The match ended with Real Madrid defeating AC Milan 3–0.Although the match wasn't particularly important, the Milan players still felt helpless.

In this game, they had few attacking opportunities, let alone the chance to beat Real Madrid.

With this win, Real Madrid completed the group stage with a perfect record and smoothly advanced to the Champions League knockout stage.

"Real Madrid! A perfect record in the group stage! Their performance this season has been outstanding. We're witnessing a brand-new 'Galácticos' setting sail. They'll crush any obstacle in their path and march straight toward the throne of champions!"

"I have to say, I'm already looking forward to the knockout rounds in the second half of the season. The group stage competition isn't fierce enough, but once in the knockouts, against other top European teams who've survived multiple rounds of selection—how will Real Madrid perform then?"

"Bayern Munich! Manchester United! Inter Milan! Chelsea! Arsenal! All these top clubs from different leagues—how will they face this formidable Real Madrid?"

"Folks, let's look forward to the Champions League round of 16 in February! And let's also congratulate Real Madrid and AC Milan on successfully reaching the last 16!"

After the match, Suker gave a brief interview, quickly changed clothes, and left the Bernabéu with Kaká in a car.

They didn't return to the training base—they had already asked Mourinho for leave, so they didn't have to attend the post-match meeting.

On the drive home, Kaká kept ordering takeaway.

It was already late, so Suker had no intention of cooking himself.

When they arrived home, they worked together to move a large table into the small football pitch in Suker's yard.

Although the yard still had some space, it was too cramped, so they could only eat on the pitch.

About half an hour later, Maldini arrived at Suker's villa with Gattuso and others.

Suker laughed as he went to greet them: "You didn't have to bring gifts just to come!"

Gattuso: "Who said we brought you gifts?"

Suker: "Exit's to the right—you can catch a cab there!"

Whack!

Maldini tapped Suker's head with a bottle of red wine.

Suker took the wine with a grin, then looked at Gattuso in mock disdain: "See? That's the difference."

They were all old friends and teammates, so there was no awkwardness. Suker led them into the small pitch.

"This is the first time I've eaten on a football pitch," someone remarked.

Gattuso claimed the seat to Suker's left, while Pirlo sat to his right.

Pirlo squeezed some tomato sauce onto a slice of bread and smack—stuck it onto Gattuso's mouth.

"We're feeding you, and you still talk so much nonsense!"

"Pirlo!!"

Gattuso roared.

Pirlo instantly jumped up and ran.

As Gattuso got up to chase, someone tripped him, and he fell flat on his face.

Suker leapt up: "Pirlo, run!"

On the pitch, Gattuso chased them furiously, even throwing his shoes at them, but they dodged easily, which only made him angrier.

The others sat in their chairs, laughing so hard they almost fell over.

Kaká laughed until tears streamed down his face.

"This feels great!"

Seedorf chuckled: "It's just like a few years ago."

The moment he said that, everyone fell silent.

The laughter abruptly stopped.

Realizing his slip, Seedorf opened his mouth to speak—only to have a slice of bread slapped onto it.

Seedorf shot to his feet.

"Suker! You stand right there!"

The others burst out laughing again.

After a while, the four troublemakers finally settled down.

Suker and Pirlo, still holding their stomachs, returned to the table—they'd each taken a punch in the gut from Gattuso.

"Stop messing around and eat! Why are you bullying Ivan?"

Kaká said in exasperation.

Suker and Pirlo immediately turned their heads: "Shut up, you green tea pretty boy! You're next!"

Kaká quickly turned away.

He knew better than to provoke these two Milan troublemakers.

Seeing the others hadn't started eating, Suker opened the wine and poured for everyone, then raised his glass:

"First, this toast is for our boss here—who ran off to America for two years, disappeared completely, and ignored everything!"

"Isn't that introduction a bit long?"

Maldini shook his head helplessly.

"I like it that way!" Suker huffed. "Everyone—long time no see!"

They all raised their glasses.

"Long time no see!"

After sipping his wine, Suker turned to Maldini:

"Boss, this time you've come back—"

Maldini shook his head, signaling him to talk later.

"Alright," Suker nodded, then asked, "What's going on with Pato?"

At his words, everyone's expression turned slightly awkward.

Kaká asked: "Is he injured? I didn't see him on the squad list."

Everyone glanced at each other. Finally, Gattuso sighed:

"Pato's had some disagreements with the management and Allegri."

"Disagreements?" Suker was surprised. "About what?"

Gattuso: "You know Pato's been wanting to leave, right?"

Suker and Kaká exchanged a look.

Pato had been wanting to follow in their footsteps and join Real Madrid—he'd called them many times.

But they had played dumb.

They didn't think moving to Real Madrid was a good idea for Pato—the competition was too fierce. Suker owned one wing position outright, while on the other wing, Kaká, Di María, and Morata were competing, with Benzema occasionally playing there as part of the tactics—not to mention Higuaín.

And in the future, even more competition would arrive.

Suker wasn't sure Pato could thrive there.

Plus, knowing Pato's personality, Suker didn't want to invite that kind of trouble.

But Pato insisted, which gave them both a headache.

"So it's because he wants a transfer?" Suker asked.

Gattuso nodded with a sigh:

"Yeah. He kept asking the club for a raise—once, twice—until he finally angered Berlusconi."

"You know Berlusconi's never really liked Pato."

Suker smirked.

Not "never really liked"—more like outright disliked.

After all, who would like the guy who stole his daughter?

Still, Pato had value, which was the only reason they kept him.

In Suker's opinion, Pato could leave—as long as they got a good price.

The real problem was finding a buyer willing to pay.

So far, no suitable offer had come in.

That's what triggered the conflict.

"Leaving him out of the squad this time is probably to put pressure on him, make him understand a few things. Beyond that, I don't know."

Suker nodded at Gattuso's explanation.

Then Gattuso suddenly said:

"Andrea, I heard you haven't renewed your contract."

Pirlo nodded calmly:

"The terms aren't good enough."

"You want to leave too?" Gattuso frowned.

At that moment, Maldini tapped his glass lightly:

"Let's not talk about this tonight."

Gattuso pursed his lips:

"Alright. Let's talk about something else—Kaká, I heard your dressing room's been having issues?"

"Which ear heard that?" Suker immediately retorted. "We're doing great."

"With a troublemaker like you? How could it be great?" Gattuso rolled his eyes.

Back when Maldini stepped down as captain, Suker had clashed with Ambrosini.

But since Suker was already set on leaving and was injured, things didn't escalate.

Otherwise, with his temper and Ambrosini's management style, it would've been an all-out war.

"How am I a troublemaker?"

"You're not? You're annoying as hell!"

"Me? Annoying you? When?"

"Back then you annoyed me every day!"

"And you enjoyed it!"

"Bullshit! You drove me crazy!"

"Shhh… Ivan's shy~ Too embarrassed to admit it~"

"You little—"

Maldini chuckled watching them bicker and shook his head.

But Gattuso wasn't wrong.

After retiring, Maldini realized something—Suker's departure might not have been a bad thing.

Suker was the kind of player who constantly needed to move forward—he wouldn't stay in a declining team.

He needed constant progress, always chasing new goals.

Force him to settle, and he'd go mad—he'd stir things up until neither he nor the club could take it anymore.

Maldini didn't want to see that. Suker leaving was good for both him and Milan.

The current Milan lacked depth, intensity, and money.

But Suker was after Champions League glory and personal honors—his ability and conditions were there. If Milan tried to hold onto him, it would only end in disaster.

The meal continued, and soon they broke into smaller conversations.

Suker and Maldini moved to a corner.

"So this time Milan's using you again?" Suker asked.

Maldini's return clearly had its reasons.

Right now, Milan's biggest problem was a lack of influence. Calling Maldini back was probably an attempt to use his legendary status to recruit in Serie A or elsewhere.

"Don't put it so harshly. Besides, I agreed," Maldini smiled.

"Boss, since leaving the pitch, you've compromised too much. If it were me, I'd call Galliani and tell him to get lost."

Maldini shrugged:

"It's a process. I'll be in Milan's management one day—this is an early investment."

Suker sighed.

When exactly would Maldini get into management? And what would the result be then?

"Forget it, you wouldn't listen anyway," Suker shook his head and took a sip of wine.

In some ways, they were alike—both stubborn as mules.

Maldini then smiled:

"Buffon said he voted for you in the Ballon d'Or, and several other national team captains told me they did too. I guess I should congratulate you in advance."

"Including this one, how many will that be?"

Suker held up three fingers:

"The third."

"You've already surpassed Zidane and Ronaldo."

"Different era, different meaning," Suker shook his head. "Still a long way to go."

Three Ballons d'Or were nothing—in the original timeline, those two guys had more. This was just the beginning.

"I'm curious—what exactly are you trying to fight for?" Maldini asked. "Your achievements are already incredible, but you seem restless. Why?"

Suker shrugged:

"When you look at history, this isn't much. I'm not satisfied. I want more honors. I still have gaps—I don't have a World Cup."

"I never won the Euros or the World Cup either," Maldini said.

When Italy won the 2006 World Cup, Maldini had already retired from the national team. Cannavaro lifted the trophy instead. It was one of Maldini's regrets.

"But you have six Champions Leagues, seven league titles—27 trophies in total," Suker pointed out. "I have only three Champions Leagues. I'm 24. If I can stay at my peak until 32, that's eight years—eight Champions Leagues, at least four wins, plus two World Cups and two European Championships."

Counting on his fingers, Suker sighed:

"See? Not much time."

Maldini almost rolled his eyes into the back of his head.

Sure, why not win everything while you're at it?

"The World Cup and Euros are different," Maldini shook his head. "You played in 2010—you should know—"

"I don't care! I want it!" Suker said firmly. "In 2014 Brazil, whoever blocks me—I'll crush them. I'm not tasting failure again!"

The problem was, Suker could keep his form—he had his "system."

But what about others?

Even with his strength, one man couldn't carry an entire team forever.

In the original timeline, Modrić maintained his form, but Srna, Rakitić, Mandžukić, Vukojević—except Rakitić—were all older than Suker.

Their peak would end sooner.

So the 2014 World Cup had to be won.

No one could predict what might happen in 2018. Facing the rising "French sword," could Croatia's aging defense hold out?

By 2018, Suker would be 32, and his physical ability would decline sharply.

Even with his ability to "boost stats," maintaining peak form was a constant process—and where would he find enough stat cards to last that long?

That's why he was training like crazy now—both to maintain his form and to reduce certain "agility" stats so he could save cards.

If he could save them for eight years, then unleash them in the Champions League, Euros, and World Cup, he might collect around a hundred cards.

But would that be enough to last to 2018 or even 2022?

If his form dropped, it would start a chain reaction. In the worst case, he might lose the chance to get more cards at all.

So his concerns weren't just about rivals—it was also about his own decline.

Against the inevitable drop in physical ability, Suker had to prepare.

After all, both Ronaldo and Messi had exceptionally long peaks.

Right now, Suker was on top—he didn't want those two to make a comeback.

At first, he was the chaser. Now, he wanted to define the era with his own name—not as part of some "duo."

Suker and Maldini couldn't see eye-to-eye on this.

Maldini thought he was too aggressive—sometimes, taking it slow wasn't bad.

Suker thought Maldini had lost his competitive fire since leaving the pitch.

Still, they understood each other and didn't push the topic.

They both knew their relationship wasn't what it used to be—people change with their environment.

Maldini had retired, become calmer.

Suker was still pushing forward in Madrid, chasing more.

It wasn't about right or wrong—just a difference in philosophy.

The night ended happily, but no one drank too much—they still had league matches to play.

Around 11 p.m., they went their separate ways.

And perhaps, they would never meet again on the pitch.

Time flew by.

On December 19, the last La Liga match before the winter break—after 15 rounds, Real Madrid had 15 straight wins. Including the Champions League, they were undefeated this season.

One more win, and they would enter the winter break with a perfect league record.

The final pre-break match—La Liga round 16—was Real Madrid at home against Zaragoza.

Zaragoza, promoted last season, had been a lower-mid-table team with decent performances.

But against Real Madrid, they struggled.

They might hope for a draw, but Madrid wouldn't give up even a single point at home.

With a perfect season so far, why not keep it going?

So, Madrid fielded their full starting lineup.

Before the break, before Christmas, they wanted this win.

They wanted to enter the second half of the season undefeated.

They wanted to send a message to all of Europe—

The return of the unstoppable Galácticos.

A white dynasty.

A team of absolute dominance.

A squad ready to challenge the greatest lineups in history.

The Galácticos' cannons were aimed at Europe—the scorched-earth bombardment was about to begin!