In Lisbon, the night felt unusually quiet. But inside the Sporting CP boardroom, there was a storm brewing — the kind you don’t see, only feel in the nervous glances, whispered phone calls, and the way men in suits pace the floor when they know something precious is slipping away. Viktor Gyökeres, their lion, their machine, was leaving.
No one said it out loud at first. It hurt too much. You don’t just replace 97 goals. You don’t just smile as Europe steals the heart of your team. But deep down, they knew. The Swedish force who had bulldozed through defenses, who had led them to a league and cup double, was already halfway out the door.
And the worst part? He was going to England. The London club had been circling for months, lurking in the shadows while other suitors came and went. But Arsenal never left. They waited. They watched. They planned. And now, as summer crept deeper and the window ticked toward deadline, they struck.
It wasn’t just money — it was a message. They weren’t just buying a striker. They were buying **dominance**. They were building a monster. A team that could no longer be laughed off by City or dismissed by United. Mikel Arteta had a vision, and Gyökeres was no longer a target. He was the cornerstone.
The deal wasn’t done yet, but it might as well have been. The five-year contract was agreed. Personal terms? Sorted. All that remained were final haggles — the kind agents love and fans hate — about structure, bonuses, clauses that might never be triggered but still take hours to fight over.
Viktor was ready. He wasn’t nervous. This wasn’t arrogance. This was destiny. He had bled for Sporting — 54 goals last season alone. He had owned the Champions League nights, bagging six in eight. But now, it was time for something bigger. The Premier League. The Emirates. The Arsenal crest on his chest. Sporting knew. And they weren’t crying. They were moving. Because while Viktor’s name lit up headlines, another one was being scribbled in boardrooms and WhatsApp chats across Iberia