The moment the final whistle sounded in Berlin, North London exploded.
Across the capital's pubs, from Highbury Corner to Islington and into central London, Arsenal fans congregated in large numbers.
Inside one crowded establishment near Highbury, a middle-aged supporter raised his pint and exclaimed, "Finally! After all these years, we're the kings of Europe! Le Kai and the lads did us proud tonight."
His companion, visibly emotional, responded, "I told you Wenger's project would deliver!"
"WE'VE DONE IT!"
"CHAMPIONS OF EUROPE!"
"Oh, my God! Arsenal actually did it!"
Laughter and tearful chants reverberated throughout the venue as dozens of fans crashed into each other. Tables shook violently as people screamed at the giant television screens.
One middle-aged supporter covered his face with both hands before bursting into choking sobs.
"I waited twenty years for this," he uttered. "Twenty bloody years!"
Next to him, another fan climbed onto a chair while waving a red-and-white scarf above his head.
"No more Paris jokes!"
"No more 'European failure' nonsense!"
"We're finally on top!"
"F**k Chelsea!"
"F**k Spurshit!"
"North London is forever red, damnit!!"
The entire pub broke into song.
"North London foreverrrrr!"
Outside, car horns echoed nonstop through the streets.
Red flares lit up the night sky around the Emirates Stadium long before the players had even left Berlin. Thousands of supporters flooded the area around the stadium, many climbing onto traffic barriers, bus stops, and lamp posts.
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Firecrackers exploded repeatedly in the distance.
The smoke from flares mixed with the cold London night air, turning the streets around the Emirates into a sea of red.
Police officers stood nearby watching the celebrations with helpless expressions.
There were too many people.
An Arsenal supporter sprinted down the street waving a massive club flag behind him.
"WE DID IT, MATE!"
"WE'RE EUROPEAN CHAMPIONS!"
Near the Armoury store, fans had already begun chanting Le Kai's name.
"KAI! KAI! SUPER KAI!"
"He brought us the Champions League!"
"He's already a club legend!"
Along the London Underground, entire train carriages became moving celebrations.
Commuters in red and white attire engaged in animated conversation.
A woman in her thirties, holding a scarf, declared, "I was on my way home from work when I heard the final whistle. Turned around immediately – had to be here!"
Her fellow passenger responded with a broad smile, "Same here! Buses and trains are packed with us lot tonight. This is what we've waited for our whole lives."
Some passengers were standing on seats singing club chants while others blasted commentary clips from their phones.
A young fan wearing an old Thierry Henry shirt shouted toward the carriage:
"Who's sleeping tonight?"
"F**king no one!"
The entire train erupted in cheers.
At King's Cross Station, more supporters continued pouring into North London.
Some had left homes, bars, and restaurants across the city the second the match ended.
Others came directly from work, still wearing office clothes beneath Arsenal shirts.
One man in a loosened tie laughed as he spoke into his phone.
"Forget tomorrow, mate. I'm heading to the Emirates right now."
"You hear this atmosphere?"
"You can't stay home tonight!"
Buses heading toward Holloway became equally chaotic.
Drivers could barely hear announcements over the nonstop singing.
Even strangers hugged each other at traffic lights.
A woman leaned out from the upper deck window, waving an Arsenal scarf while people on the pavement cheered back at her.
Near Finsbury Park, fireworks exploded across the sky.
Supporters lit red smoke flares in the middle of intersections while chanting Wenger's name repeatedly.
"ARSÈNE WENGER!"
"He finally got it!"
"For the GAFFFERRR!"
Television cameras captured scenes all across London.
Outside pubs, supporters climbed onto statues and telephone boxes.
Inside restaurants, waiters abandoned trays to celebrate with customers.
Even local shop owners stood outside their businesses, smiling at the noise filling the streets.
Tonight did not belong to sleep.
Tonight belonged to Arsenal.
. . .
And elsewhere across England, rival supporters watched in misery.
In Manchester, one United fan stared blankly at the television before muttering:
"That's it then. We can never use the European banter again."
A Chelsea supporter groaned inside a group chat.
"Great. Arsenal fans are going to become unbearable now."
A Tottenham fan simply closed his phone entirely after seeing social media flooded with Arsenal celebrations.
Liverpool fans reacted more calmly, though many still admitted Arsenal had fully earned it.
Meanwhile, football social media descended into chaos.
Every old joke about Arsenal lacking European history instantly disappeared beneath waves of celebration posts.
Photos of Le Kai celebrating with his teammates were everywhere.
Videos of Arsenal fans crying inside pubs went viral within minutes.
One post gained hundreds of thousands of likes in less than an hour:
"No more debates."
"Arsenal are champions of Europe."
. . .
Back in North London, the celebrations only became louder.
The crowd continued to get bigger as the preparations for the trophy lift were underway in Berlin.
Songs echoed through the streets deep into the night.
Car horns continued blaring.
Flares continued burning.
And for the first time in the club's history, Arsenal stood at the very top of European football.
. . .
Whilst the celebration only began in London, the Arsenal players returned to the dressing room one after another to wash up and prepare for the ceremony ahead.
The atmosphere inside was still electric. Water bottles flew across the room, music blasted from the speakers, and laughter echoed through every corner. Winning the Champions League had pushed everyone's emotions to the limit, and no one wanted the moment to end.
Le Kai finished showering earlier than most.
As Arsenal's captain, he still had duties to complete. Before lifting the trophy, he needed to accompany Arsène Wenger to the post-match press conference.
By the time they arrived, the media hall was already packed.
Reporters from all over the world filled every seat. Cameras flashed nonstop as journalists waited for both finalists to appear. The entire football world was focused on Berlin tonight.
Four people attended the press conference.
Wenger and Kai represented Arsenal, while Allegri and Buffon represented Juventus.
The two captains sat in the middle.
They were the focal point of the night.
Kai glanced toward Buffon.
The veteran goalkeeper looked exhausted, disappointment written all over his face. At thirty-seven years old, Buffon had once again fallen short of the one trophy he desperately wanted most, the Champions League title.
But football had never been a place for sympathy.
Kai understood that better than anyone.
If compassion affected you on the pitch, then you had already lost before the final whistle.
Once the press conference officially began, the questions immediately focused on Kai.
Even if he hadn't scored the first goal of the game, his influence on the match had been enormous. Time and time again, he disrupted Juventus attacks with tackles, interceptions, and positional coverage. Arsenal's midfield remained stable because of him.
Many journalists believed he was one of the decisive figures behind Arsenal's victory.
A reporter from Bild asked:
"How would you evaluate this match and Juventus' performance tonight?"
Kai paused briefly before leaning toward the microphone.
"Even though we won, it was far from an easy match," he said calmly. "From the very beginning, Juventus created a lot of pressure and caused us many problems. It was a final worthy of the Champions League. Juventus played extremely well tonight."
He lowered his gaze slightly before continuing.
"But sometimes football comes down to small details, and tonight luck and the goddess of victory stood on our side."
The answer was humble and measured.
Buffon and Allegri both nodded slightly after hearing it.
Kai had chosen not to boast after victory, instead giving full respect to the opponent they had just defeated.
Later, when Buffon was asked about Kai's comments, the Juventus captain smiled bitterly before replying:
"Kai says Arsenal won because of luck, but that's just politeness."
"Yes, Arsenal were better than us tonight. That is why they are the champions of Europe. In a Champions League Final, luck alone cannot decide the result. Arsenal proved they were the stronger team."
The response earned immediate applause inside the press room.
The post-match press conference gradually wound down, the questions losing intensity as the main narratives had already been set.
Coaches from both sides offered polite praise, each sentence carefully measured, each compliment repeating the same idea in different words. In the end, it felt less like analysis and more like formality.
Reporters exchanged glances. There was nothing left to extract.
Someone in the back muttered that they missed a certain unpredictable manager who would have turned the whole room upside down. Tonight, however, even chaos felt unnecessary. Arsenal's victory already carried enough weight to dominate tomorrow's headlines.
The session ended without delay.
Le Kai and Buffon rose from their seats and shook hands at the center of the stage. Cameras clicked instantly.
Buffon let out a faint smile, tired but warm.
"If you ever decide to try another league," he said lightly, "Juventus would be a good place to experience football properly."
Kai responded with a small grin.
"Arsenal works fine for me. It depends on whether you are still chasing this trophy."
Buffon chuckled, shaking his head once, then released the handshake.
They walked together toward the tunnel, side by side for a brief moment, two captains from opposite ends of the result.
Inside the stadium, everything had already been prepared for the ceremony.
The Champions League stage stood under bright lights. Nearby, the trophy table remained untouched. The silver cup sat at the center, polished under the glare, reflecting fragments of the stadium roof and the movement of officials around it.
UEFA president Michel Platini stood near the setup with several executives, exchanging short conversations while waiting for the ceremony to begin.
Kai was briefly called forward for media photos and official presentation shots. Flash after flash lit his face as he stood beside UEFA officials, exchanging polite handshakes and brief words. Platini studied him for a moment longer than usual, then dismissed it as nerves from a young captain standing at the edge of history.
When the formalities ended, Le Kai returned to his teammates and waited.
The ceremony began.
First came the runners-up.
Juventus players stepped forward one by one. Silver medals were placed around their necks. Each player walked down the line with quiet expressions, some staring straight ahead, others lowering their gaze. The applause around them was respectful, but it could not hide the weight of disappointment.
For a club used to reaching finals, second place felt like a familiar but unwanted outcome.
They formed a line on both sides of the stage and watched.
Then the atmosphere shifted.
Arsenal were called forward.
The stadium reacted immediately.
Red and white flags rose in waves across the stands. Arsenal supporters clapped with force, many already shouting songs before the players even reached the steps. Phones were held high everywhere, recording every second.
Kai led his team up.
Michel Platini stepped forward with the gold medal.
"Fantastic match," he said with clear admiration, before placing it around Kai's neck.
Le Kai nodded, shook his hand, then stepped back into position.
The medals were distributed quickly across the squad. Every Arsenal player returned to their place, forming a line that faced the trophy.
The entire stadium seemed to tighten in anticipation.
The roar inside the arena grew heavier, deeper, more continuous.
Arsenal chants began to rise again, spreading from one corner of the stadium to another until it became a single unified sound.
The moment had arrived.
Le Kai walked forward alone.
The silver cup waited under the lights.
He stopped in front of it, staring for a brief second. The reflection of the stadium shimmered across its surface, bending the shape of the moment into something unreal.
He placed both hands on the handles.
For a moment, he did not lift it.
Then he pulled it in, feeling its full weight settle into his arms.
The sound from the stands rose instantly.
He turned and began walking back toward his teammates.
Behind him, cameras followed every step.
Arsenal players leaned forward, already shouting, already ready.
Wenger stood near the touchline, watching with a steady expression that barely hid the emotion behind it.
The staff beside him smiled without speaking.
Le Kai stepped onto the stage again.
The stadium held its breath.
Then he lifted it.
The Champions League trophy rose above his head.
The explosion of sound that followed was immediate and total.
Fireworks burst across the stadium roofline. Confetti machines fired into the air. The crowd erupted into a continuous wave of noise that drowned everything else.
Arsenal players rushed toward him, arms raised, shouting into the sky.
The entire team collapsed into celebration beneath the lights.
The speakers inside the stadium began playing, and the first notes of "We Are The Champions" rolled through the arena.
The chant followed instantly.
Arsenal fans sang in unison, voices breaking, repeating the words again and again until it became impossible to separate individual voices from the whole.
Le Kai held the trophy tighter, lifting it slightly higher as his teammates surrounded him.
Flash after flash captured the moment.
A captain standing at the center.
A team at the peak.
A club rewriting its history in real time.
. . .
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