Arteta said after the finished another attacking and defending sequence.

...…

In the evening, the players filed into the video analysis room, some carrying bottles of water, others stretching their necks or rolling their shoulders after another demanding training session.

The atmosphere was focused—two days remained before their first preseason match against Leyton Orient, and they were here to break things down before stepping onto the pitch.

Arteta stood at the front, arms crossed, waiting until the last few stragglers took their seats.

Once everyone had settled, he nodded to one of his assistants, who dimmed the lights before starting the session.

The screen lit up with clips—some of their own training sessions, others showing Leyton Orient's patterns of play from the previous season.

Arteta let the footage roll for a few moments before pausing it, turning to face the squad.

"We've worked on the adjustments," he started, his voice even.

"We've tested different structures, moved players around, and experimented with rotations. Now, we see what it looks like in a real match situation."

Some players exchanged glances. The past few days had been intense, filled with repetitions and tactical shifts that pushed them out of their comfort zones.

Izan, who had naturally slotted into different roles across those sessions, sat quietly, watching Arteta with a focused expression.

The next clip played—a sequence from their training. Izan had dropped deeper than usual, switching positions with Rice for a moment before launching a pinpoint pass that cut through the lines, leading to a goal.

Arteta let it play out before pausing again.

"This," he gestured to the screen, "is the kind of control we want in transitions. We are not just attacking with pace—we are dictating the game."

The footage shifted to Leyton Orient. They weren't a high-pressing side, but they compacted the midfield and tried to play on the counter whenever possible.

Their wingers were quick, and their striker liked to drift off the last defender, looking for gaps to exploit.

"They will sit deep," Arteta continued, "they will try to frustrate us, and they will look for mistakes. That is their way of competing. Ours is different."

He paused, glancing around the room.

"This match is an experiment. But it's still a match." His tone didn't change, but the implication was clear. Experiment or not, Arsenal were expected to win.

The players understood. Even in preseason, results mattered.

Arteta gave a final nod. "Tomorrow is a rest day. Use it well. Because when we step onto that pitch, I want to see everything we've worked on put into practice."

With that, the session ended, and the players began filing out, minds already turning toward the game ahead.

⸻

Izan stepped out of the locker room, exchanging nods and brief goodbyes with his teammates before calling for his car.

The evening air was cooler now, a welcome contrast to the intensity of the past few days.

He leaned back against the seat as the car pulled away, his mind still running through the final bits of Arteta's tactical breakdown.

By the time he got home, the exhaustion from training had set in, but he still picked up his phone for his now-regular video call with Hori and Komi.

His sister's excited voice filled the screen before her face even fully appeared.

"Onii-chan, Arsenal is playing… what was it called? Leyton Orange?"

Izan raised a brow, biting back a smile. "Leyton Orient."

"Same thing," she huffed, waving it off. "They're a small team, right? Arsenal will win easy."

This content is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

Komi sighed in the background. "Hori, don't underestimate teams just because of their league."

"But Arsenal is Arsenal," Hori argued.

Izan chuckled. "She's got a point, but we still have to be careful. It's a test game for us too."

Hori seemed satisfied with that answer and changed the subject, talking about her school and how Komi had been making her eat healthier.

They were in the middle of laughing over something when Izan's phone buzzed with another call—Miranda.

Komi noticed immediately. "It might be important. Pick up."

Izan nodded and switched the call.

"Miranda," he greeted.

"Izan," her voice came through smoothly. "Busy?"

"Just finished talking to my Mum and Hori. What's up?"

"Wanted to check in," she said. "How's training? Think you'll be picked for the match?"

Izan exhaled, glancing out the window. "Training's been intense, but good. The system changes are a lot, but everyone's adapting.

As for the match… I don't know yet. I'm new, and it's just a preseason game, so we'll see."

Miranda hummed in thought. "Well, if you do play, it'll be your first time in an Arsenal jersey. Kind of a big deal."

Izan shrugged, though he knew she was right. "Yeah. But I'll only focus on that if my name's on the squad list."

Miranda chuckled. "Practical as always. Alright, I won't keep you. Get some rest, and if you get picked—make sure you put on a show."

Izan smirked. "That's the plan."

He ended the call and leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a moment before finally getting up to wind down for the night.

A/n: Damn. I'm feeling sleepy. Anyways have fun reading and I'll see next time for another great chapter.

Also, Thank you guys for the gifts and for the support and everything you do. I'll try to make this novel one of the best you've ever read. 🙃