Rise of a Football God

30th, April…

2026.

The city of Barcelona pulsed with a raw, feverish energy.

It was a rainy night in Barcelona.

Rain drizzled steadily from a bruised sky, turning the streets into slick rivers of light reflected from the flares, headlights, and electric screens. But not even the rain could douse the inferno the Barcelona faithful had prepared.

Hours before kickoff, the roads leading to the Spotify Camp Nou were clogged with a seething mass of supporters.

They wore ponchos or simply let the rain soak them to the bone, their faces painted in blood-red and deep blue, their banners held high and defiant.

Flares hissed and spat smoke into the wet air, casting an eerie glow through the mist. Thunderous drums pounded out a primal rhythm, and chants soared like war cries through the storm.

"Barca!" "Barca!" "Barca!"

"Inter, cabrones, saludad a los campeones!"

When the Inter Milan team bus finally rolled into town, escorted by police, it was as if a spark had dropped onto a powder keg.

The rain amplified the fury; fans banged on the security barricades, smoke engulfed the bus, and flares were tossed onto the wet pavement, hissing and spitting fire like furious serpents.

Red and blue smoke clung to the ground, swirling around the tires like ghostly warriors. No matter what affiliation you were, any player not of the Barcelona persuasion would have felt the energy seeping into them.

The energy was unstoppable. It was insidious, like a drug.

Inter's players peered nervously from behind the glass, their faces momentarily illuminated by the flashes of lightning above and the wild strobe of camera flashes.

It was chaos in the rain.

It felt less like arriving for a football match and more like marching into enemy territory during wartime.

Heck, it felt like walking into the opened maw of an Ancient Dragon.

They finally entered inside, and yet, it didn't stop.

Inside the Spotify Camp Nou, the atmosphere was a living, breathing thing.

The rain hammered the roof and the terraces, but under it all, the fans created a wall of sound so dense it seemed to shake the very concrete beneath their feet.

Every song, every whistle, every jeer layered into a roaring symphony of hostility for the enemy team.

Massive tifos unfurled across the stands; a snarling dragon in Barca colors swallowing a black and blue snake whole; another one of Sam sitting on a throne with a crown on his head, radiating royalty while stomping a similar black and blue snake on the head.

The stadium lights glared down through the misty rain, catching the haze of smoke still drifting over the pitch, making the scene look almost surreal, like something out of a fever dream.

Or to the Inter players, something out of their nightmares.

As the teams lined up in the tunnel, every player could feel it; the energy.

This wasn't just a game.

This was a battle for survival in the heart of a fortress, on a night when even the skies had turned against the invaders.

And then, finally…

FWEEEEE!

When the referee blew his whistle for kickoff, Camp Nou erupted, not like a stadium but like a volcano, sending a shockwave of raw, primal energy hurtling into the rain-soaked night.

And under the rain, in a slippery stadium, the war for a spot in the final of the UEFA Champions League started.

The weather forecasters never predicted rain.

And so, the rain was as much of a shock to the FC Barcelona players as it was to the Inter Milan players.

But they were professional football players; they would manage.

For the first few dozen minutes of this game, it was pure chaos as both teams struggled to settle on a steady rhythm to control the game.

The pitch was slippery and wet, limiting the options of the players.

Playing long ground passes was now a complicated and risky affair. If not hit right, the wet grass could slow the ball down, resulting in your team losing the ball in a dangerous position.

Dribbling also became much trickier, and yet, the Barca players rose to the occasion fueled by the relentless energy of their fans in the stadium stands.

Lamine Yamal played like a magician with his magic wand.

Instead of being affected adversely by the wet ground, he took advantage of it, weaving through his markers with effortless ease as the famed Inter Milan defenders were forced to their knees and butts on numerous occasions.

In the middle of the pitch, Pedri Gonzalez also kept it tidy, helping Barcelona to maintain control over the middle of the pitch despite the chaotic momentum of the game due to the rain.

Upfront, Sam assumed a lethal false 9 role, dropping deep to help his team build attack. This was Hansi Flick's strategy tonight.

Alongside Atletico Madrid, Inter Milan had one of the best defenses in Europe and to break them down, Sam was given freedom to create.

In the rain, he thrived.

10 minutes, no goal…

20 minutes, no goal…

In the 33rd minute of the game, the deadlock was finally broken.

Benjamin Pavard passed towards Calhanoglou in midfield, but the wet grass slowed the ball down, allowing the Wolfish Samuel Moses to pounce.

Sam arrived at the ball first.

Whoosh!

Calhanoglou slid in recklessly for the ball, the wet pitch carrying him further as he slid and yet, anticipating it with his spatial awareness, Sam flicked the ball up before jumping over the challenge.

As soon as Sam won back the ball, he already spotted someone's run since and after evading Calhanoglou's challenge, he hit a long lobbed pass to the right.

Lamine Yamal took the ball in his strides, rounding his man before passing a lobbed pass back to Sam who already rushed into the 18-yard box.

Immediately, in trepidation, the whole Inter Milan defense reacted to the presence of the most in form striker in Europe.

And yet, Sam didn't shoot. Rather, he simply flicked it behind him.

POW!

Pedri unleashed a thunderous volley!

Having been following him since after Sam dropped back, he was in the right place to hit Sam's flicked pass sweetly, sending it into the back of the net.

"GOALLLL…!"

The Spotify Camp Nou erupted.