"Kaká has the ball again, turns, and shoots! Ohhh~~~ César makes a stunning save, tipping it over the bar! After that earlier goal, Kaká is on fire with his offensive drive!"
"Inter Milan may have shut down Suker, but they never expected Kaká to explode like this!"
In midfield, Kaká was once again in possession.
Stanković rushed forward to close him down—But just then, Suker pulled back into an open space.
"Damn it!"
Stanković cursed inwardly. He had no choice but to block the passing lane—Which gave Kaká a chance to break through.
With a quick shift and explosive acceleration, Kaká skipped past with ease.
He angled his run diagonally, scanning the middle—
Ronaldo was starting to move.
Kaká blinked and looked at the positioning of Inter's backline.
Then he had a bold idea.
He used the inside of his foot to chip the ball, bending it ever so slightly—The ball curved around Burdisso and dropped right in front of Ronaldo.
"My God!! A rainbow pass! That's Suker's signature move!"
Kaká had just pulled off Suker's trademark pass—and the stadium went wild.
Even Suker was dumbfounded.
Since when did he learn that!?
It was a gorgeous ball, but unfortunately Ronaldo couldn't catch up to it.
They'd never practiced this kind of combo before.
Córdoba read the bounce and cleared it.
No goal, but Kaká's pass still left the crowd in awe.
Even Inter Milan fans were starting to feel anxious.
They'd shut down Suker…But now it felt like there was a second "Suker" on the pitch!?
"When did you learn that?" Suker ran over, grilling him.
"Once you understand the mechanics, it's pretty easy!" Kaká smiled.
"I'll start feeding you those from now on."
Even though he was the intended beneficiary, Suker felt a little salty.
He'd trained for weeks to master that move—Even did special sessions with Boa Morte.
Kaká? Just learned it casually.
This guy's talent is criminal.
Milan's offense now revolved around Kaká, painting scenes with every attack.
On Inter's side, Zlatan Ibrahimović wasn't content to just be a side character.
He'd been overshadowed by Suker all season.
Now with Suker suppressed, this was supposed to be his moment.
Only for Kaká to steal the spotlight again—and way too brilliantly.
If he had this in him, why didn't he show it earlier?!Zlatan was bitter.
But still, he gathered himself.
Even if it killed him, he was going to win back attention.
He needed to tie the score.
"Cross it!"
After shaking off Gattuso, Crespo sent a high ball into the box.
Zlatan jumped early—won the aerial duel—
Clang!
The ball smashed off the crossbar and bounced out.
"Damn it!"
Ibrahimović cursed.
He rushed forward to recover, but Gattuso had already passed it to Kaká.
Kaká turned—
With a dazzling move, he spun past Materazzi like he was just a training cone.
With a sudden burst, he left the defender in the dust.
Materazzi tried to recover—Kaká shifted sideways and cut him off completely.
Suddenly, he was storming toward Inter's penalty area.
Seeing Kaká charge forward, Suker wasn't going to be left behind.
He sprinted in from the flank, aiming to pull defenders and create chaos.
Then—He saw Kaká wind up for a long shot.
The ball screamed past Burdisso, a rocket headed for the top corner—
Bang!
"GOAL!!" shouted commentator Aldo Serena, standing up at his desk.
"A world-class strike!"
"Kaká! No one expected him to shoot from there! But what a shot—a thunderbolt straight into the top right corner!"
"He comes from the land of Samba—but it's not just footwork. He's got a cannon for a leg too!"
"That's Kaká for you. He spent the season playing support for Suker. But when Suker's locked down—Kaká rises!"
With a handsome face and refined demeanor, Kaká didn't look like your typical football bruiser.
But that contrast made him even more admired.
"Like jade on the road, a prince beyond compare."
Kaká looked skyward and pointed both hands to heaven—His signature celebration marking the rise of the "Godslayer Kaká."
He'd waited a whole season. And now—he was cashing in his moment.
Suker, watching the ball hit the net, grinned wide.
Kaká's emergence had shattered Inter Milan's entire tactical plan.
Coach Mancini scratched his head in frustration, about to explode.
Suker had carried Milan all season.
Everyone thought shutting him down would be enough.
But now? Milan pulls out a hidden trump card named Kaká?
What the hell is this!
Inter had devoted every resource to stopping Suker—No matter the cost.
But with Kaká exploding like this, they didn't even need Suker anymore.
Mancini's entire game plan was shredded.
Halftime passed.
The Inter fans had gone quiet.
Since Kaká's eruption, the atmosphere had completely changed.
Now came the big question:
Do they keep marking Suker? Or switch to mark Kaká? Or try a zone defense?
God only knows.If they do that… what if both of them go off?
Fortunately, Ibrahimović showed his worth.
In the 67th minute, from a corner kick, he headed in a goal.
A much-needed breath of air for Inter.
But to win the title, they needed at least a draw.
One more goal.
Hope flickered.
But reality was brutal.
81st minute —After a back-and-forth barrage from both sides, Milan won a ball in the air.
"Counterattack!!"
Pirlo yelled, launching a long pass over the halfway line.
"Mark Kaká!"
Stanković screamed.
They no longer cared about Suker.
If Kaká was allowed space, Inter's defense was doomed.
Their backline tilted toward Kaká.
Kaká sprinted forward and settled the ball with finesse.
As he did, Materazzi lunged in—But Kaká had touched it toward the byline on purpose.
One move, two functions:Trap and beat.
He accelerated again, pulling ahead.
Then he looked up—
Suker was sprinting full-speed through the middle.
Kaká twisted his body, used his last ounce of energy, and whipped in a cross.
Suker, now airborne like an eagle, soared high.
Body leaned back, core engaged—
Boom!
A picture-perfect header.
The ball bounced once off the grass and rocketed into the net.
"GOAL!! Suker, after 80 minutes of silence, finally finds the back of the net!"
"Kaká assists Suker—the Milan Twins link up to kill the match!"
"AC Milan leads 3-1 over Inter Milan!"
Amid thunderous cheers from the Milan faithful, Kaká collapsed to the turf, beaming as the ball kissed the net.
Suker ran toward him.
Kaká looked up and smiled back.
This goal—was proof.
Suker always finished.T hat's why Kaká had willingly played support.
Kaká was proud—he had the arrogance of a genius.
But only when it came to Suker…Did he genuinely choose to assist, to make space, to defer.
Not because they were friends.
But because Suker earned it, with goal after goal.
"Godslayer Kaká" had always been there.
He just held back to preserve the tactical focus.
Because he knew—Suker could handle it.
But the moment Suker couldn't score—That's when Kaká would ignite.
Suker stood in front of Kaká, hand outstretched.
"Seafood paella tonight!"
"With special sauce."
"...Got it!"