From Arsenal to the Ball God

”Get off the training ground immediately!”

Wenger’s tone was decisive, even though he hadn’t meant to lose his temper on a day meant to symbolize ’new hope’ on the training ground.

This was supposed to be a perfect day, with two young talents reporting to the team and setting Arsenal on the right track after completing their first training session, all for the same goal.

Instead, Fabregas repeatedly provoked them, clearly intending to make them uncomfortable and spark conflict.

”Make Barça pay the price I want, and then you can get lost.”

Wenger gritted his teeth and spoke these words, different from before, with no intention of compromising, nor any thoughts of keeping this Spanish midfield genius.

But when he said these words, looking at the disciple he had spent 8 years with, once even having a honeymoon period, it was inevitable to feel some heartache...

”That’s your business!”

Fabregas dodged the topic, aware that Barcelona didn’t want to pay too much for him, preferring to press Arsenal to accept a 35 million euro offer.

Realizing this made him feel a slight blow to his self-esteem.

But he wanted to go to Barça, play under Guardiola, become teammates with those top stars, and win the Champions League!

”I would leave even if you didn’t say it.”

Fabregas stood cold-faced in front of Wenger, glaring at him: ”And don’t think of using methods like sidelining or banning to deal with me, I’d rather not play at all.

”Anyway, I already have a European Cup and a World Cup, while you have nothing but a few league titles from many years ago!”

As he finished the last sentence, Fabregas’s expression slightly shifted, and a sense of regret and shame that shouldn’t have surfaced emerged.

It seemed, even he was aware that he shouldn’t speak to Wenger like that.

They had spent too much time together day and night, and even if he didn’t want to admit it, Wenger was like another father to him in a foreign land...

In the tug of war between Arsenal and Barça, his pride was hurt, and he felt unprecedented torment and irritability.

But he dared not express his accumulated anger towards Barça; rather than destroying that alluring place, he preferred to speak the coldest and most cutting words to his ’father.’

Vent his dissatisfaction, release all his irritability and grievances!

Is it because they are closer?

No, perhaps his heart had long been used to Wenger’s tolerance and love, always feeling that after each conflict, they would reconcile as before.

”You...”

Wenger wanted to raise his hand to point at him, but found himself seemingly devoid of all strength, overwhelmed by an unprecedented sense of heartbreak, as if someone had stabbed his chest with the sharpest knife and twisted it.

”Are you crazy?!”

Gilbert dashed out from behind, filled with disbelief: ”Don’t you even want to keep this last shred of dignity? What good will this do you?”

If Fabregas still held a shred of respect for Wenger, he didn’t have any for Gilbert.

”Who... are... you?”

He squinted with indifference, feigning ignorance despite knowing, and shouted angrily: ”What right do you have to speak to me like this? I have a World Cup, a European Cup, a Golden Boy Award, what do you have?”

”Championship League title?! Haha....”

Gilbert’s face quickly turned red with anger, too young and hot-headed to know how to retort, leaving only his chest heaving.

”Remember this!”

Fabregas stepped forward, right up to Gilbert, pressing his forehead against his, ”At 18, I played far better than you ever will; you’ll never reach my level in your life!

”With your skills, you can’t even secure a starting spot in a middling Premier League team, you’ll spend your life with trash teams! Pfft!”

With that, he pushed forward with his forehead, causing Gilbert to stumble backwards.

”What is he doing?”

”He shouldn’t be....”

Under the shocked gazes of everyone, Fabregas turned and walked along the edge of the training ground, unafraid that Gilbert might dare to confront him again.

Who is he?

And Gilbert?

Where no one was watching, Ma’el’s hands started to tremble slightly, anger reaching its peak as he watched Fabregas’s arrogant back.

His mind slowly went blank, and his legs moved uncontrollably to the equipment area, where he picked up a hurdle bar and quickly walked over to Gilbert.

”Break it.” He handed one end to Gilbert, holding the other in his hand, eyes fixed in the direction of Fabregas’s departure.

Gilbert’s eyes were already red. He turned to look at Ma’el, placing one hand on the hurdle bar.

The two of them pulled in opposite directions, breaking the already fragile hurdle bar, ending up with three bent plastic rods.

”Today.”

Ma’el picked up a stick, tightly gripping it in his right hand, and walked towards Fabregas, ”Let me stand up for you.”

He started by walking quickly, then gradually picked up pace, running towards Fabregas!

It was only then that everyone realized what he was going to do; over twenty Arsenal players and coaching staff all had their mouths agape.

Is this... going to get physical?

”Hey!”

”Don’t be impulsive!”

”Hey!”

They quickly called out, trying to stop Ma’el, but to no avail.