Chapter 366: The Real God!
"Zlatan Ibrahimović! The superstar striker from Sweden — what a phenomenal performance tonight!"
"He's completely outshone Suker! He's made everyone else look like supporting actors!"
"This towering man spreads his arms like a victorious warrior returning from battle!"
"That's right! He is Inter Milan's fiercest warrior!"
"Come on, Inter Milan fans! Shout his name with all you've got! His name is Zlatan!"
IBRAHIMOVIĆ!!!!!!!!!!!
At San Siro Stadium, the roar of over 2,000 Inter Milan fans drowned out everything else.
They looked at the AC Milan fans clutching their heads in despair, and their hearts swelled with pride.
Yes!
This is what they used to feel — in those damn years of defeat, time and again, they were trapped in this miserable feeling.
Now it was finally AC Milan's turn to suffer!
Thinking of this, the Inter Milan fans erupted into even louder cheers.
Meanwhile, in bars all across Milan, Inter supporters were already raising their arms and celebrating wildly.
Yes!
Suker scored a hat trick in the last Milan derby.
But that was last season.
This time, they won't let that happen again.
Inter Milan has been reborn — they are the Nerazzurri, the only kings of Milan!
In this moment, Inter fans proudly chanted their slogan:
Victory belongs to Inter Milan!
Victory belongs to Inter Milan!
Victory belongs to Inter Milan!
On the sidelines, Ancelotti immediately made substitutions.
Ambrosini and Jankulovski stood by, ready to come on.
AC Milan subbed off Gilardino and Simic.
At the 55th minute, there was still time to turn things around.
But even Ancelotti wasn't confident.
Inter Milan looked way too strong tonight.
AC Milan not only needed to score, but also hold their defense.
That was an incredibly difficult task.
On the pitch, Suker returned to midfield holding the ball. He instinctively shouted, "Kak—"
Before he could finish, he saw Kaka's eyes—cold and dark.
It was rare to see such an expression in the usually gentle Kaka. He had been thoroughly provoked.
Kaka was gritting his teeth, his jaw muscles bulging, visibly furious.
For any AC Milan player, being mocked at San Siro was unbearable.
Especially when Ibrahimović celebrated like a god, towering over the AC Milan fans.
A man fights for pride, just like a god seeks worship.
This humiliation could not stand!
"AC Milan has made their substitutions, but Inter Milan hasn't yet — clearly they're waiting to observe the situation."
"For AC Milan, even if they score next, it'll just be an equalizer..."
As commentator Aldo Serena finished speaking, Kaka received the ball up front.
This time, he didn't hesitate.
He lifted the ball over Vieira's sliding tackle and burst forward in long strides.
"Kaka's charging forward!"
Suker saw this and sprinted ahead, locking onto the defensive line.
He fixed his sharp gaze on Kaka.
Was this his power-up mode?
Bang!
Kaka was taken down hard — ball and all.
Suker winced.
Kaka quickly got back up and sprinted toward the box for the set piece.
Pirlo stepped up to take the free kick.
Suker and Kaka both rushed in to meet it.
Suker was still tangled up, but Kaka leapt powerfully and smashed a furious header—
Thud!
Their heads collided — Kaka and Córdoba.
Even Suker felt the pain just watching it.
Córdoba collapsed in agony. Kaka rose with a swollen forehead and growled: "Get up, coward! Don't make me look down on you!"
Then he turned and walked away as Gattuso and Nesta stepped in to de-escalate.
From that moment, Kaka's dribbles became sharper, more aggressive.
Suker stuck close to him.
Kaka was charging like a man possessed, with no fear of injury — like a berserker.
This relentless pace made him increasingly dangerous, putting more pressure on Inter's backline.
"Stop him!"
Vieira tried to catch up, but realized Kaka was too fast.
He could only chase from behind, eating dust.
Near the edge of the box, Kaka faced a double-team, but shoved through the gap with a burst of speed.
"KAKA!!!!——"
Aldo Serena shouted.
Kaka broke through the defense, nearly stumbling, but still managed a fierce side-foot shot.
The ball rocketed toward the near post.
Inter goalkeeper César split his legs and deflected it with his shin.
The ball popped up in front of the small box.
"Clear it quick—!"
Before he could finish, a red-and-black figure lunged at the ball.
It was smashed into the net.
Suker landed carefully to avoid injury.
Confirming the goal, he raced into the net, grabbed the ball, and dashed back to midfield.
"We're pulling back! We've still got time!"
Suker waved and shouted.
The AC Milan players who had been waiting to celebrate froze for a second, then had fire in their eyes.
Yes!
The game isn't over!
They weren't playing for a draw.
"SUKER!! Diving header! A brilliant follow-up shot!!"
"I take back what I said earlier. Ibrahimović was brilliant, but he couldn't eclipse Suker's brilliance!"
"Two central strikers — one from Sweden, the other from Croatia — both have two goals. AC Milan have equalized!"
"Kaka's dribble and shot were world-class, and Suker's follow-up was absolutely clutch."
"Inter has Ibrahimović. AC Milan has Suker!"
San Siro, just moments ago quiet, now exploded.
This equalizer was crucial.
And Suker's actions made one thing clear — it wasn't over yet!
They still wanted another goal!
Even commentator Aldo Serena couldn't help but say:
"Last season, before Christmas, Suker scored a hat trick away from home in the Milan derby. Is he about to do it again at home tonight?"
"This would be absolutely heartbreaking for Inter Milan fans!"
Now Inter fans were getting nervous.
They prayed silently.
Someone stop this Croatian!
He can't be allowed to keep playing like this.
But the tension was so thick, they couldn't even speak.
They could only stare at the pitch.
At the 67th minute, Inter attacked again.
Ibrahimović kept charging the defense.
He was in blazing form tonight.
Facing the aging Maldini, he had the upper hand.
"Kakha Kaladze, warm up! Be ready!"
Ancelotti gritted his teeth.
This would be the final substitution.
Maldini couldn't hold on anymore.
As Kaladze stepped up, Nesta won a header and passed to Pirlo.
Pirlo passed forward. Suker, who had dropped back, received it and spun toward the wing.
Maicon tried to follow and contain him.
But Suker was unbelievably agile — seemingly unfazed by fatigue.
At the edge of the box, Suker pulled off a series of feints, then crossed.
Kaka cut inside diagonally, leaped, and volleyed sideways.
The ball struck the crossbar and bounced out.
"Ohhh~~ Kaka! So close! But there's another chance — Seedorf controls and shoots!"
The ball skimmed along the ground toward the Inter goal.
This time, César made a fantastic save.
He dove and blocked the shot with his right hand.
The ball flew out of the box and was controlled by the onrushing Ambrosini.
"Two shots in a row! Still no goal. Will he cross again or pass back?"
Ambrosini didn't hesitate — he lobbed it into the box again.
He wanted to go for the kill!
Suker was already in the center of the box.
The ball was meant for Kaka.
Inter defenders shifted focus to him and anticipated his move.
Suker had his back to the goal, with the ball coming at him.
Normally, he would've let it go.
But now — Suker's eyes gleamed.
He watched the ball curve in, then suddenly leapt backward, his body arched like a scissor-kick machine, left foot swinging high to strike the ball.
"OOOOH~~ SUKER!! BICYCLE KICK!"
Suker stretched mid-air, like a great eagle in flight.
The ball slammed into his foot and flew toward the top-right corner of the net.
César dove again — but the angle was too perfect.
He could only watch as the ball ripped into the net.
BOOM!
Suker landed, turned, and stared at the goal.
He saw the ball bouncing inside.
A wave of heat surged through him.
"ROAAAARRRRRRRR!!!!!!!"
Suker jumped up and roared.
He ran toward the stands, ripped off his shirt, and showed his chiseled muscles.
"COME ON! WORSHIP ME! I'M THE REAL GOD!"