Busquets broke into a cold sweat.
He nervously glanced at his teammates, and only after seeing Maxwell controlling the ball did he finally let out a sigh of relief.
Suker's sudden interference terrified him.
No one expected Suker to show up so precisely on his passing lane.
"Was it a coincidence?"
Busquets was tense.
The ball was passed back to Busquets again. This time, he scanned the field early, especially focusing on Suker's position.
Only when he found that Suker was a bit far away did he feel safe to receive the ball.
Busquets received the ball and turned, his eyes looking toward Yaya Touré and Iniesta, intending to make a penetrating pass.
At the same time, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Suker was closely tracking him.
Yaya Touré was moving out wide from behind Suker.
Busquets kept his eyes on Iniesta and immediately made a passing motion.
The next second, Suker suddenly shifted left.
Damn it!It wasn't a coincidence!
Busquets cursed loudly!
He thought his choice of passing lane was hidden enough. He didn't even glance at Yaya Touré, who was in Suker's blind spot.
But Suker still made the most appropriate defensive move.
Busquets' mind was a mess.
Just as he was about to pass sideways, captain Puyol shouted.
"Pass the ball! What are you doing?! Behind you!"
Panicking, Busquets poked the ball with his toe just in time to avoid being sandwiched by Benzema and Higuaín.
"Busquets is struggling to get the ball out!" Gonzalez exclaimed. "He broke into Barcelona's lineup last season and quickly established himself as a starter with excellent performances. This season, he's been a key link in Barça's midfield, connecting the defense and attack—but now, it seems like he's frozen in place!"
"I don't think I'm seeing things!"
Gonzalez looked baffled.
On the pitch, Busquets kept glancing around for Suker, who circled him constantly. Every time Busquets got the ball, Suker appeared in the most uncomfortable positions, interfering with his passing.
Busquets didn't know what this awful feeling was, but it was truly unbearable.
On the other hand, Suker grew more and more excited.
He felt like he had unlocked a new ability from his card system.
[Platinum Card (Special) – Busquets' Awareness!]
This was the awareness-type card Suker had equipped for the match. To wear it, he even unequipped his other awareness-type card, [Inzaghi's Awareness].
The effect was obvious.
Suker understood Busquets thoroughly—his passing preferences, intended moves, and could even predict him.
Busquets felt so uncomfortable because Suker was operating on the same mental wavelength.
Whenever Busquets had an idea, Suker could "overhear" it.
Of course, that's metaphorical—but the effect was close enough.
Suker's focus on Busquets was no coincidence.
He carefully inched closer into a threatening range.
Suker knew exactly the distance needed to pressure Busquets.
He slowly moved forward, bit by bit.
Busquets was sweating bullets.
At this moment, Puyol passed the ball toward him.
"Don't pass it to me!"
Busquets shouted.
But it was too late—Puyol had already played the pass.
At the same time, Suker exploded into a sprint, charging at Busquets.
"Damn it!"
Busquets didn't dare hesitate. He ran to meet the ball, intending to return it.
But Suker was too fast. In an instant, he caught up to Busquets.
They collided fiercely before the ball arrived.
Suker slammed into Busquets.
Busquets also rammed into Suker.
Even if he couldn't shield the ball, he wanted to knock Suker down.
BANG!!
They collided hard.
Busquets was sent flying by Suker.
Suker stumbled but managed to hook the ball in front of himself with his right foot.
"He got it!! Suker!!" Gonzalez roared. "Barcelona is in danger!!—"
Suker stabilized himself and charged directly into the penalty area.
Benzema and Higuaín rushed in alongside him, drawing defenders away.
"Damn it!"
Puyol panicked and charged toward Suker.
As Suker entered the box, Puyol arrived to intercept.
Suker shifted the ball and stepped sideways.
Puyol hurriedly followed.
Suker shifted again.
Puyol kept up, but this time his balance faltered.
Suker shifted a third time.
Puyol's right foot stretched out, but his left couldn't follow—he almost did the splits.
Suker finally created enough space.
He looked up and struck the ball with his right foot.
Like lightning, the ball shot toward the far post.
Barça's keeper was positioned to the right—he couldn't reach it in time.
The ball slammed off the post and ricocheted into the net.
SWOOSH!!
The ball hit the net.
The entire Bernabéu Stadium fell silent.
Real Madrid fans instinctively looked at the clock.
3 minutes and 11 seconds!Only 3 minutes into the match, and Suker had completed a pressing interception and scored.
BOOMMMMMMMMMMMM!!——
The stadium exploded!
Tens of thousands of Real Madrid fans jumped to their feet.
"Gooooooooooooooooooal!!"
"Oh my god! Suker! A brilliant counterattack goal!""An insane solo effort!""From interception to goal, Suker did it all alone!""This is unbelievable!""Against Barcelona! Suker kept pressing until Busquets cracked, stole the ball, and scored!""This is Suker!""His firepower doesn't waver, even against Barcelona!"
Suker ran toward the stands and leapt into the air, fist raised high, under the wild cheers of the crowd.
The goal came out of nowhere—
But it ignited the stadium.
Suker's teammates swarmed him.
"Dude! That was amazing!"
"How did you even do that?"
"Goal! Goal!"
They surrounded Suker in celebration.
To score first against Barcelona—what kind of monster was this guy?
On Real Madrid's bench, coach Pellegrini yanked out a tuft of his own hair.
The moment Suker scored, he raised his hand in celebration—and pulled too hard.
His scalp hurt, but excitement overcame it.
Pellegrini celebrated ecstatically.
They were ahead!
What a perfect start!
Guardiola rubbed his bald head.
His eyes widened—he had no idea how Suker did it.
It was as if Suker knew everything about Busquets.
He kept showing up in Busquets' passing lanes, applying pressure and interfering.
Under repeated pressure, Busquets could only pass backward.
And the miscommunication with Puyol gave Suker the chance to pounce.
Of course, Suker was key.
But Madrid's team movement also perfectly cut off Busquets' other passing options.
Most teams, when facing Barça, focused entirely on stopping Messi.
But Madrid took a different route—cut off their build-up at the source.
Busquets, the lone defensive midfielder—if he's neutralized, it's a massive threat to Barça.
Still, subbing him off now would be too soon.
Guardiola could only hope Busquets composed himself and played better.
Taking him off now would be a huge blow to his confidence.
Busquets sat on the ground, dazed.
It felt awful, but it truly did seem like Suker could read his mind.
"You're joking…"
Busquets muttered.
Barcelona started to counter after falling behind.They wouldn't let Madrid dominate like this.
Yaya Touré dropped back to help Busquets, and the ball reached Messi.
But—
"I'm here!" Suker's voice echoed as he closed in from behind.
"Get him!"
Alonso moved up quickly to press.
Trapped between two players, Messi remained calm. He shifted the ball inside, but Suker had already gotten ahead of him.
Alonso blocked the outside route.
Together, they cut off Messi's dribbling path.
Messi didn't want to pass back. He looked up for teammates.
But they were all tightly marked by Madrid players.
No forward options—Messi could only go it alone.
He gritted his teeth and shifted the ball inside again.
Most players can't handle Messi's dribbles—it requires insane agility.
But Suker, despite an off-balance stance, mirrored Messi's every move.
His core strength was monstrous.
"Damn!"
Messi grew uneasy watching Suker react to his every feint.
Seizing the moment, Alonso poked the ball.
It went behind Messi.
"I'm off!"
Suker suddenly burst forward.
"Get back!" Messi shouted.
He chased back angrily.
Fueled by humiliation, Messi chased from the inside lane. Yaya Touré stood ahead of Suker.
If Suker kept going straight, he'd be trapped.
So he slowed his stride.
As Messi caught up, Suker used the outside of his foot to nutmeg Messi!
"Oh~~~ a nutmeg change of direction!"
He grabbed Messi's back, shoved him, and used the force to accelerate diagonally toward Barça's goal.
"Here comes Suker again! He's been so active!"
He charged fiercely.
Facing Barça's compact defense, Suker passed wide to Higuaín and sprinted into the box.
Higuaín crossed from the flank—but it wasn't a good delivery.
The keeper punched it away.
The ball fell to an open area—Busquets and Benzema raced for it.
After a physical tussle, Benzema fired a shot.
Even though it missed, he couldn't risk letting Barça counter.
Sure enough, the ball soared out of play into the stands.
Crowd: WOWWWWW!!!
Clap clap clap clap!!
Though it wasn't on target, Madrid fans loved it.
Suker's performance was simply too good.
He tracked back to help defend Messi and nutmegged him—too satisfying.
Barça fans always hyped up Messi's dribbling—Madrid fans were fed up.
But now Suker had embarrassed their "dribbling king."
Suker ran back again.
"He's so active!"
Gonzalez praised.
So far, Suker was undoubtedly the best player on the pitch.
As he passed Messi, the Argentine glared at him.
Being nutmegged stung.
Guardiola frowned.
Something felt off.
Barça was losing their rhythm after the goal.
Yaya Touré didn't slow things down.
If Xavi were playing, he might have calmed them.
But Messi's face said it all—he had lost his composure.
Being nutmegged—especially after losing possession—was a blow to his pride.
"Leo, calm down!"
Guardiola shouted.
But Messi stared ahead, ignoring him.
He was furious.
The media kept comparing him to Suker.
As if his worth only existed in contrast to Suker.
Just because Suker had more trophies?
Messi gritted his teeth.
He had to dribble past Suker.
13th minute, Messi got the ball.
"I'm here!"
Suker arrived again.
16th minute, Messi on the wing.
"I'm here again!"
22nd minute, Messi received a pass.
"I'm here!"
Messi flinched and immediately passed sideways.
But in his panic, he overhit it.
The ball bounced off Iniesta's leg—straight to Diarra.
Suker jogged over.
"I'm late!"
Messi's face turned red.
Suker hadn't even been behind him—but yelled anyway, scaring Messi into a poor pass.
Iniesta looked confused.
Messi saw teammates frowning at him.
He knew his mindset was off.
He lowered his head and jogged back.
Suker watched him and murmured:
"He's tilting."
Alonso nodded, then gave Suker a strange look.
Suker's "I'm here!" really got under Messi's skin.
"You did that on purpose?"
Suker shrugged: "Worked pretty well, didn't it?"
Spanish commentator:"Messi looks stiff—like he's out of sync with the team. Every player wants to shine, but the team must come first!"
"Stay calm—we need to equalize!"
Puyol shouted: "Leo, calm down!"
But Messi, stubborn and proud, wouldn't.
And Suker challenged him at his proudest skill—dribbling.
Messi would never back down.
"Looks like he's gonna go berserk again!"Busquets shook his head.
Messi had a habit.
Whenever he got mad, he'd try to beat everyone and humiliate the opponent.
"Despite Madrid's sharp counters, Barça still dominate possession. Can they—oh~~~ Messi!"
Messi got the ball and immediately burst laterally, flying past Diarra and charging toward Gago.
Time for a dribbling show.
"I'm here!"
Suker closed in fast.
He beat Messi in pace and reached Gago's side.
But Messi didn't slow down.
As Gago rushed in, Messi pulled off an "elastico" to blow past him.
Then—he locked eyes on Suker's feet.
Suker stepped forward with his right foot.
Messi's eyes lit up.
"Now!"
He did a reverse elastico, trying to pass Suker on the outside.
"Got him!"
He was about to surge past—
But then—
SWOOSH!Suker crouched low, pivoted on his right, and swept his left leg across.
A sweep tackle!!
Messi's smile froze.
I… I was past him!
The world spun as he tripped over the ball.
He practically somersaulted and crashed to the ground.
Suker took the ball, quickly passed it to Higuaín, and roared:
"Counterattack!!"
He was gasping—he needed to catch his breath.
Then he looked back.
Messi lay on the ground.
From Messi's view, Suker stood tall, looming like a mountain—so massive, so oppressive, he couldn't breathe.