"Barcelona's public security is in a dangerous state. A large number of Real Madrid fans have appeared on the streets of Barcelona, constantly clashing with local fans. Since yesterday, fights have been breaking out one after another. We urge ordinary citizens not to go to the following specific areas unless absolutely necessary."
That morning's Barcelona news was filled with reports of fierce clashes between fans of both sides.
In the past, El Clásico between Barcelona and Real Madrid was always fiery, but never to the point where it felt like a war.
However, now that mutual hostility has deepened and extreme stances have been fueled, fans from both sides have begun to display extremely aggressive behavior.
Barcelona police had practically mobilized their entire force, dividing the city into different zones.
They even considered restricting the movement of Real Madrid fans to certain areas to reduce contact between the two sides, but this sparked great dissatisfaction among the Madrid supporters.
They believed Barcelona was discriminating against them, which only led to further unrest.
From last night onward, the entire city had been in turmoil, with continuous incidents of fan violence.
Inside Suker's room, Srna was watching the news and couldn't help but grin:
"This is a bit too intense, huh? Feels like it's on par with the fiery Balkan derbies!"
Even now, Srna could recall the eyes of Red Star Belgrade fans back when he played against them — eyes that looked like they wanted to tear him apart.
Now, Barcelona fans were looking at him with the same hatred.
Suker also watched the reports, sensing that something wasn't right.
El Clásico was always intense, yes, but it usually stayed within acceptable bounds — this, however, was crossing the line.
The Dinamo Zagreb vs. Red Star Belgrade "Balkan Derby" had once been the spark that ignited a war, built on deep-rooted hatred.
But El Clásico wasn't supposed to be like that!
Yet ever since Suker joined Real Madrid, the animosity had grown stronger.
Mourinho's arrival and some of his statements had only further stirred the atmosphere.
And now, with the rapid rise of the internet era, online quarrels had been exploited by certain malicious media outlets, who fanned the flames, guiding and amplifying conflicts until both camps were locked in extreme opposition.
On TV, there was even footage of Madrid fans being beaten with batons by local police and driven away.
Regardless of the backstory, watching such scenes made the Madrid players' blood boil.
For Barcelona, these might be "rioters."
But for Real Madrid, they were supporters!
Knock, knock!
Srna opened the door to find Ramos standing there, his face tense as if he was barely suppressing his anger.
Soon Ramos came in, followed by Casillas, Alonso, Khedira, and other Spanish core players.
The small room was soon packed tight.
"You saw the morning news, right?"
Casillas crossed his arms, lips pressed together:
"I didn't expect to see something like that."
Suker nodded.
"Yeah, it's a bit…"
He didn't know how to finish. Regardless of the reasons, for Madrid, those images were infuriating — and the fact that they were being shown on the news only rubbed salt in the wound.
For locals in Barcelona, it might be satisfying to watch. For Madrid, it was enraging.
"This is how they treat our fans? This is already beyond football." Ramos was fuming.
Khedira frowned:
"Makes you angry just watching. My good mood's gone already."
Casillas looked straight at Suker:
"We can't lose today's match."
"We can't lose any match," Suker nodded, "but this one is special!"
"Beat Barcelona!"
"Crush them!" Ramos growled.
From that morning onward, Real Madrid felt like a powder keg ready to explode.
By midday, Mourinho faced the media.
He furiously criticized the Barcelona police:
"They dispersed our fans as if they were criminals or rioters. They were simply engaging in traditional pre-match activities. And Barcelona can't even tolerate that? We will hold them accountable and speak up for the injured fans!"
Then he raised four fingers:
"Do you know what this means?"
The reporters gulped. The Special One never failed to deliver headlines.
The four fingers meant they had beaten Barcelona four times in a row.
Mourinho slowly raised a fifth finger.
"This will be the fifth!"
The press erupted.
This was an open declaration of war — Real Madrid was coming to conquer Camp Nou.
"Damn Portuguese!"
"Who does he think he is?"
"Conquer Barcelona? We'll kick his ass!"
At Barcelona's training base, everyone was furious watching TV.
Guardiola's eyes were sharp.
He still hadn't gotten over losing the Spanish Super Cup, and now he had the chance to restore pride at home.
This time, they had no injuries, and Messi was fully fit.
They would give Real Madrid a lesson.
"Stick to the plan! Let's show these arrogant Madrid bugs what we're made of!" Guardiola was genuinely angry now.
Match Day
At 4 p.m., roads to Camp Nou were split — one path for Barça fans, one for Madrid fans — with police stationed at every intersection, fully equipped with riot shields and forks instead of batons.
Even so, the fans stood at the street corners, hurling insults across the divide.
Madrid fans:
"To hell with Camp Nou! Disgusting Barcelonans!"
"You Madrid bugs belong in the sewer!"
"You midgets need to shrink your goalposts — and even then Suker will blast you!"
Barcelona fans:
"Shut up! Suker's nothing compared to Messi!"
"One Ballon d'Or mocking two Ballon d'Ors? Disgusting!"
"Without teammates he's nothing!"
Police were exasperated — Spaniards fighting over an Argentinian and a Croatian.
Approaching the stadium, the noise grew. Temporary barriers had been set up, but fans were still climbing and shoving, with riot police struggling to hold them back.
Half an hour later, as the sun set, the team buses arrived.
Fans erupted — Barça supporters shouting to destroy Madrid, Madrid supporters yelling to conquer Camp Nou.
Stepping off the bus, players instantly felt the heat of the atmosphere.
They were rushed straight into the stadium to avoid further provocation.
Inside, the walls themselves seemed to vibrate with the noise from outside.
"It's fiery out there," Srna exhaled.
"Get ready," Suker said seriously. "This match will be… special."
"Special?"
"You'll see soon enough."
Kick-off
Warmups were drowned in boos and insults. The match would test not just skill, but mental toughness.
In the locker room, Mourinho gathered the team:
"Remember — this is not just a match, this is war! Ten thousand Barça fans are waiting to see us fail. We will respond with power. Victory belongs to Real Madrid!"
"Victory belongs to Real Madrid!" Casillas roared.
The team thundered out, but Mourinho grabbed Srna:
"Keep an eye on the others. The emotions are high — stop them from going overboard."
He knew Ramos and Pepe were yellow-card magnets.
Suker also warned Casillas to keep Ramos and Pepe in check.
"I understand. I'll remind them," Casillas nodded.
"Leave the goals to me," Suker said confidently.
Starting lineups:
Barcelona (4-3-3)GK: ValdésDEF: Alves, Puyol, Piqué, AbidalMID: Iniesta, Busquets, XaviFW: Messi, Villa, Pedro
Real Madrid (4-3-3)GK: CasillasDEF: Srna, Ramos, Pepe, MarceloMID: Khedira, Alonso, Di MaríaFW: Kaká, Benzema, Suker
First Half
Madrid kicked off. Immediately, Barça pressed high, making it hard for Alonso to turn and face forward.
Srna fought Pedro for the ball, winning a throw-in. Khedira threw to Srna, who chipped a half-volley switch across the field to Marcelo.
Marcelo advanced and fed Suker, who received with his back to goal — only to feel a knee to the back of his leg from Busquets, sending him stumbling forward.
"Damn it!"
The whistle blew — foul, but no card.
As Suker got up, suddenly Busquets fell to the ground clutching his face.
Pepe was in his face, spitting words like he was ready to fight.
Yellow card for Pepe.
Suker covered his face in disbelief.
"Pepe, thanks… I guess."
Early yellow for a center-back — a gift for Barcelona, who would surely target him now.
Suker glanced at Casillas:
"Why didn't you stop him?"
Casillas scratched his cheek awkwardly — Pepe had already charged in before he could react.