The All-Around Center Forward

If the earlier non-contact shooting drills had only mildly impressed everyone, then what followed—one-on-one offensive/defensive duels and shooting—fully demonstrated Suker's terrifying explosiveness.

The training pitch fell completely silent.

Everyone watched as Sergio Ramos was left utterly disoriented by Suker's footwork.

Suker repeatedly changed direction, probing Ramos's center of gravity. The moment Ramos overcommitted, Suker would create space and shoot.

Bang!Swish!

Goal again!With a slick feint, Suker nudged the ball past Ramos, then shot diagonally—a nutmeg and a finish.

Most shocking of all—this was Suker's ninth shot.

Nine attempts, nine goals.Not a single miss.

Both Ramos and Casillas were close to breaking down mentally.

"You can't stop Suker one-on-one!"

Marcelo shivered and said with disbelief.

As a defender, facing someone like Suker is a nightmare.

That ability to beat defenders and shoot in one motion—they'd only seen that level with Messi at Barcelona.

But unlike Messi, Suker had physicality too.

He wasn't as nimble, but he was sharper, more direct.

If Messi was a sword—elegant and elusive—Then Suker was a spear—thrust out like a dragon, one strike to kill.

"Again!"

Ramos gritted his teeth and got back up.

This drill was also part of his transition into a center-back.

If he could learn to defend Suker, he'd level up significantly.

The ball was passed to Suker.

He glanced at the panting, focused Ramos, whose eyes were now sharp and serious.

Suker began slowly dribbling forward to test him.

Ramos didn't charge in but lowered his center of gravity, trying to force Suker to the left, away from the goal, cutting off shooting angles.

Then Suker made a simple yet explosive feint.

Sudden stop and burst forward.

That alone created half a body's space.

"You're not scoring this time!"

Ramos lunged in with a sliding tackle, determined to block the shot.

But Suker didn't shoot—instead, he pushed the ball forward again and completely bypassed Ramos.

As Casillas charged out with arms wide, Suker subtly tapped the ball—

Swish!"A toe-poke finish?!"

Marcelo clutched his head:

"How the hell do you defend that?!"

Silence.

Exactly.How the hell do you defend that?!

"A lot of teams play man-marking against Suker, but most rely on zonal double-teaming. And there's a reason for that."

Pellegrini couldn't help but sigh in amazement.

Benzema was stunned:

"Now I get why he cost 100 million."

Watching Suker's performance, it was clear—you simply can't stop him one-on-one.

Even though Ramos hadn't fully matured yet, his talent and ability were already obvious.

And still, he was made to look like a training cone—beaten time after time.

Ten one-on-one duels. Ten goals. Not once did Ramos stop him.

"That's enough."

Pellegrini called off the drill.

Any more, and Ramos's mentality would be completely destroyed.

In truth, Ramos was already crushed.

His eyes carried a trace of fear as he looked at Suker—being beaten ten times in a row was a massive blow to his confidence.

Ramos slumped to the sideline and sat down, clearly shaken.

At that moment, he felt a sudden chill on the back of his neck—an icy sensation spreading down his spine.

He turned to see Suker holding an ice-cold energy drink, pressing it against his neck.

"Cool off," Suker said with a smile.

Ramos took the drink, forced a bitter smile:

"I didn't win once."

"This isn't a real match."

Suker shook his head.

"You played too clean. Defenders are always at a disadvantage. If you don't use physicality and intimidation, it's hard to stop me. But in a real game? You can come at me like you're trying to injure me. Who knows—I might flinch."

Ramos asked:

"Would you flinch?"

Suker smiled without answering, then pointed at his eyes:

"Picking your opponent is important. Go after the weak ones—they'll be scared."

"What about the tough ones?" Ramos asked.

Suker shrugged:

"Tough guys usually lose control easily. Just provoke them. They'll mess up on their own. A yellow card, then a red... sounds like a good trade, right?"

"A great trade!"

Ramos's eyes lit up—something clicked in his brain.

"You can do that?"

A voice startled them.

Both turned around—it was Pepe, standing behind them deep in thought.

Suker grinned:

"You? Don't bother. You can't pull it off."

"Why not?"

"Because you're the one who loses it first."

The two notorious bad boys of Real Madrid—Ramos and Pepe.

But their styles were very different.

Ramos was "dirty"—he knew how to play within the rules while maximizing advantage.

Pepe was "reckless"—he'd throw a slap before even getting provoked. Blood loss!

Still, having these kinds of players in a team was not a bad thing.

A double-edged sword, yes—but when used well, they add real value.

At the very least, they create psychological pressure on opponents.

Just like Gattuso at AC Milan—though a different type, the principle was the same.

Every great team needs an enforcer—But one that can be controlled.

Like Ramos.

Pepe, though? Often a liability.

The first day of camp was all basic drills.Pellegrini didn't even run a practice match.

He clearly wanted players to ease back into form before starting competitive drills.

Suker also made a conscious effort to blend into the team.

Real Madrid was not like AC Milan.

The locker room vibes were totally different.

Milan felt like a big family—jokes, banter, warmth.

Madrid felt like a corporate office—colleagues, not brothers.People could be friendly, but boundaries remained.

After training, the players gradually left.

Suker carried his sling bag out of the locker room and headed for the exit.

He hadn't gotten his driver's license yet, so he couldn't drive.

But he was working on that—it was on his to-do list.

No Kaká here to give him rides.

He exited the training ground and walked to the bus stop, just two stops from his villa—not far.

Bathed in the golden sunset, Suker looked at the unfamiliar surroundings, yet felt a strange energy in the air.

He had officially joined Real Madrid—his career was now truly on track.

From here on, it would be about constant progress, constant growth.

To keep pace with—or even outpace—those two monsters.

At the moment, he was ahead.

Two Champions Leagues

One European Championship

Two Ballon d'Ors

One FIFA World Player of the Year

Suker was leading.

Now it was about staying ahead.

But that would require the team's full support.

From today's training, Suker believed Real Madrid had enormous potential—they just needed time to awaken it.

That time was coming.

Screech!

The bus arrived. Suker boarded and headed home.

"How was the first day of training?""The Spanish players didn't give you trouble, did they? I've already spoken with the higher-ups.""Do you need anything else prepared to help you settle in?"

Zorančic chattered non-stop, clearly very anxious.

After all, this was Suker's second major transfer—and a blockbuster one.

Suker was his top client.

Unlike before, Zorančic was now focused on elevating Suker to legendary status.

With his current trajectory, winning a World Cup could make Suker the next true "King of Football"—after Maradona and Pelé.

And from Croatia, no less.

Just thinking about it filled Zorančic with excitement.

This could be historic—something that reshaped football itself. No room for mistakes.

In the kitchen, Suker quietly cooked dinner, tuning out Zorančic's rambling.

In the past, Suker might've gone out of his way to please people for the sake of his career.

But now?

I'm the 100-million-euro man.

Why should I be the one bending over backward?

In fact, Suker was Real Madrid's savior.

They should be rolling out the red carpet for him.