“I’m so nervous, I’m shaking,” Soobin admits afterward. The confession feels at odds with what just played out. If there were nerves, they didn’t show. The group’s commanding presence made it impossible to tell and, if anything, the adrenaline only sharpened them.

Every movement on this stage is deliberate. “Devil by the Window” is choreographed with sharp, hypnotic precision, Yeonjun’s gravity-defying levitation move embodying the song’s eerie sense of temptation. Beomgyu steps into the spotlight next, his movements fluid yet precise – each step echoing the grace of Buchaechum, the traditional Korean fan dance. Then, the rest of the group joins him, dressed in striking reinterpretations of traditional Korean attire, seamlessly folding their heritage into the hypermodern. What follows is a reimagined take on “Sugar Rush Ride”, its ethereal melodies now infused with an undeniable cultural weight. It’s a defining moment, a declaration of identity. Even as TXT continues to push global pop into new terrain, they remain deeply rooted in where they come from.

After “Resist (Not Gonna Run Away)”, Hueningkai drops a casual aside: ‘We just made a performance video here, like, four hours ago.’ Yeonjun, meanwhile, marvels at London’s architecture, while Soobin seems almost relieved that the city’s infamous gloom wasn’t as relentless as he’d expected. It’s a fleeting exchange, lighthearted and unscripted, but it underscores something bigger: the surreal weight of the moment. After years of near-misses and what-ifs, TXT aren’t just passing through. They’re here, fully present, standing on English soil at long last.

Dressed in sleek bomber jackets adorned with angel wings, they tear into “LO$ER=LO♡ER”, and the energy surges instantly. The crowd screams along with “I’m a loser,” a line that shouldn’t feel as good as it does, but in this moment, it’s cathartic; an anthem of defiance, connection, and the beautiful contradictions that TXT capture so well.

“Higher Than Heaven” follows, its charged, anthemic quality amplified by the contrasting textures of their voices – Yeonjun’s soaring belts, Soobin’s ethereal falsetto – and together, they layer into a soundscape that’s as intense as it is cathartic, filling the arena with energy. The crowd becomes an extension of the song, voices rising in unity, each person lost in the shared euphoria.

They transition into “Thursday’s Child Has Far to Go”, a fist-pumping, euphoric moment that sends the entire arena into synchronized movement. Everyone here knows the choreography; they’ve been waiting years for this, after all. The arena shifts into an ocean of synchronized motion, each fan a vital part of the performance. “Quarter Life” closes this sequence, its anthemic charge amplified by their harmonies – Taehyun’s deep growls, Beomgyu’s raspiness, Hueningkai’s piercing clarity – perfectly closing the loop on a segment that moves between pure pop and rock, vulnerability and strength.

“GGUM”, Yeonjun’s moment, is the surprising highlight of the night. The polarising track is bratty, rebellious, charged with the kind of star power only he could pull off. Mid-performance, he accidentally smacks his mic against his lip during a high kick. It starts bleeding, visibly. He doesn’t stop. Instead, he masterfully works it into the performance, smiling through the pain, unwavering. It’s something you can’t teach: instinct, commitment, the kind of presence that separates the great from the unforgettable.

TXT’s ability to shift between genres so seamlessly is rare. One moment, they’re pop idols; the next, they’re full-fledged rockstars. After Hueningkai’s electrifying drum solo, “Good Boy Gone Bad” bled straight into “Growing Pains”, a transition that captured the very essence of their duality. It’s here that TXT’s true range is on display. Genre-hopping isn’t easy – many try, few succeed – but TXT makes it feel effortless.

Even visually, the duality is there. The structured, tailored suits of the opening act give way to flowing shirts and tight-fitted tees, before shifting again into something looser, more lived-in. It mirrors the energy of the setlist: sharp when it needs to be, unrestrained when it matters.

Interestingly, the group spent a significant portion of the night on the extended stage, keeping themselves at the heart of the audience rather than towering above them. They don’t talk about their audience like fans; they talk about them like theirs. “Our MOAs,” they say over and over, and it doesn’t feel rehearsed. It feels like truth, reinforcing the idea that TXT isn’t just performing for their fans, but with them.

As the final chords of “Magic” ring out and confetti falls, the members wave their last goodbyes, but there’s a sense of reluctance: both from the artists and the fans. The arena stays still. Fans linger, unwilling to let the moment dissolve into memory just yet.

“Did you have a good time?” one friend asks another, but the response is just a tearful nod. Words wouldn’t be enough anyway: it’s just like magic.

Moments before stepping onto The O2 stage for the first time, TXT posed backstage for tmrw in their sleek opening outfits, anticipation thick in the air. Scroll down for an exclusive look behind the scenes, plus two high-energy shots capturing the night in motion.