Suker turned his head to look at Simeone.
In pursuit of efficiency and goals, Suker had chosen to partially abandon ball control and dribbling, transforming into a striker.
But that didn't mean he could only play that way.
Simeone had figured out Suker's style and tailored his tactics to counter it, but Suker wasn't about to take it lying down.
If Simeone thought his style was purely that of a striker, then he'd just switch things up and see how they planned to stop him!
The match resumed.
With Real Madrid's goal, Atlético Madrid grew anxious.
They had come to the Bernabéu looking to take advantage of Real Madrid's injury woes and secure all three points. Now, trailing behind, they were desperate to score and turn the tide.
Atlético Madrid launched a cross from the flank, but the ball sailed too close to the goal. Casillas punched it away with both fists.
Boom!
The ball was cleared out.
Xabi Alonso frantically controlled it, searching for an outlet under intense pressure.
Suddenly, Alonso turned.
"Watch out! Suker's making a run!"
Having learned their lesson, Godín immediately organized the retreat.
But at that moment, Suker dropped back from the defensive line, actively retreating to receive the ball.
He wasn't making a forward run?
"Pass it here!"
Suker demanded the ball. Under fierce pressing, Alonso immediately played the pass.
However, the pass was poor—a awkward, bouncing half-volley.
"The rhythm is getting messy! Under this kind of pressure, Alonso's pass is not…"
Just as González was saying this, he witnessed an incredible display on the television screen.
Suker controlled the ball with his chest, then leaned back forcefully, using his body to shield off Filipe Luís.
As Filipe tried to close in again, Suker flicked the ball over the defender's head and spun away.
Filipe scrambled to keep up.
Suker flicked it past him again, turning once more.
Filipe stumbled desperately.
"I've got your back!"
Gabí rushed back to help.
As the two defenders converged, Suker leaped forward slightly, meeting the dropping ball.
The ball seemed glued to the left side of his chest as he hopped right through the gap between them.
The series of exquisite flicks and turns electrified the entire stadium.
Even commentator González was left speechless, clutching his head in disbelief.
Gabí and Filipe collided with each other, looking utterly disorganized.
'One last move, and this is the key!'
A smirk tugged at Suker's lips as the ball slid down his chest.
'No-look pass!'
Suker glanced toward the attacking third but played the ball back to Alonso instead.
His moment of brilliance instantly stabilized Real Madrid's chaotic midfield rhythm.
"My goodness!!! Suker!! He moves like a magician!!"
"Who dares say Suker can't dribble or lacks technical flair now? Look at that display of skill—sheer artistry!"
Suker's dribbling wasn't rigid or mechanical; it was fluid, effortless, and mesmerizing.
In that moment, many were reminded of a legendary name:
'The Magician'—Ronaldinho!
No one felt this more intensely than Casillas.
He stood frozen, mouth slightly agape.
Yes!
This was exactly the same feeling!
That damn genius had torn through the Bernabéu with Barcelona playing exactly like this!
On the sidelines, Simeone's eyes widened in shock.
What in the world was that?!
Suker could play like this too?!
First, it was the clever runs exploiting space.
Now, it was pure technical dribbling.
This stylistic shift left him completely unprepared, and the same went for the Atlético players on the field.
Mourinho blinked in disbelief.
He knew Suker was a versatile forward, but he never imagined the player could combine such incisive movement with breathtaking dribbling.
From that moment on, Suker began touching the ball more frequently.
With his exquisite technique and dribbling, he relentlessly tore through Atlético Madrid's defensive lines.
Many Real Madrid fans watched in a daze, feeling as though they had been transported back to the days when a ponytailed magician conquered the Bernabéu, earning applause even from the home crowd.
Atlético's midfield and defense descended into chaos.
Suker's dribbling was so disruptive that they hardly dared to push forward aggressively.
At one point, Suker even created a chance for Bale with his superb ball control, but the Welshman failed to convert it—even "spitting out" a golden opportunity served up by Suker!
The furious glare Suker shot at him made Bale lower his head in shame, quietly retreating back to position.
Soon, the first half came to an end.
During the break, both teams made adjustments.
After witnessing Suker's performance, Mourinho immediately assigned him a free role in the attack, no longer restricting his movement and giving him full freedom to express himself.
Hearing this, Suker's eyes lit up with excitement.
The first half had been about Inzaghi and Ronaldinho.
The second half would feature Shevchenko, Kaká, and Ronaldo.
Without a doubt, given Suker's physical conditioning, all these legends were at their peak.
Atlético's iron defense!
Prepare to face the test of the legendary strikers from a bygone era!
"Real Madrid counter at lightning speed! Di María plays the through ball! Godín intercepts! Suker!!!!!!!!—"
González roared at the top of his lungs.
Suker, sneaking in from behind Di María, met the ball with a thunderous strike from outside the box.
The ball rocketed toward the goal like a cannonball, grazing the post before rippling the net.
Swish!
Goal!
Real Madrid led 2-0 against Atlético Madrid.
Suker had scored a brace!
"Suker!! It's Suker again!! A powerful long-range strike from outside the box!! Atlético Madrid had no answer to that shot!!"
"They could only watch helplessly as the ball soared into the net!!"
"Two goals down! Atlético Madrid came here confident of taking all three points, but they've been ambushed at the Bernabéu. They're up against an unstoppable Suker!"
After scoring, Suker sprinted to the corner of the pitch, cupping his hands behind his ears to soak in the crowd's adoration.
Shevchenko didn't have a signature celebration, but he had always been fond of this particular gesture.
Suker spun around sharply!
His eyes burned with passion. Next up was Ronaldo.
'Feel the impact of the peak Alien!'
By now, the Atlético players were utterly bewildered.
Suker's ever-changing style had left them in disarray.
A player who could ghost into space with clever runs!
A player with impeccable technique, dictating the midfield's rhythm and toying with them using his dribbling!
A super striker capable of unle thunderous long-range cannons from outside the box!
How could one player's style be so versatile?!
They had no idea how to contain Suker.
Even Simeone was at a loss.
In the 59th minute, Suker charged forward once again.
This time, he attacked from the wing.
Gabí and Suárez quickly closed in, determined not to let him break through.
As they approached, Suker suddenly dragged the ball inward with his left foot.
A swift turn allowed the ball to roll through his legs, and with a powerful burst of acceleration, he blew past both defenders like a gust of wind.
"Oh no!"
"Stop him!"
As Gabí reached out to grab Suker, the forward lunged forward, stumbling briefly but managing to break free after just two steps.
By the time Gabí looked up, Suker was already charging toward the defensive line.
"Good heavens!! Suker is at it again!! Can Atlético Madrid stop him?!"
Godín's heart raced.
He saw Suker speeding toward him, and then the Real Madrid star began cycling his feet.
Bah!
This was the infamous step-over!
Suker's body swayed with such fluidity that it was impossible to predict which way he would go.
Godín retreated step by step until he had nowhere left to go.
Gritting his teeth, Godín stretched out his leg in a desperate challenge.
But Suker was quicker, nudging the ball to the right and darting past Godín before chasing it down and firing a shot—all in one seamless motion.
Swish!
The ball found the net once again!
Real Madrid led 3-0 against Atlético Madrid.
Suker had completed his hat trick.
"A hat trick!!! Suker!!"
"His third goal!! He's single-handedly torn apart Atlético Madrid's defense! This is absolutely insane!"
On the screen, Suker dashed toward the corner flag once more.
A faint smile played on his lips as he raised his right hand, index finger and thumb extended, flicking them lightly.
Faria stared intently. "That's Ronaldo! Yes! That's definitely Ronaldo!"
Mourinho was stunned.
Faria exclaimed, "My God! Is he imitating the styles of his former teammates? Can he really do that?!"
Mourinho murmured, "He learned from Inzaghi at Milan, mimicking his traits. When he became Milan's attacking core, he also imitated Shevchenko."
"After the Euros, he started practicing Ronaldo's step-overs!"
Faria added, "And in the latter part of the first half, his style was identical to Ronaldinho's!"
"These were all his former teammates! He can genuinely mimic their styles! My God! What kind of monster is he?!"
The entire stadium erupted in cheers.
This match wasn't just about the three goals—it was a spectacle.
Suker had showcased a multitude of styles.
The first goal demonstrated his ghost-like movement!
The second highlighted his impeccable shooting technique!
The third was a carbon copy of the legendary Ronaldo's signature goal!
And during that brief period when he stabilized the game, Suker had channeled Ronaldinho's flair.
His chameleon-like adaptability left the audience in awe.
It was as though the retired or fading stars of yesteryear had been resurrected right before their eyes.
In the 78th minute, the crowd gasped once more.
Gasp!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!—
The fans roared in unison.
They watched as Suker surged forward on a counterattack, his dribbling fierce and determined.
He pushed the ball forward with long, powerful strides.
The way he charged ahead…
"It's me! It's me! It's me!"
In the VIP box, Kaká pointed excitedly at the pitch.
His dribbling style was unmistakable—defined by long strides and the ability to maintain control at high speed.
It was difficult, but Suker executed it flawlessly.
Suker suddenly shifted direction repeatedly, destabilizing the opposing fullback before cutting inside with a sharp horizontal touch.
Ankle-breaker!
Suker drove inward, created just enough space, and unleashed a powerful shot.
The ball skimmed across the grass, flying toward the far corner of the goal.
Clang! Swish!
The ball struck the net and bounced in.
"That's the fourth!!"
"A poker!!!!!!—"
González's voice grew hoarse from shouting.
"And this one…"
On the pitch, Suker looked up, pointing both hands toward the sky in celebration.
By the 70th minute, Atlético Madrid had been forced into a substitution.
Mourinho intended to sub Suker off, but the striker vehemently shook his head.
He had imitated all those legends and scored—now it was time to save the best for last and cap it off with his own style!
The previous four goals had been acts of imitation, each scored using a different style.
And now, with Atlético's morale shattered, he knew he could score one more.
This time, it would be purely his own style!
Over the years, Suker had often pondered one question.
Since turning professional, he had continuously refined his skills through relentless practice.
But he had also been influenced by countless styles.
For a long time, he wondered what his own unique style truly was.
This match had given him the answer.
It wasn't about imitation or anything else.
The football he played was his own style!
When he scored, the crowd chanted his name, not the names of those legends.
He was indeed an amalgamation of different styles, but that, in itself, was his style!
So, his style was…
"Complete!"
Suker dropped back to the midfield line, controlling the ball with his thigh while glancing to the right before twisting and heel-passing the ball to Di María on the left.
He stepped forward, paused, and retreated.
Returning to his position, he received a return pass from Di María before switching play to Bale on the right.
After completing the pass, he immediately moved to support, executing a one-two with Bale to help the Welshman accelerate.
Suker then turned and sprinted into the penalty area.
Bale drove down the flank and crossed.
The cross was poorly placed, too close to the goal.
But…
It didn't matter!
Suker twisted his body and leaped, leaning backward as his left foot swung upward from below.
Boom!
Suker hung inverted in the air, his left foot connecting fiercely with the ball.
Thud.
Suker landed and turned to look at the goal.
Peering past a dejected Courtois, he saw the ball nestling gently in the net.
Boom!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!—
"The fifth goal!!!"
"Suker!!!!!!!! He has completely dismantled Atlético Madrid's defense!!"
"Five goals!! In just the second league match, Suker has scored five! His form shows no signs of declining—in fact, it's still rising!!"
"What a terrifying striker!"
"No! Suker isn't just a pure striker! After watching this match, after witnessing his versatile style, his dazzling dribbling and evasiveness, who would dare say he lacks technical ability?!"
"He is complete! He is the complete forward!"
"He is undoubtedly the greatest active player. I even believe he could become the world's third King after Pelé and Maradona."
Currently, only three players have been officially recognized by FIFA with such titles.
In the 2000s, Pelé and Maradona shared the title of 'O REI' in the "Player of the Century" poll.
Additionally, German legend Beckenbauer was awarded 'DER KAISER' (German: The Emperor).
González believed that if Suker continued his phenomenal performances, he only needed to prove himself in the World Cup to cement his place among the all-time greats.
With a World Cup title, Suker would undoubtedly be enshrined in the pantheon of football legends.
Moreover, if he achieved even more on the world stage, his legacy could earn him a unique, officially recognized title—distinct from "The King" or "The Emperor."
Peep!!!—
The referee's whistle sounded.
The official signaled for a substitution.
The Atlético Madrid players snapped out of their daze.
They watched as Suker walked toward the sideline.
He was breathing slightly heavily, but his steps were firm.
His figure wasn't particularly imposing, yet it loomed like a mountain, inspiring fear and respect.
In truth, from the second half onward, they had felt like empty shells, devoid of thought.
They had no idea how to contain this player.
They didn't even know how to play football anymore!
"Incredible!!"
Suker sat on the bench, a bright smile on his face.
With five goals, his tally for the season rose to seven.
Seven goals in two matches—he was firmly at the top of the scoring charts.
No matter how hard Messi tried, he couldn't score hat tricks game after game, let alone a poker.
As Suker reached for water, Mourinho personally handed him a bottle, even kindly twisting off the cap.
"Are you hungry? There are bananas over there…"
Seeing Mourinho's unusually warm smile, Suker couldn't help but shudder.
What was wrong with him?
Why was he being so nice?
Suker patted his stomach—he was indeed a little hungry.
Mourinho even peeled a banana and handed it to him.
The gesture reminded Suker of Ancelotti.
Suker relaxed and ate the banana.
The substitutes around him wore dazed expressions.
Suker's performance had left them in awe.
What kind of monster were they sharing a locker room with?
Suker's display couldn't simply be described as crazy.
It was the kind of performance that etched a player into history.
Even in a club as illustrious as Real Madrid, they had never seen a player this extraordinary.
They completely understood Mourinho's attitude.
If they were managers and had a player this exceptional, they wouldn't just fetch water—they'd be willing to do far more.
Especially for players like Callejón, who had dreams of making a name for themselves at Real Madrid and even surpassing Suker.
Now, they didn't even dare to dream.
It felt utterly unrealistic.
They had lost not just the confidence to challenge him but even the right to dream about it.
To survive at Real Madrid, they had to abandon any thought of rivaling Suker.
He was simply unbeatable.
They had never seen anything so absurd!
Facing him as an opponent, let alone trying to catch up to him, was beyond unrealistic.
In one match, Suker hadn't just crushed the opponent's confidence—he had also shattered his own teammates' self-assurance.