But what excited Suk the most was that he had finally drawn a player he recognized, not someone completely unknown like Boka.
This meant that as he moved up to higher-level competitions, the quality of the cards he drew would also improve, eventually reaching the level of stars from the Five Major Leagues or even world-famous players.
Most importantly, he would have the chance to collect future Inzaghi, Ronaldinho, and even Messi and Ronaldo skill sets.
Suk could even mix and match their skills.
He could have Ronaldo’s heading, Messi’s and Ronaldinho’s footwork, and skills for both passing and defending, becoming the most versatile center forward in the world.
He could break through defenses, pass, dribble, and shoot. When necessary, he could even be a battering ram to storm the opponent’s goal, a perfect fit for any tactical system.
A traditional center forward? No problem.
A target man? He could do that too.
If there were plenty of opportunities, he could switch into pure striker mode and go on a scoring spree.
If chances were scarce, he could use his dribbling to break through the defensive line and create them. If all else failed, he could even drop back to help orchestrate the attack and open up channels for his teammates.
Suk was already lost in a daydream, picturing himself playing for a top-tier club in the Five Major Leagues, cheered on by tens of thousands of fans.
Shaking his head, Suk turned his attention back to the other Red Card.
[Red Card—Status Recovery Card (Skill Card)—Eliminates all negative statuses. Single-use consumable.]
The brief description carried explosive implications.
A Divine Card!!
’Is this seriously a Red Card?’
With this card, he could eliminate any injury or physical ailment. The injuries that professional players dreaded most would no longer be a threat, paving the way for a long and prosperous soccer career.
This was, without a doubt, the best card Suk had drawn so far.
In a brutal league like the one in Bosnia and Herzegovina, this card was like a second lease on his professional life.
Both Red Cards were incredibly useful. Suk felt unbelievably lucky.
...
Hehehehe...
Suk couldn’t stop grinning like an idiot on his way back to the field.
He had gained so much from this match, and he was ecstatic.
"Where did you go?"
Mulinar asked as he walked over.
Suk quickly wiped the grin off his face and made up an excuse. "My stomach hurt."
Mulinar shook his head. "They really should build a restroom at this field."
This place was originally just a pasture, wide open all around. The nearest restroom was about a kilometer away, which was completely out of the question during a match.
Most of the time, they just had to find a random spot to squat.
"What are they doing?"
Suk jutted his chin toward the front.
Oripé and the others were gathered around a truck, holding something and pointing at it as they talked.
Mulinar smiled. "They’re looking at the newspaper."
"The newspaper?"
Mostar had its own town newspaper, but in a place this small, there was never any real news. Sales were dismal, and you’d rarely see a group of people huddled around a paper discussing something.
Noticing Suk’s confusion, Mulinar said, "A genius has come to town! A real genius!"
Curious, Suk walked over and squeezed through the crowd to get a look at the paper.
A large headline was splashed across the front page.
"Croatian Genius Joins Mostar Zrinjski!"
Below it was a photograph.
It was a young man with short blond hair. His cheeks were thin and his skin was fair, giving him a somewhat delicate appearance.
His eyes, in particular, were full of spirit.
Though the young man looked inexperienced, his features were still somehow familiar.
While the others were pointing and chattering about the newspaper, Suk’s eyes widened as he stared intently at the photo.
’No mistake!’
’Absolutely no mistake!’
He didn’t have the flowing long hair he would in the future, and his expression was still boyish, but Suk knew he wasn’t mistaken.
This was the future Midfield Master, Luka Modric!