"Goal!! Suker!!! This is Suker!!! The unstoppable super striker!"

"In just two minutes after the start, he helped Real Madrid equalize. Villarreal's efforts in the first half were in vain. Real Madrid's counterattack has begun!!"

Whoooooooooooooooooosh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The entire stadium of Real Madrid fans erupted.

They responded to Suker's brilliant goal with the most passionate cheers.

After scoring, Suker ran to the corner flag area, raising his arms in celebration.

Adebayor was in a daze. Was scoring really this easy?

Why did it feel like Suker's way of playing was completely different from his?

He had struggled for so long just to hit the post.

But Suker scored within two minutes of coming on.

"Keep going! Let's keep pushing!" Suker shouted excitedly. "Press them high! I'm in great form!"

Hearing Suker's words, the Real Madrid players were also fired up.

When their star player was this confident, it naturally got them excited too.

After Real Madrid's goal, the Villarreal players prepared to kick off at midfield.

Their eyes carried a hint of ferocity—this wasn't the look of a team planning to defend.

Clearly, they weren't ready to give up on the match either.

"Perfect!"

Suker bared his teeth in a fierce grin.

If it was now, he might really be able to pull it off!

Bring it on!

The goal feast is about to begin!

Peep!

The whistle blew, and the match resumed!

"Villarreal kicks off. How will they respond after conceding? Will they attack or defend to stabilize the situation?"

Villarreal began passing the ball backward.

At the same time, the Real Madrid players surged forward aggressively.

They pressed high up the pitch as a unit.

High pressing!

"Real Madrid's high press! They're turning up the heat now!"

Gonzales roared.

This was the Real Madrid way.

Anyone who dared to provoke them would be crushed.

Suker led the charge, sprinting forward at full speed, with Adebayor and Kaká following closely to apply pressure.

Suker was lightning-fast.

After reading the play, he darted past Villarreal's midfielder Cazorla and charged straight toward the defense.

Cazorla's backpass and Suker's run happened in less than a second.

"Oh no!"

Cazorla's heart sank.

Suker had anticipated the play.

Cazorla immediately shouted a warning: "Gonzalo! Pass it out!"

Rodríguez had just received the ball. When he looked up, Suker was already right in front of him.

Rodríguez was startled.

He hadn't expected Suker to close him down so quickly and aggressively.

If he passed now, Suker might intercept it, so Rodríguez tried to drag the ball to the side to evade him.

"Got you!"

Suker stretched out his foot.

He poked the ball away and forcefully shoved Rodríguez aside.

"My God!! Suker wins it!! Suker breaks into the box! Villarreal are in trouble!!"

Suker chased down the ball and, without hesitation, lashed out with his left foot.

The ball slipped through the goalkeeper's legs and into the net.

"Goal!!! Another one!!!"

"Good heavens!! Two goals in a minute! A quickfire brace from Suker!!"

"Villarreal's defense has been completely torn apart by Suker. Less than three minutes into the second half, Suker has a double!"

"Two goals! Suker has turned the game around for Real Madrid!"

Gonzales' voice echoed through the stadium's speakers, and the Real Madrid fans were in raptures.

They were overjoyed.

They knew that with Suker on the pitch, they could always turn things around.

But no one expected him to score twice in less than three minutes.

At this moment, the Real Madrid fans were in heaven.

This was simply incredible!

On the sidelines, assistant coach Faria was also screaming in excitement.

"Oh my God! Suker! His performance is flawless! This is just unbelievable!"

Faria raised his arms, cheering wildly.

Mourinho, too, wore a broad smile.

This was exactly the kind of performance he expected from Suker—this was the superstar striker he had envisioned.

Under Mourinho's gaze, the match resumed.

Villarreal kicked off, but they were clearly shell-shocked by Real Madrid's two quick goals.

Their passing was sloppy, and Kaká intercepted the ball on the wing.

Kaká immediately looked up and spotted Suker in the box. He swung his right foot and delivered a cross.

The ball flew into the penalty area.

Instantly, Villarreal's defense was in disarray.

Their two center-backs, Rodríguez and Ángel López, failed to communicate properly and collided with each other.

The ball ricocheted off their shoulders and bounced to the left.

There, Suker came charging in like a bolt of lightning.

"Damn it!"

Villarreal's goalkeeper was terrified.

Again?

The ball was about to land, and Català was right behind Suker. If Suker tried to control it, Català could close him down.

"Watch the second ball!"

Second ball?

Suker grinned savagely.

Screw the second ball!

Suker jumped slightly, turning his body to meet the dropping ball. In this position, it was nearly impossible to generate power for a shot, but Suker's momentum from the sprint was immense.

The ball slammed into his instep.

Suker skidded across the turf on one knee, his body low to the ground, as he hammered the ball into the bottom right corner of the net.

"Here it is again!! Insane! This is madness!!"

"Goal! Goal! And another goal!!"

"Suker!! A hat-trick in three minutes!!"

"Villarreal's net has been breached three times in three minutes!"

"I can hardly believe what I'm seeing. This isn't a match anymore—it's a one-sided massacre!"

"Suker! What a monstrous striker!"

"Who can stop him? Who on earth can stop him?!"

"Real Madrid 3-1 Villarreal!"

Booooooooooooooooom!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Bernabéu was on the verge of exploding.

Fans were jumping up and down in ecstasy. A hat-trick in three minutes.

A goal per minute?

This was beyond anything they could have imagined.

They knew Suker was incredible.

But this was just ridiculous!

As for Villarreal, they were completely shattered.

Conceding three goals in three minutes would leave anyone stunned.

The entire Villarreal bench was silent.

Manager Garrido stood with his mouth slightly agape, his expression frozen in disbelief. This was beyond comprehension.

The substitutes were equally dumbfounded.

On the Real Madrid bench, Faria's jaw dropped, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

At this point, no words could describe Suker's performance.

Mourinho, on the other hand, remained relatively calm, but his right hand trembled slightly, and his cheek twitched uncontrollably.

He knew Suker would score.

He knew Suker could turn the game around.

But three goals in three minutes? That was just absurd.

Even Mourinho was stunned by Suker's display.

On the bench, Benzema stared at the pitch in shock.

He looked at the scoreboard: 3-1.

He pinched himself.

"Not a dream," Benzema muttered. "He's a freaking monster!"

He couldn't help but reflect on how he had once thought he could compete with such a beast.

What was he thinking?

Higuaín was also staring blankly at the field, his expression dazed.

This was beyond his understanding.

Meanwhile, on the pitch, Suker retreated to midfield and shouted to his teammates: "Keep going!"

"Still more?" Kaká asked in surprise.

They had already scored three goals.

Suker turned his head. "Not enough. I feel like I can score more."

"Be human, will you?" Srna groaned.

Suker: "Two more!"

The others could only shake their heads helplessly.

But at this point, Suker's form was simply too hot.

If he said he could score more, they believed him.

53rd minute. The entire Bernabéu was rocking with deafening cheers.

Tens of thousands of fans raised their arms in unison, creating a forest of limbs.

The noise was so intense it felt like the air itself was vibrating.

Countless Real Madrid fans leaped and cheered as if causing an earthquake.

The Bernabéu had gone mad.

And there was only one reason for their frenzy.

The scoreboard displayed a massive result:

(RM) 5-1 (VCF)

RM stood for Real Madrid, while VCF was Villarreal's abbreviation.

53 minutes in. Real Madrid 5-1 Villarreal.

Cameras and flashes lit up the corner flag area.

Reporters were frantically snapping photos of Suker.

"5 goals in 9 minutes"

Suker raised his arms triumphantly.

Five goals in nine minutes.

No—to be precise, he had scored five goals in under nine minutes.

At this moment, even his teammates looked at him differently.

A monster.

An absolute monster.

Casillas even sprinted all the way from his own goal to jump onto Suker's back.

It was rare to see him this excited, but this match—or rather, these eight minutes—had nearly blown his mind.

Faria watched the pitch, his emotions now eerily calm.

At first, he had been happy, then ecstatic.

A hat-trick in three minutes sent him into euphoria.

A four-goal haul in six minutes left him stunned.

And now, five goals in 8 minutes and 25 seconds had left him numb.

If he didn't suppress his emotions, he felt his heart might explode.

"Football is a sport of constantly breaking limits and making history. Every era has its shining stars who define it. I don't know if this is Suker's era, but he is undoubtedly a pivotal figure. In fact, he doesn't just belong to this era—he transcends time, challenging the legends of the past."

Faria sighed. "José, I don't know how to explain this. Maybe I just lack the experience, but he's truly..."

He turned to look and was stunned to see Mourinho kneeling on the ground.

The Portuguese coach still had his hands in his pockets, but he was on his knees.

His pupils trembled violently.

His body shook slightly.

He inhaled sharply in small gasps, hissing through his teeth. Clearly, even Mourinho was at a loss for words.

Faria stared for a long moment before sighing:

"Perhaps this is what a historic performance looks like..."

Commentator Gonzales took deep breaths to steady himself:

"This is just insane. Suker has broken three records in a single match!"

"Fastest hat-trick in La Liga, fastest four-goal haul, fastest five-goal haul!"

"8 minutes and 25 seconds, folks. Remember this time. Suker needed only 8 minutes and 25 seconds to kill a match—or maybe even less!"

"Even now, I can't believe it. Suker's performances have always been outstanding, but he keeps redefining our expectations. Five goals in nine minutes—this will go down as a La Liga record. I don't even know if anyone will ever break it, but I can guarantee it won't happen anytime soon!"

"When we thought this Croatian star couldn't get any better, he keeps proving us wrong. Even now, he's still doing it."

"Alright, for this match, at this moment, he is the greatest of all time!"

The Real Madrid players retreated to their half.

The Villarreal players were in a daze.

Conceding five goals in nine minutes—all scored by the same player—was soul-crushing.

Their morale and confidence had been utterly obliterated.

Some of them even looked at the white jerseys with outright fear.

That's right.

Suker had become their nightmare.

Who could possibly stop this guy?

No one.

Cazorla gasped for air, his mind in complete disarray. His earlier excellent form had been replaced by despair.

Score?

Stage a comeback?

Please.

Just end the match already.

Cazorla closed his eyes in agony.

He didn't want to play anymore. This feeling was unbearable.

The helplessness was exhausting.

Worst of all, there were still over 30 minutes left. Every second from now on would be torture.

Villarreal's morale had hit rock bottom.

Many of their players were mentally broken.

"Let's ease off," Suker said, turning to his teammates.

No need to push them further. Who knew what they might do if provoked?

For the remaining 30 minutes, both teams tacitly slowed the pace.

Under normal circumstances, commentators would need to fill the time with anecdotes to keep things fresh.

But this match was too extraordinary.

Gonzales kept bringing up Suker's five goals in nine minutes.

He marveled, sighed, and even gestured excitedly.

There was no doubt—this performance had completely won over the usually critical Gonzales.

Finally, the match ended.

Real Madrid 5-1 Villarreal. A victory in the 17th round of La Liga.

But that wasn't the story.

Suker's five goals in nine minutes had set Spain ablaze, and the news was spreading across Europe and the world.

That very night, media outlets and news agencies were all over the story.

Germany's Kicker: "Croatian star delivers monstrous performance—five goals in nine minutes!"

Italy's Gazzetta dello Sport: "Madness from Suker! Villarreal's eternal nightmare!"

Croatia's Zagreb Evening News: "Suker! Five goals in nine minutes! A performance for the ages!"

Spain's Marca: "Real Madrid's top star—a display beyond human limits!"

England's The Sun: "Suker's terrifying form leaves Mourinho kneeling in awe!"

The news spread like wildfire, quickly becoming a global sensation.

Five goals in nine minutes.

This surpassed everyone's wildest expectations.

Scoring in football is incredibly difficult.

For many players, reaching double digits in a 38-game season is an outstanding achievement.

For stars like Messi and Ronaldo, averaging a goal per game is the pinnacle.

But Suker's five goals in nine minutes? That was otherworldly.

Even El Mundo Deportivo, a publication typically hostile to Real Madrid, gave a rare positive headline:

"This generation's alien—his name is Suker!"

Ronaldo was called "The Alien" because his performances seemed beyond human capabilities.

There had only ever been one Alien.

But Suker's performance in this match was equally extraterrestrial.

The football world was in awe.

This game had instilled fear in future opponents.

"I still can't believe it."

In Suker's villa, Zorancic watched the match replay on TV.

Spain's sports channels were looping the game nonstop.

Meanwhile, clips of Suker's "Emperor of Nine-Five" had exploded on YouTube.

After Real Madrid's official upload, the video's views, likes, and comments skyrocketed, making it the platform's hottest content.

The match even drew reactions from retired legends.

Ronaldo, Van Basten, Pelé—all gave their thoughts.

Pelé, in particular, was known for saying, "The best striker, midfielder, and defender in the world is me."

But this time, he joked: "If it's Suker, I'd gladly let him be my strike partner!"

Clearly, Suker's brilliance had won over the usually arrogant Brazilian legend.

Van Basten also praised Suker highly, even predicting this year's Ballon d'Or would undoubtedly go to him.

Ronaldo gave perhaps the most glowing review:

"He has all the weapons I had at my peak—but he's even more complete."

Ronaldo was the epitome of a flawless striker.

His only weakness was his body's inability to withstand the demands of his playstyle, leading to chronic injuries.

The Alien was never truly beaten by anyone—only by his own body.

But looking at Suker, many couldn't help but wonder:

Were they witnessing the rise of an injury-resistant, physically superior "Alien"?