Chapter 142: The Fatal Strike!

Suker began sprinting wildly back and forth! He barely took any rest at all, running constantly, shifting continuously. From the opponent's half, he sprinted all the way back to defend. From his own half, he dashed up to attack again. Suddenly, the match took on a strange quality. The center of the pitch still looked like a normal football match. But on the left wing—it had turned into a marathon rally! Suker sprinted again and again. Inside, he kept cursing. So you like following me, huh? Come on then! Keep up, little punk! I'll run you into the ground! When Suker finally stopped, Melenic had just caught up again. But his chest was heaving like a bellows, his breath coming in ragged gasps, tinged with the sound of dry heaving. His face had gone pale, and his eyes showed unmistakable fear as he looked at Suker. How can this guy run so much? Suker wasn't exactly in perfect shape himself, but he was doing far better than Melenic. As Melenic looked at him, Suker widened his eyes—then turned and bolted off again. This time, there was no pressure from behind. He immediately felt overjoyed. Tired out, are you? When he turned to glance back, he saw Melenic gesturing for a substitution. 35th minute—Red Star Belgrade made a substitution. Melenic off, Machecolia on. Machecolia, just entering the pitch, took over the "relay baton" and once again stuck to Suker. Suker: "..." Halftime. First half ended in a 0–0 draw. Without Suker, Dinamo Zagreb still managed a few threatening attacks—but couldn't convert. Meanwhile, Suker was completely entangled by Red Star's marking. "I've already run one of them off the field, but these shameless guys brought on another!" Suker grumbled angrily. "Just replaced him with a fresh one!" Besic looked at Suker, clearly conflicted. Did Suker perform poorly? No! To stay effective, Suker had been running constantly, draining the opponent's defender's stamina. But who would have thought Red Star would be this shameless? One ran out of gas, and they just subbed in a fresh one to keep tailing him! Suker was being targeted. And it was a downright insane level of targeting! Red Star had clearly decided that besides Suker, Zagreb didn't have many viable threats on offense. "MARIO! Score, man! What are you waiting for!" Suker shouted at Mandzukic. Mandzukic spread his arms: "I'm jumping for everything, but the passes aren't accurate!" Besic paused, then said, "Mario, second half, drop back more—pull their defensive line out, then attack together with the team." "Huh?" Mandzukic looked confused. Suker held up three fingers. "Tactic number three!" "Oh!" Mandzukic suddenly understood and nodded. "Got it!" Besic turned to Suker. "Suker! Can you still run?" If Suker couldn't keep running, he'd need to be subbed out immediately. Suker jumped off the bench. "Watch me run another one off!" Everyone burst out laughing. Especially the substitutes—they stared at Suker with looks of pure shock. How could a person run this much? Just his first-half exertions would have completely drained any of them. And this guy still looked full of energy! Seeing Rakitic's stunned face, Srna grinned and said, "Here at Dinamo Zagreb, our physical evaluation has a special rating." "What?" Rakitic asked curiously. Srna pointed at Suker: "Mule!" Back at Mostar Wanderers, Oripe had put him through some unique stamina training. Suker had built his physical foundation there. Then, under Fanstjak's all-out pressing system at Zrinjski Mostar, his fitness grew even more. But Suker's biggest "bug" was still his Recovery Card. Second half—Suker came out fresh as ever. He'd already run one guy off the field. He didn't mind running off another. If they had the guts, let them throw a third sub at him. Using two sub slots just to cover Suker? Totally worth it. Suker began his marathon-style duel again on one side. Meanwhile, Mandzukic and the others repeatedly attacked the defensive line. This time, Mandzukic no longer stuck close to the back line—he dropped back, distributed wide, and helped Srna and Valjevic cut inward, squeezing Red Star's defense. Modric and Dujmovic went out wide to overlap. As for tracking back to defend—Suker had it covered. He was already running marathons—might as well help with defense while he was at it. "Dinamo Zagreb is swarming forward now. With Mandzukic dropping back, they've adjusted their attack—compressing from the flanks and trying to open space on the outside." "Meanwhile, Modric and Dujmovic keep putting in crosses and even trying long-range shots!" At that moment, Modric curled a shot at goal. "This shot—!!" Commentator Krawsivic gasped. It looked good! The ball arced toward the top-right corner. The keeper was on the left and couldn't get there in time. But Red Star's right back Markovic happened to be on the right post. He leapt sideways desperately— Clang! The ball ricocheted off Markovic's head, then smacked the crossbar, rebounding into the penalty area. Instantly, chaos erupted inside the box. "MARIO!! GO!!" Modric shouted in frustration. Mandzukic stormed into the box, using his brute strength to fight for the ball. Players tangled everywhere, kicking wildly—total chaos. Then, the ball struck center-back Savic's ankle and spun out of the box... ...to the left side of the 18-yard line. A space that should have been empty—but suddenly, a figure appeared. Familiar blue #9 jersey. Familiar sidestep shooting form. Commentator Krawsivic shot up from his seat, electricity surging through his brain. "SUKER!!!!!!!——" WHOOOOOOOOSH!!!!!!!!!!!! The entire stadium erupted. Tens of thousands of Dinamo Zagreb fans leapt to their feet. At the dugout, everyone jumped up as well. Under everyone's gaze, Suker pivoted and swung his left leg mightily. With his momentum and full calf power, the ball flew like a missile—skimming the ground, slicing through the crowded box—and slammed into the goalkeeper's planted foot. Crap! The Red Star keeper felt a jolt of pain in his ankle. He tried to shift his weight, but his supporting leg was trapped under his body's full weight—he couldn't move. The ball deflected off his ankle—and rolled straight into the net. "GOAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!——" "SUKER!! It's Suker!! He lost his marker and appeared in the deadliest zone!" "A brilliant strike! He gives Dinamo Zagreb a crucial goal!" "77th minute—when the team was running out of time, Suker scored with his only shot of the match!" "Just when someone needed to step up—Suker became the hero once again!" Commentator Krawsivic shouted in pure excitement: "The one who scored for us is—" SUKER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!—— The stadium exploded with joy. This was a clutch goal. A life-saving goal! With this, the aggregate was now 2–2. But Zagreb had the crucial away goal! The scales finally tipped in their favor. Thud! Suker collapsed onto the ground, his chest rising and falling violently. He was exhausted. Looking over, he saw Machecolia bent over, gasping for breath. That relentless marathon on the wing... He had finally shaken him off. And in that exact moment, Suker darted forward—and found his golden opportunity. Right at the half-space! His favorite spot—and the one where his shot accuracy was highest. "Suker! Suker! Hahaha! He's unbelievable!" In the dugout, assistant coach Kleiman hugged Besic and cheered. Besic, meanwhile, was frozen as he stared at the pitch. At Suker lying on the ground—and Machecolia bent over nearby. He really had shaken him off. He'd drained two players' stamina bars in one match. In that moment, Besic gained a whole new appreciation for Suker's fitness. This wasn't just "mule" level. He was unkillable. But even the "unkillable" Suker had finally reached his limit. He dry-heaved and signaled for a sub. Draining two players in one match—even with his recovery card, he was utterly spent. There was no reason to leave him on the field anymore. Besic immediately made the change. Suker and Valjevic off. Schildenfeld and Strinic on. Their job was simple: Protect the lead. Hold the score, and Zagreb would go through on away goals. And they'd win the match, too. As Suker walked off, the substitutes looked at him differently now. Awe, admiration, disbelief... Suker had been "missing" for 70 minutes. But the moment he appeared—he sealed the game. This kind of player... This kind of efficiency... Was what all pros dreamed of. And more importantly—when things got tough, Suker never complained. He focused on solving the problem. His actions spoke volumes to the younger players about what professionalism really meant. Bleh! On the bench, Suker dry-heaved again. Rakitic handed him a trash can. Looking at him seriously, he said, "You're incredible." Whether it was praise or a joke, Suker had no energy to care. He rinsed his mouth, spat into the bin, and finally felt a bit better.