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God Of football

Chapter 828: Mi Casa, Mi Familia. [Dragon: CoolVamp.] · Oct 10, 2026

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Chapter List (1057)

Page number / 22

801 Chapter 801: What Was That. 2026-10-10
802 Chapter 802: Suspicions. 2026-10-10
803 Chapter 803: Suspicions [2] 2026-10-10
804 Chapter 804: Football Is So Much More. 2026-10-10
805 Chapter 805: No Fairytales. 2026-10-10
806 Chapter 806: And Then There Were Two[Bonus.] 2026-10-10
807 Chapter 807: Regular Saturday Night. 2026-10-10
808 Chapter 808: Are You Ready? 2026-10-10
809 Chapter 809: Dazzling. 2026-10-10
810 Chapter 810: Barcelona’s Answer. 2026-10-10
811 Chapter 811: Blink, And You’re Dead. 2026-10-10
812 Chapter 812: Unluckiest Of Circumstances.[GT Chapter.] 2026-10-10
813 Chapter 813: Can’t Hold Him. 2026-10-10
814 Chapter 814: No Regrets. 2026-10-10
815 Chapter 815: Massive Part Of The Story. 2026-10-10
816 Chapter 816: Crumbling. 2026-10-10
817 Chapter 817: Dream Gone. 2026-10-10
818 Chapter 818: Some, Still With Life. 2026-10-10
819 Chapter 819: Knows No Loss. 2026-10-10
820 Chapter 820: Past The 90. 2026-10-10
821 Chapter 821: Goosebumps. 2026-10-10
822 Chapter 822: Hand Of god. 2026-10-10
823 Chapter 823: Herald Of Finality. 2026-10-10
824 Chapter 824: In their Grasp.[GT Chapter.] 2026-10-10
825 Chapter 825: Trophy Celebrations. 2026-10-10
826 Chapter 826: Not Without The Fans...... Or Readers. 2026-10-10
827 Chapter 827: Arrival. [Dragon: CoolVamp] 2026-10-10
828 Chapter 828: Mi Casa, Mi Familia. [Dragon: CoolVamp.] 2026-10-10
829 Chapter 829: The Youngest. 2026-10-10
830 Chapter 830: World Reveals. 2026-10-10
831 Chapter 831: Club Conquest. 2026-10-10
832 Chapter 832: What To Do? 2026-10-10
833 Chapter 833: Out Of The Norm. 2026-10-10
834 Chapter 834: Brother, Son and Boyfriend. 2026-10-10
835 Chapter 835: His Fears. 2026-10-10
836 Chapter 836: Awards And Arising Concerns. 2026-10-10
837 Chapter 837: Opening. 2026-10-10
838 Chapter 838: First 3 Points. 2026-10-10
839 Chapter 839: Back To Save. 2026-10-10
840 Chapter 840: A Game To Win. 2026-10-10
841 Chapter 841: Football’s Poster Boy. 2026-10-10
842 Chapter 842: Calm As You Like. 2026-10-10
843 Chapter 843: Here We Go Again. 2026-10-10
844 Chapter 844: Called Upon. 2026-10-10
845 Chapter 845: It’s Fallen For...... [Bonus] 2026-10-10
846 Chapter 846: One Shot, One Goal. 2026-10-10
847 Chapter 847: Start Of A Dominant Campaign. 2026-10-10
848 Chapter 848: To The Round Of 16. 2026-10-10
849 Chapter 849: Work On A Free Day, Apparently. 2026-10-10
850 Chapter 850: Price Of Greatness. [GT Chapter.] 2026-10-10

Chapter 828: Mi Casa, Mi Familia. [Dragon: CoolVamp.]

The morning sun had now begun, shifting to noon at Colney as the players began to spill out of the entrance.

Izan, backpack slung lazily over his shoulder, stepped out, dragging another luggage behind him, looking up at the rare bright sun in shining over Colney.

He looked around, hoping he could find a car that pointed towards being his ride.

But before he could take another step, Saka’s voice rang across the training ground, playful and sharp as ever.

”Oi, Miura! You can score four in the Champions League final,” Bukayo called out, pretending to squint as if he were deep in thought, ”but man can’t even find transport home?”

A burst of laughter erupted from nearby, with a few like Nwaneri joining in.

”You just know that this would be gold on the news,” he uttered while chucking his bag into Saka’s car.

”Breaking news,” he continued, mimicking the flair with which news anchors wne about their job, ”Champions League winner and Arsenal superstar, can’t get a ride?”

Izan only smirked faintly, shaking his head.

His hair brushed across his forehead as he walked past them, unbothered, shoes clicking lightly against the concrete.

”You lot talk too much,” he murmured under his breath, unlocking his phone.

”Oi, he’s ignoring us now!” Nwaneri teased.

”Man’s too famous to speak,” Saka added dramatically.

Izan only raised a hand in farewell without turning back.

The teasing faded behind him, replaced by the sound of a car door opening.

A sleek black Uber waited near the exit gate.

The driver, a man in his forties with a neatly pressed shirt and uncertain eyes, was staring just a little too long at the young man walking toward him.

Izan didn’t mind; he was used to it.

He opened the rear door and set his bag neatly beside him, sliding in with that understated grace he sometimes carried.

”Good morning,” he said softly.

The driver blinked as though he hadn’t expected him to speak.

”Ah, yes, good morning, sir.”

He adjusted the rearview mirror, straightening his posture, his hands suddenly a little too deliberate on the steering wheel.

The air filled with quiet professionalism, the kind that couldn’t hide a trembling excitement.

As they merged into the soft hum of morning traffic, Izan leaned back, scrolling through his phone.

Notifications rolled endlessly, from mentions, reposts and tags.

Messages of congratulations flooded every platform.

Jude Bellingham had posted a story citing, ”Unreal performance, bro. Different level. You truly deserved this.”

Valencia CF’s official account had shared a picture of Izan in their colours, captioned: Once one of ours, always one of ours.

Then came Adidas with a cinematic post of his final goal with the caption: Be Like Izan. Never Stop Believing

He scrolled further where Ronaldo had reposted a clip of him lifting up the trophy, with the comment,The kid is special. The future is here.

Messi, ever quieter, had liked the Ronaldo post and commented only: Incredible player. Felicitaciones, campeón.

And, when people of such magnitude gathered, the comments beneath were bound to be chaotic.

”The only player who can summon both GOATs at once.”

”Miura did the impossible, Ronaldo AND Messi fans agreeing on someone?”

Izan couldn’t help but laugh, low and genuine, the corners of his mouth lifting as the car slowed to a turn.

The driver caught his reflection in the mirror and finally broke his composure.

”Sir, sorry... I-, my son and I, we are huge fans. We watched the final last night, he couldn’t sleep.”

Izan looked up, amused. ”Really? Thanks for watching.”

”Yes, sir! If it’s not too much, could you, maybe just say hello? A short video? It would mean the world to him.”

”Of course,” Izan said with an easy nod.

The driver quickly pulled out his phone, fumbling slightly as he opened the camera.

”Okay, ready, uh, go!”

Izan smiled at the lens.

”Hey, little man,” he said, voice warm and sincere.

”Listen to your dad, work hard, and who knows, maybe I’ll see you on the pitch one day.”

The driver beamed as though he’d just won the lottery.

”Thank you, sir. Thank you!”

They pulled up outside the house a few minutes later.

The sun had fully risen now, painting the quiet street in soft orange.

The driver jumped out instantly, rushing to help with Izan’s luggage.

”No need—” Izan began, but the man insisted.

”Please, sir, it’s fine.”

Izan relented with a small nod.

As they placed the bag beside the door, the driver hesitated, eyes bright with disbelief.

”You’re... really humble, you know that?”

Izan smiled faintly. ”It’s just football.”

”Not to us,” the man said, shaking his head, still grinning.

”Have a good day, Mr Miura.”

”You too,” Izan replied, watching as the car rolled away.

The moment it turned the corner, the driver’s professionalism shattered completely.

He snatched up his phone, dialling someone in excitement.

”Kwame! Bro! You won’t believe who I just drove—”

Izan chuckled as he turned back to his gate, the laughter fading into quietness.

The house stood still and calm as he dragged his bag across the small path leading to the front porch, the gravel crunching beneath his sneakers.

Then, from inside, a familiar voice carried faintly, Olivia’s.

”Komi, I think Izan might be at Colney. I don’t think he called James in advance!”

”But, Olivia, he could call an Uber,” Komi said as the gate opened, with Olivia stepping out, her back turned.

Her hair caught the light, glimmering softly.

She didn’t see him at first.

”Olivia,” he called gently.

She froze.

The sound of his voice, real, close, unmistakable,made her whirl around so fast she stumbled backwards in surprise.

He caught her instinctively, one arm wrapping around her waist.

Her breath caught. ”Izan?”

”Who else?” he murmured, smiling, and before she could answer, he kissed her.

It wasn’t long or dramatic; it was quiet, real, filled with everything they hadn’t said over the phone these past days.

The door creaked open again.

”I heard a scream—” Komi began, only to stop mid-sentence.

Her son and Olivia were still close, startled, cheeks flushed.

Olivia instantly pulled back, embarrassed, while Izan rubbed his neck, half-guilty, half-amused.

”Hi, Mom,” he said, tone caught between casual and sheepish.

Komi just blinked at the scene, her son fresh off European glory, and her maybe-future daughter-in-law in his arms, before a smile tugged at her lips.

”Welcome home, champion,” she said.

Izan stepped through the doorway, the familiar scent of home washing over him.

The house felt still, sunlight spilling through the large glass expanse that had been made clear.

The living room was neat but unusually quiet as he slipped off his trainers and glanced around.

”Where’s Hori? And Miranda?” he asked, his voice breaking the calm.

Komi looked up from the kitchen entrance, wiping her hands on a towel.

”They went out for groceries not too long ago,” she replied, her tone warm but matter-of-fact.

”Said they’d be quick.”

”When did you guys get here?” he asked, lowering his bag beside the couch.

”Dawn,” Olivia answered before Komi could. She leaned casually against the counter, her hair still slightly damp from a morning shower.

”We took the first flight out right after the game.”

Izan nodded slowly, a faint smile touching his lips.

”Figures,” he murmured.

Miranda never rested when there was something to plan, and Hori loved any excuse to be out in what she called ”All Her Glamour”

”Sit, sit,” Komi urged, waving him toward the dining table. ”You look exhausted.”

He hadn’t realised how heavy his limbs felt until he sank into the chair.

Moments later, Komi returned with a plate of pancakes stacked neatly and a tall glass of milk on a tray.

The smell was nostalgic, soft butter, maple, and the faint crisp of edges fried just right.

”Thanks, Mom,” Izan said, smiling faintly as he reached for a fork.

”You don’t need to thank me,” she replied, though her eyes softened.

”You’ve earned a proper meal at home.”

As Komi turned to tidy the counter, Izan leaned back slightly, and without a word or gesture, called up his system, the invisible interface that hummed behind his vision.

The familiar grid shimmered faintly before solidifying into digital clarity.

But instead of numbers or new unlocks, the same message he’d seen since last night flashed before him again:

”System is recalibrating. Processing the full weight of your recent achievement. Please wait...”

He stared at it for a few seconds, amused.

”Not the rewards being calculated but achievements,” he muttered under his breath with a chuckle.

Komi turned, pausing mid-step. ”Hmm? Did you say something?”

Izan blinked, the glow of the interface fading from his eyes. He looked up, feigning innocence.

”No, nothing,” he said lightly, shaking his head.

Komi narrowed her eyes playfully, unconvinced but too content to pry.

Olivia just smiled from where she stood, watching him in quiet amusement as Izan took his first bite of warm pancakes.

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