Rise of a Football God-Chapter 421: Return leg at the Spotify Camp Nou; heavyweight clash!

15th April, 2026…

8 days, they had 8 days to prepare for the epic return leg clash.

The night at Spotify Camp Nou is one that's been etched into calendars and carved into nerves. A Champions League quarter-final return leg, and the scenario was perfectly poised for a blockbuster clash; Manchester City holding a narrow 2-1 lead from the first leg.

But now, the sky blues were entering hostile territory, the heart of Catalunya, where legends have risen and giants have fallen.

Hours before kickoff, the streets around the Camp Nou buzzed.

Thousands of Barcelona fans crowded the approach roads, waving scarves, singing anthems, and waiting.

Then, the City team bus appeared, a sleek modern coach gliding slowly into the lion's den, and hell was unleashed.

The roar of the fans swelled into a chaotic symphony of whistles, jeers, and chants. Red and blue flares erupted in the air like battlefield smoke.

Firecrackers snapped at their wheels.

"VISCA BARCA!"

"VISCA CATALUNYA!"

Chants pound the air like war drums.

It's not violence, not vandalism, not theatre, not a ritual, rather, a message delivered loud and clear.

'You are not welcome here!'

Inside the bus, the Manchester City players were stone-faced, staring through tinted windows at a sea of defiance.

But beneath that icy exterior, their blood was boiling.

Haaland cracked his knuckles, De Bruyne's jaw was set like stone. Rodri, returning to his homeland clenched his fists tightly, he could not help it.

They've been booed, spat at, disrespected, and now, they were ready.

It was no longer about just defending a lead, now it was about proving that they can conquer football's most sacred battlefield.

It was about proving their coach's tactics; it was about proving their credentials at the very biggest stage of club football.

When they walked out for the warm-up, the welcome was deafening.

Not applause, a wall of sound designed to drown them. Every City touch during the warmup was met with a tsunami of whistles.

Tonight, the Catalan fans held nothing back; they went all out.

Every shot on goal was heckled with savage glee. Barcelona fans rose as one, building psychological pressure before the first whistle even blows.

And then… the stadium went dark.

A spotlight illuminated the massive centre tifo; a crimson and blue titan crushing a clockwork machine beneath its boot, with the phrase.

>"Aquesta es casa nostra – This is our home"<

BOOM!

The stadium stands quaked, fireworks arced above the stadium roof, and the Champions League anthem blared, barely audible over all the noise.

The Camp Nou became a living, screaming organism, and in its center, 22 players prepared to write another chapter of footballing folklore.

The Barcelona squad fed off this energy.

Youngsters like Pedri and Lamine Yamal looked possessed. Raphinha's eyes were fire, his experience steeled by the occasion.

As for Sam?

Badump! Badump!

Sam could feel his heart beating rapidly against his chest.

'This…!'

None of the Barca players knew about the elaborate preparations of the fans in preparation for this game. And this was why just like the Man City players, they were caught off guard by the atmosphere in the stadium.

At first, Sam tried to be nonchalant but it was impossible.

This atmosphere…, even with his almost 4 years' experience in football, this was a first, this was unprecedented.

He could not help it, his blood boiled.

He felt goosepimples, all his hair standing on end and with it, adrenaline surged through him like molten fire flowing through a volcano.

Sam's eyes burned with molten fire, wide with dark glee.

As for the City players?

They thrived in hate. They drank in the fury, their faces taut, adrenaline pumping, hearts thundering.

This isn't just a football match.

It is a clash of ideologies, of dynasties, of wills.

A place where one goal can change history.

And tonight, the gods of football were watching.

And then…

FWEEEE!

The referee's whistle was like a beacon of light in a chaotic storm, a beacon that gave focused to frenzied predators stuck inside a rectangle-shaped pitch.

BZZZ!

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

As soon as the referee's whistle sounded, FC Barcelona erupted.

They started kickoff and with it, oppression started.

Riding the energy of the stadium, Barca dominated during the first few minutes of this game with ruthless efficiency.

Bam! Bam!

The ball was pinged left and right like a ping pong ball, cutting through Man City's formation time and time again as Pedri dominated the midfield battle.

That night, old fans didn't see Pedri, rather they saw Andres Iniesta.

The little devil was everywhere in the midfield, twisting and turning, cutting, shifting, orchestrating the deadly Barcelona dance, a dance of shadows.

And then, the first chance.

Pedri unleashed a devilishly accurate long pass to Lamine Yamal. The electric winger didn't miss a beat, controlling the ball with one silky touch of his right foot and then with his left just as Josko Gvardiol closed him down, he flicked the ball on.

With his left leg and the heel of his boots, Lamine Yamal flicked the ball into the box where Sam was already lurking.

Instantly, a tug of war started.

Ruben Dias and John Stones sandwiched Sam, wary of his threat but despite the physicality of his 2 markers, Sam still managed to do what he wanted.

'If it's my will…, who dares to stop me?'

He leapt high in between the 2 defenders, controlling the ball with his chest.

Ruben Dias tugged at Sam's right arm, cleverly displacing his balance. Sam's balance wavered, but sheer willpower pushed him on.

His initial intention was mooted, unleashed a volleyed shot.

But in that moment, Sam's brain was working on overdrive.

'If not a volley, then what else?'

The solution came immediately and Sam executed it without pause.

As he descended with the ball, he suddenly twisted his body in mid-air.

As Ruben Dias and John Stones watched with wide eyes, the Barca striker twisted in mid-air acrobatically, swinging his right leg at the ball, and then…

BAM!

An overhead kick!

No one saw it coming.

The timing, the speed of execution, everything was so swift and seamless that all the Man City players in the vicinity were rooted to one spot, including the goalkeeper, Ederson Moraes.

Thud!

Sam landed roughly to the ground on his back, but the ball was already inside the net.

Jumping back on his feet, he charged away in celebration.

For a moment or two, there was silence and then…

BOOM!

The Spotify Camp Nou erupted!