Chapter 81: Back to work
The hum of the private jet faded behind him as Sam stepped onto Spanish soil again. The air was colder than Abuja’s warmth, a sharp reminder that Christmas was over. Holidays done, smiles stored away. Now it was time to work.
Even during the Christmas period, Sam didn’t exempt himself from daily training completely, the system wouldn’t let him.
He still did the bare minimum every day to keep himself in shape.
But now, it was time to ramp things up again.
Barcelona’s training ground, Ciutat Esportiva Joan Gamper buzzed with energy. Cones lined the pitches, and bibs fluttered as coaches barked in Catalan.
And there, scattered across the field, were the brothers he’d missed. On one side, there was Pedri juggling a ball idly, on another side Yamal was pulling a prank on Gavi, while Balde stretched like he’d never left.
When Sam jogged over, Raphinha spotted him first.
"¡Mira quién está aquí!" he shouted. "Ballon d’Or man has returned!"
As soon as Raphinha called out his presence, the others reacted.
The squad cheered, clapping, and laughing. But Yamal was not ok with that as he sprinted over and leapt onto Sam’s back. "Finally! We thought you were never coming back!"
Sam staggered under his weight, hiding a grimace as he playfully hit Yamal on the head. "I come back and this is my welcome?"
Pedri grinned, walking up with his usual calm. "We’ve been keeping your spot warm. Hope you didn’t lose your touch with the holiday, don’t mess it up".
Sam looked at him incredulously. "Who do you take me for?"
Yamal laughed. "Oh, the mighty Ballon d’Or winner, you are the greatest of Nigeria, Samuel Moses, first of his name, the father of Dragons..."
"Oi oi, I think that’s enough". Sam forced Yamal down from his back.
On the side, striding over, Gavi smirked. "Don’t worry, Sam. If you’re too tired, I’ll take your minutes."
"Not even in a hundred years". Sam laughed as he shoved him playfully, the warmth of brotherhood sparking in his chest. The holidays had given him joy, but here, here was where his fire lived.
As the game ramped up towards November and late December, it was hard to cope, to stay consistent and perform at the Ballon d’Or level week in, week out.
But now, after the holidays, Sam felt refreshed again.
He was raring to go.
Hansi Flick’s whistle pierced the air. "Enough reunion, let’s get back to work". He ruthlessly cut off their brotherhood time, pulling them back to training.
With that, the tone in the training ground shifted instantly.
Bibs were pulled on, and drills began. The first touch drills burned calves, rondos tested sharpness, and sprint relays punished holiday indulgence.
Sam threw himself into it, sweat pouring as he sharpened his lungs. Every touch of the ball was a promise to himself. ’Stay sharp... stay ready’.
But then, the system chimed softly in his mind.
DING!
~----~
[System Update]
[Daily Quest Activated]
*Complete 50 successful passes in training.
*Sprint 5 km before the end of the session.
>Reward: Recovery Elixir (Minor).
>Failure Penalty: Attribute –1 (Random).
~----~
’Huh?’ Sam’s jaw tightened.
Even here, the system refused to let him slack.
But that was not what bothered him most. With the system, he was beginning to notice a trend.
Ever since the FIFA World Cup, the system stopped giving him season missions and regular missions like it did before. That bothered him, but it didn’t bother him as much as the other change of the system.
For some reason, the system deemed him to be in his peak again, so instead of giving him regular missions to reward him with attribute upgrades, it rather now gave him missions to maintain consistency.
Missions that if he failed, his attributes would drop.
’What the actual f*ck!’
’You helped me before, now you want to drag me down?’
That was not enough to discourage him though. ’Well, no problem, I’ll just prove you wrong like I do to all my haters’.
Within the drills, he began counting subconsciously. ’Pass one, two, three... twenty’. He locked eyes with Pedri, and they began stringing passes between them, threading through tight rondos until defenders groaned in frustration.
By the time training broke for water, Sam was at perfect pass forty seven.
During the final scrimmage, he hit his fiftieth perfect pass, threading a through ball to Yamal, who buried it with a grin.
"Come on!" Yamal yelled, celebrating as he did a little dance.
At that moment, the system lit up again.
DING!
~----~
[Quest complete]
[You have been rewarded with a low-grade Recovery Elixir!]
~----~
A soft glow filled his mind, his lungs loosening instantly as if he’d never been away. Just like the low grade physical conditioning elixir, the Recovery Elixir worked its magic, fatigue draining like water.
He was ready.
After two hours, the squad collapsed onto the grass, laughing, gasping, drenched in sweat.
Balde sprawled on his back. "Remind me why we came back?"
"Because," Sam said, standing tall, stretching, "this is where legends are made".
Raphinha groaned. "Someone’s still on his Ballon d’Or speech."
Hansi Flick walked past, smirking at them. "Let him speak. He’ll need that energy in two days."
The squad sat up. "Two days?"
Flick nodded, voice brisk. "The holiday is over. The New Year starts not with La Liga, not with Europe, but the Copa del Rey. Round of 32. Away to Racing Santander."
Groans erupted, followed by laughter and nonchalant shrugs.
"A lower division team, coach?" Gavi asked, already smirking.
Hansi Flick’s eyes hardened. "Lower division? You think they won’t bite?" he snapped at the Spanish midfielder.
"You think they won’t run till their lungs explode to beat you? In the Copa, pride is worth more than tactics. If you underestimate them, you’ll regret it."
Sam’s grin widened. He’d missed this... the promise of battle, the weight of competition.
As the team dispersed, he lingered a moment, watching the sun dip behind the Catalan hills. His hand brushed the pendant Kayla had given him, a quiet whisper in his heart reminding him. ’Legacy doesn’t rest’.
Santander awaited.