"GOAL!!!!!! Another goal!!!—My God!! Is this still the Hajduk we know?"
"That's the sixth goal!! Šuker and Mario Mandžukić have completely exploded!"
"They both completed hat-tricks!!"
"Here at the Poljud Stadium, under the watchful eyes of tens of thousands of Hajduk fans, they've put on a massacre performance!!"
"Unstoppable! Uncontainable!! Entering the second half of the season, Dinamo Zagreb has transformed into a different team—their style is aggressive and tenacious. They don't give their opponents a single breath of space. They use intense high pressing to strangle Hajduk bit by bit until they're completely suffocated!!"
"This is terrifying! These young players of Dinamo Zagreb have exceeded the level of the Croatian league. They're putting on a crazy goal-scoring show!"
Commentator Kraljević roared, his face filled with awe.
Even now, he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
This was Hajduk!
Not one of the bottom teams in the Croatian league—this was Hajduk!
But even Hajduk couldn't withstand Dinamo Zagreb's relentless waves of attacks. Their defense completely collapsed.
In 70 minutes, six goals.
Šuker and Mandžukić each scored three.
It was a complete blowout!!
"Well done!!"
On the sidelines, coach Bešić threw his arms with force, his face brimming with excitement.
This was the team he had envisioned—intense pressing, lightning-fast counterattacks, no wasted tempo, kill with a single blow.
Give them even a sliver of opportunity, and they'll shoot!
Of course, Šuker's contribution on the wing was immense.
"He's grown again!"
Davor Šuker grinned.
Watching Šuker's rapid improvement left Davor amazed.
When he first entered the Croatian league, he could still be contained. But now—his dribbling, his breakthroughs—he could twist defenders into knots even in a top-five league.
If Šuker were just a bit stronger physically, his explosive threat on the wing would be terrifying.
He can cut inside! Break through! Pass! Shoot!
No defender wants to face a player like this.
Absolutely none!
At the 75th minute, Šuker and Mandžukić were subbed off.
As they walked off, Bešić ran over and patter Šuker on the head.
"Brilliant game!"
He also rubbed Mandžukić's head for encouragement.
Šuker was delighted. This match, they finally clicked. The system worked perfectly.
The tactical execution was impressive.
A 6-0 scoreline proved it all!
But it had taken nine rounds to get here—an entire cycle of matches.
Since Round 20, Dinamo Zagreb had started implementing this high-press, high-energy system.
They had faced problems—like slow recovery in defense—but overcame them.
Now, in Round 29, they were reaping the rewards. And they had beaten Hajduk four times this season.
And this one was a massacre.
No wonder Bešić was thrilled!
"Feels like it's time."
Davor Šuker crossed his arms, standing sideways, looking at Bešić's back and said to Šuker, "Time to renegotiate terms?"
Previously, Bešić had still been angry.
Šuker and the others had been biding their time.
After this match, perhaps the time was right.
"Šuker!"
Bešić suddenly turned and pointed to the empty bench at the far right: "Sit over there!"
He glanced at Davor Šuker. "Stay away from him!"
Šuker grinned and got up. "Looks like we still have to wait."
Davor Šuker scratched his head. "I remember he wasn't this petty as a kid. Easy to coax."
What Bešić was like as a kid, Šuker didn't know.
But now, he had to play along. After all, he needed Bešić on his side.
Not the time yet—probably have to win the championship before renegotiating.
Of course, beyond all this, Šuker also wanted to stay for another year.
They had prepared so much for the Champions League.
Šuker dusted himself off and walked away, leaving Srna and the others stunned.
These were all future national teammates!
Did he want to ruin his rep already?
While the match was still ongoing, Šuker pretended to nap and opened his personal stats panel.
[Diamond Card (Special Type): Inzaghi's Awareness]
[Yellow Card (Special Type): Poschenoc's Interceptions]
[Yellow Card (Special Type): Sobot's Left Foot]
[Red Card (Special Type): Andre's Rocket Legs]
Six total card slots, four filled with special-type cards that boost natural talent.
The rest were skill cards, most of which Šuker had already absorbed over the past few months.
Especially [Platinum Card (Skill Card): Grealish's Dribbling], which gave Šuker a massive boost.
His dribbling was no longer stiff and solved the issue of awkwardness at high speed.
His body movement was more deceptive, making his breakthroughs sharper.
This was Šuker's biggest gain.
As for the [Recovery Card], it now quietly sat in the absorption panel—no red card icon, no skill card tag.
It had become a permanent card with a cooldown of 45 minutes.
Meaning Šuker could use it once every 45 minutes.
Attributes Panel:
Name: Šuker
Height: 170 cm
Weight: 59 kg
Speed: 82+13
Agility: 88
Strength: 75
Explosiveness: 92
He finally hit 170 cm!
Šuker nearly cried seeing it.
So hard-earned.
Mike Lister's nutrition meals really worked—finally 170 cm.
Other stats had improved too.
Only regret? Speed.
His base was 82, Andre's rocket legs added 15, so it should've been 97—but the card's effect capped it at 95.
Šuker guessed it was either the card's max boost limit or a low card level.
After 95, any improvement would need better cards or raw stat growth.
But he wasn't worried—95 was enough to be a speedster.
Even in top-five leagues, 95 speed made him a lightning-fast winger.
Šuker exhaled, looking at the pitch.
The game was nearly over.
Hajduk was demoralized.
Heads down, clearly shattered.
Especially goalkeeper Ljantović—his face was blank.
Conceding six goals is a massive blow to any keeper.
Every slaughtered team has a shell-shocked keeper.
The entire stadium was silent—like a library.
The remaining fans stared blankly at the scoreboard.
The huge "Hajduk 0:6 Dinamo Zagreb" score pierced their eyes.
"The match is over! Hajduk has suffered a catastrophic loss—not that they played poorly. In fact, they were in decent form. It's just that Dinamo Zagreb has been too dominant since the second half of the season."
"When Bešić rebuilt the team, he said he wanted to sweep the Croatian league. Now, they're unbeaten in 29 rounds and top the table!"
"Their record: 23 wins, 6 draws, 0 losses!, 75 points."
"Lokomotiva Zagreb follows with 22-3-4, 69 points, second place."
"Hajduk is third with 21-4-4, 67points."
"Both Lokomotiva and Hajduk's four losses were all against Dinamo Zagreb!"
Even commentator Kraljević couldn't help grinning.
Dinamo Zagreb had always been dominant.
But this season, their strength felt suffocating!
Their level had surpassed the Croatian league's limits!
After such a resounding win, both players and coach were ecstatic.
But most exciting of all? The new tactics were now fully integrated—and extremely effective.
However, young players never feel satisfied.
"Dujmović, you should push up more! You missed several long-shot chances!"
"When I overlap, Šuker, stop crowding me."
"If I don't, you'll lose the ball."
"I won't—I'm confident in my technique."
"I'm not confident in you!"
Srna was speechless.
If someone else had said that, he would've snapped back.
But anyone who had seen Šuker's dribbling knew—it was untouchable.
He was already scary in the first half of the season.
Now, he was a demon on the wing!
Everyone feared him!
Even if you matched his speed, you couldn't keep up with his footwork.
And even if you could, one fake move and you'd be embarrassed.
On top of that, his passing and shooting were precise—he was an all-around offensive weapon.
The only way to stop him? Foul.
Exploit his weak physique and bring him down.
But if you lose track of him, you'll never catch up.