El Prat Airport in Barcelona hadn't seen chaos like this in years.
Thousands of fans pressed against security barriers, their chants rolling like thunder across the terminals. Banners waved overhead, some reading:
["Bienvenido de vuelta, Dios del Futbol"]
While others carried Nigerian flags with Sam's face printed on them.
It had been nearly two months since Samuel Moses last set foot in Spain.
In that time, he had conquered Africa, led Nigeria to a World Cup final, disappeared into the streets of Abraka, stunned the world with his homecoming, and whisked his new bride across the globe for a honeymoon worthy of royalty.
Now, the King was back.
It was a frenzy at the airport.
As the doors slid open, cameras erupted in flashes.
Security struggled to hold back fans as Sam, wearing a fitted black tracksuit and dark sunglasses, emerged hand in hand with Kayla.
The chants were deafening.
"Sam-u-el!" "Sam-u-el!" "Sam-u-el!"
"Futbol Dios!"
Yes, Sam played against Spain at the World Cup Round of 16.
Yet, Sam did the impossible against their country, eliminating them from the World Cup in heartbreaking fashion but the heartbreak was only temporary. After that, they rooted for Sam and Nigeria throughout the rest of the World Cup.
Sam may have beaten their country, but he was still theirs.
He was still their beloved. He was still the King of the Spotify Camp Nou.
Some fans knelt, some threw flowers, others simply screamed his name like a battle cry.
Sam had been famous all the way from Fulham in England. He became even more famous throughout the course of his debut season with FC Barcelona.
But now? His fame was truly at a new height after the crazy World Cup performance where he stole the love or hate of every football fan in the World.
Those who didn't love him hated him, and it made him crazy famous.
Even after a season where he won a historic quadruple and shattered records, his World Cup exploits had elevated him beyond superstardom; now, he was a global phenomenon.
Kayla gripped his hand tighter. "You weren't kidding when you said Spain goes mad for you".
Sam chuckled softly. "This is calm compared to matchday at the Spotify Camp Nou".
…
Spotify Camp Nou – First Day Back.
When Sam walked into the Barcelona training complex the next morning, the atmosphere shifted instantly. Teammates who had been grinding through preseason sessions stopped to watch him enter.
Pedri jogged over first, grinning. "Finally! The prodigal king returns!"
Gavi, smirking, added. "We thought you'd retired on a beach somewhere with your Golden Boot".
Robert Lewandowski clapped Sam on the back. "Good to see you, campeon. The squad missed you".
Sam already knew of Lewandowski's inclusion in the new season squad. But still, he showed his surprise clear to the veteran striker.
Lewandowski noticed it and chuckled. "What? Can't an old man like me be ambitious?" He slapped Sam playfully by the shoulder. "Man, I want to experience one more season with you, with this squad". He gestured at his teammates.
Yes, last season, after the spiraling emotions of that epic Champions League final against PSG, Robert Lewandowski made the big personal decision to finally retire from football at a high.
But then, as time progressed, he regretted his decision and went back on it, deciding to go for one more season at FC Barcelona.
"One more season then senior," Sam shook Lewandowski's outstretched arm and grinned. "Let's enjoy football".
He smiled, greeting each player with warmth and humor. Despite his status, he never carried himself like a man above the team.
In the corner, Hansi Flick, Barcelona's sharp and meticulous coach, observed silently before stepping forward.
"Samuel," Flick said with his usual calm authority. "Good to have you back. I trust your vacation… recharged you?"
Sam grinned. "More than you know, coach".
Flick's stern expression softened into the faintest smile. "Good. Because now we prepare for war. This season, we defend everything we won… and we aim higher. Ready?"
Sam met his gaze, eyes steady and full of fire. "Always".
…
Later that afternoon, Sam faced a packed press conference.
Journalists from every major outlet in Europe crowded the room, microphones thrust forward like spears.
"Samuel," one reporter began, "you've missed the first two preseason matches. Are you confident you'll be ready for Daegu and the Joan Gamper Trophy final?"
Sam leaned casually against the podium, smirking. "Confidence has never been my problem".
Laughter rippled through the room.
Another journalist called out. "After winning the World Cup Golden Ball and Golden Boot, many are calling you the best player in the world. Some even say you've surpassed Messi and Ronaldo at your age. Thoughts?"
Sam's smile turned sharp, almost dangerous. "Comparisons don't interest me. I'm not here to be the next Messi or Ronaldo. I'm here to be the first Samuel Moses… and by the time I'm done, there won't be a debate".
The room buzzed with excitement, the quote destined to dominate headlines.
After the press conference, Sam returned to the pitch, lacing his boots as the sun set over the Spotify Camp Nou. The sound of the ball pinging against the grass felt like coming home.
He had already missed preseason matches against Vissel Kobe and FC Seoul, but now all eyes were on the upcoming clashes.
[Preseason:]
(August 4th: Barcelona vs Daegu FC)
(August 10th: Joan Gamper Trophy Final vs Como)
The world wanted to see if the Football God still had divine magic after a long break.
As Sam jogged into positon for his first light session, his teammated watched in anticipation.
Pedri whispered to Gavi. "Do you think he'll slow down after all that fame?"
Gavi shook his head, grinning. "Nah, you talk like you don't know him," he threw a glance over his shoulder at Pedri. "That guy? He's not human. He'll come back even scarier. His work ethic is crazy".
And as Sam's first strike curled perfectly into the top corner during a warmup drill, jaws dropped across the training ground.
The message was clear… Samuel Moses hadn't lost a step.
He was just getting started.