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Live on PPV from The Cotton Bowl Stadium, Dallas/USA
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CARD
Triple Threat Matchup
Rex Steiner Vs WALTER Vs Jon Moxley
The arena lights dim to a deep crimson as the atmosphere thickens with the scent of impending violence. This isn't just a match; it’s a collision of three distinct eras of brutality. In one corner stands Rex Steiner, the genetic powerhouse carrying the Steiner legacy; in the other, WALTER (Gunther), the "Ring General" whose chops sound like gunshots; and finally, Jon Moxley, the wild card who bleeds for the sake of the craft.
The bell rings, and the sound of silence is immediately broken by WALTER. He doesn't go for a move; he delivers a thunderous open-hand chop to Steiner’s chest. The sound echoes like a whip crack. Moxley, grinning like a madman, goads WALTER into hitting him too. WALTER obliges.
The match quickly spills outside. Steiner showcases his freakish athleticism, catching Moxley mid-suicide dive and overhead belly-to-belly suplexing him onto the thin floor padding. WALTER meets Steiner on the outside, and the two giants trade forearms until Moxley emerges from under the ring with a trash can lid, smashing it across both men's skulls.
Moxley isn't interested in a wrestling clinic; he wants a crime scene. He drags a ladder from the entrance ramp and bridges it between the ring apron and the announce table.
Inside the ring, Steiner finds his second wind. He catches WALTER in a spinning sit-out powerbomb, but the pin is broken when Moxley tosses a steel chair directly into Steiner’s face. Moxley begins to set up a "home gym" of horror:
Two chairs are set up back-to-back, A pane of glass (brought out by "fans" in the front row) is leaned against the turnbuckle.
Steel steps are dismantled and brought into the squared circle.
WALTER, recovered and disgusted by the toys, boots Moxley in the face. He grabs the steel steps—a massive piece of industrial metal—and slams them into Moxley's ribs. The Ring General then turns his attention to Steiner, placing him on the top rope. He attempts a superplex, but Moxley recovers, slipping under WALTER for a Tower of Doom powerbomb. The ring shakes, and the crowd is on its feet.
Honoring a Legend: Enter "Barbie"
Moxley rolls out of the ring, his forehead already a crimson mask. He searches frantically under the ring apron, tossing aside mallets and kendo sticks until he finds it: "Barbie." The baseball bat wrapped in jagged barbed wire, a tribute to the "Hardcore Legend" Mick Foley.
Steiner is just getting to his knees when Moxley slides back in. The "Genetic Freak" looks at the wire with wide eyes. Moxley doesn't hesitate. He swings, catching Steiner across the midsection, the wire snagging on Rex’s singlet and tearing into his skin. Moxley drags the wire across Steiner's forehead, honoring Foley with every bloody inch.
Steiner screams, but the adrenaline of his lineage kicks in. He ducks a second swing, lifts Moxley high, and executes a Gorilla Press Slam—dropping Moxley directly onto the bridge of the ladder outside the ring. The ladder buckles, snapping in half as Moxley’s body crumples.
With Moxley effectively neutralized and gasping for air among the wreckage of the ladder, the focus shifts to the two behemoths.
Steiner, face masked in blood from "Barbie," turns to WALTER. He tries for a Steiner Recliner, but WALTER’s sheer size makes it impossible to lock in. WALTER powers up, his face a mask of cold, calculated rage.
Outside, Moxley attempts to climb back in, but he’s dazed. He grabs one of the steel steps to use as a shield, but in his exhaustion, he trips. WALTER sees the opening. He leans over the ropes and delivers a brutal "Big Boot" that sends the steel steps recoiling back into Moxley’s own head. Moxley collapses, hitting the concrete floor with a sickening thud. He is out cold, a victim of his own weaponry.
The ring is now a graveyard of broken wood and twisted wire. Steiner charges for a spear, but WALTER catches him mid-air.
A final, deafening strike to Steiner's bruised chest.
WALTER lifts the 230-pound Steiner like he’s a cruiserweight and slams him onto the pile of chairs Moxley set up earlier.
Steiner tries to kick out, but WALTER immediately transitions into a Sleeper Hold, then lets go just to deliver a devastating Emerald Flowsion onto a trash can.
WALTER stacks Steiner up, his hand hooked deep under the leg.
One. Two. Three.
WALTER stands alone in the wreckage, the undisputed victor of a triple-threat bloodbath.
Winner: WALTER
EAM Women's Tag Team Championships Matchup
Samoan Scotch (Piper Niven & Nia Jax) (c) Vs TayJay (Anna Jay & Tay Conti)
The arena lights pulse with a golden hue as the challengers, TayJay, make their way to the ring with a blend of confidence and tactical caution. They know the mountain they have to climb. Opposite them stand the EAM Women’s Tag Team Champions, the formidable duo known as Samoan Scotch. Nia Jax looks indifferent to the threat, while Piper Niven moves with a slight stiffness—a lingering reminder of the brutal assault she suffered weeks prior.
The bell rings, and Anna Jay attempts to use her speed to catch Nia Jax off guard. She locks in a sleeper hold early, jumping onto the back of the "Samoan Force of Nature." Nia doesn’t even look bothered; she simply backs Anna into the corner with a sickening thud, knocking the wind out of the "Queen Slayer."
Nia tags in Piper, and the champions begin a systematic dismantling. Piper Niven uses her massive frame to crush Anna in the corner with a cannonball senton. However, as Piper rolls through, she clutches her ribs, grimacing in visible pain. Sensing a weakness, Tay Conti screams for the tag.
Tay enters the ring like a lightning bolt. She utilizes her Judo background, hitting a series of stiff kicks to Piper’s midsection.
Anna Jay and Tay Conti recognized that power-for-power, they couldn't match the champions. Instead, they fought like sharks sensing blood, zeroing in on Piper’s bandaged ribs. Every kick and forearm was surgically placed to aggravate her internal bruising, effectively neutralizing the Scotsman’s legendary strength and forcing Nia Jax into a defensive panic.
The sequence was a masterpiece of tag-team chemistry. Anna gripped Piper for a snap neckbreaker while Tay provided the momentum-boosting impact. As Piper lay dazed, Anna ascended the ropes with fluid grace, launching a springboard Moonsault. She soared through the air, her full body weight crashing down like a hammer onto Niven’s sternum.
For a moment, it looks like the titles are changing hands. The crowd is deafening as Anna locks the Queen’s Slayer on Piper. Niven’s face turns purple, her hand hovering over the canvas to tap. But just as the referee leans in, Nia Jax charges across the ring, discarding Tay Conti like a ragdoll and breaking the submission with a leg drop across Anna's spine.
The match breaks down into chaos. Tay Conti tries to take Nia out with a DDT on the apron, but Nia catches her mid-air and drives her spine-first into the ring post.
Inside the ring, Piper Niven finds her second wind. Despite the agonizing pain in her ribs, she catches a diving Anna Jay and hit a Michinoku Driver that nearly puts Anna through the ring boards. Piper doesn’t go for the pin yet; she drags Anna to the corner and tags in Nia.
Nia Jax climbs the ropes—a terrifying sight. She delivers the Annialator (Bonsai Drop) with soul-crushing force. Piper stands guard, intercepting a recovering Tay Conti with a devastating crossbody.
One. Two. Three.
[Winners and Still EAM Women’s Tag Team Champions: Samoan Scotch
The referee hands the titles to the victors. Nia Jax raises her belt high, but the celebration is cut short. Piper Niven collapses to one knee, clutching her side, her breathing heavy and labored. Nia drops her title to check on her partner, showing a rare moment of genuine concern.
Suddenly, the arena lights flicker and die. When the emergency strobes kick in, two figures in obsidian-black masks and tactical gear are already in the ring. They move with professional efficiency. One strikes Nia with a collapsible baton to the back of the knee, while the other delivers a stiff, running knee to Piper’s injured ribs.
The assault is surgical and brief. Before security can even reach the ringside barricade, the masked attackers roll under the bottom rope and vanish into the crowd through the darkened concourse. Nia and Piper are left shattered in the center of the ring, their championship celebration turned into a crime scene.
Singles Matchup
Danhausen Vs " The Demon " Prince Devitt
The atmosphere shifts from whimsical to macabre as the lights flicker between a neon green and a soul-piercing crimson. Danhausen stands in the ring, striking his signature pose and attempting to summon a curse, but the arena goes cold. The heartbeat of a war drum echoes, and "The Demon" Prince Devitt emerges, crawling through a fog of dry ice, his body painted in intricate, terrifying patterns of teeth and eyes.
The bell rings, and Danhausen immediately tries to "curse" the Demon. He points his fingers with frantic energy, but Devitt doesn't flinch. Instead, the Demon tilts his head, a predatory grin spreading across his painted face. Before Danhausen can reach into his jar of teeth, Devitt explodes with a Shotgun Dropkick that sends the "Very Nice, Very Evil" star flying into the turnbuckles.
Devitt is a blur of kinetic violence. He stalks Danhausen, delivering stiff, overhead chops that echo like gunshots. Danhausen tries to fight back with a series of desperate palm strikes, and for a moment, he finds an opening. He catches Devitt with a sharp Northern Lights Suplex, but the Demon doesn't just kick out—he sits up instantly, mirroring the terrifying rise of the Undertaker.
Danhausen, realizing his usual antics won't work, reaches for his jar of teeth. He manages to pour them into Devitt’s mouth, but the Demon simply crunches down, staring into Danhausen's soul with unblinking eyes. The intimidation factor is overwhelming.
The match spills to the apron, where Danhausen attempts a Hurricanrana, but Devitt catches him. With terrifying strength, the Demon executes a 1916 (Bloody Sunday) directly onto the hard edge of the ring. Danhausen’s lanky frame crumples, and the referee begins a frantic count.
Beating the count by a fraction of a second, Danhausen rolled into the ring, gasping for air. He was met instantly by the blur of the Demon’s war paint. Devitt didn't give him a moment to breathe, charging like a predatory animal to intercept Danhausen before he could even find his footing.
Summoning every ounce of "evil" energy, Danhausen hoisted the Demon up for a jagged "GTS-hausen." The knee connected flush, but it only served to wake the beast. Devitt rebounded off the cables with supernatural speed, turning Danhausen inside out with a lariat that sounded like a car crash.
Devitt ascends the top rope, his silhouette cast against the red lights like a gargoyle. Danhausen staggers to his feet, dazed and clutching his jaw. Devitt leaps, his body compacting into a spear-like shape.
Devitt’s boots drive into Danhausen’s chest with the force of a falling anvil. The air is sucked out of the "Very Evil" one instantly. Devitt doesn't just pin him; he hooks both legs and stares directly into the hard camera, a silent warning to the rest of the roster.
Winner: "The Demon" Prince Devitt
Triple Threat Matchup
DDP Vs John Laurinaitis Vs Randy Orton
The air in the arena is electric, charged by the presence of three men synonymous with the "RKO" lineage. Diamond Dallas Page (DDP), the master of the Diamond Cutter, stands across from the man who pioneered the Ace Crusher, John Laurinaitis, while Randy Orton—the Apex Predator who perfected the craft—prowls the perimeter like a shark in shallow water.
The match begins with a tense three-way standoff. DDP flashes the "Self-Grown" diamond sign, Laurinaitis adjusts his suit tie with corporate arrogance, and Orton simply stares, cold and calculating.
The action explodes when Laurinaitis tries to clothesline both men, but they duck in unison, sending "Big Johnny" tumbling over the top rope. This leaves DDP and Orton alone. The two trade veteran strikes, DDP connecting with a signature discus lariat that rocks the Viper. DDP calls for the Diamond Cutter, but Orton slips out, attempting an early RKO that DDP manages to shove off.
Laurinaitis slides back in with a steel chair, looking to take control through "People Power." He catches DDP in the ribs, then turns to Orton. However, his slow, deliberate pace is his undoing. Orton kicks the chair into Laurinaitis’s face, sending the executive reeling.
DDP seizes the moment, pulling Orton into a Belly-to-Back Suplex, then immediately transitions into a Diamond Cutter on Laurinaitis! The crowd erupts as DDP goes for the cover, but Orton breaks it up at the last millisecond with a brutal stomp to DDP’s head.
The closing moments are a whirlwind of high-impact counters. DDP sets up for another Cutter on Orton, but the Viper counters with an elevated DDT off the second rope. As DDP rolls out of the ring, clutching his neck, Laurinaitis staggers to his feet.
He lunges at Orton for an Ace Crusher, but Randy is three steps ahead. He shoves Laurinaitis off, leaps into the air with predatory grace, and catches him mid-desperation with a thunderous RKO. The impact bounces Laurinaitis off the canvas. Orton doesn't just pin him; he stares down the hard camera with a wide-eyed, manic intensity.
One. Two. Three.
Winner: Randy Orton
The Sign of Respect
As the bell rings, the "Voices" in Orton’s head seem to quiet. He stands over the fallen Laurinaitis, then turns to see DDP pulling himself up using the ropes. Instead of attacking, Orton extends a hand. DDP takes it, and the two legends share a nod of mutual respect—a passing of the torch between masters of the "Cutter."
Even Laurinaitis, recovering from the RKO, is helped to his feet by DDP. The three men stand in the center of the ring, representing three generations of the same deadly maneuver. The crowd rises in a standing ovation, chanting "R-K-O!" and "D-D-P!" as the three competitors acknowledge the fans, united by the move that defined their careers.
Tag Team Matchup
Orange Cassidy & Shawn Michaels Vs John Morrison & Eli Drake
The arena is a surreal blend of "Showstopper" energy and "Slacker" chill as Shawn Michaels tunes up the band while Orange Cassidy slowly adjusts his sunglasses. Across the ring, the "Prince of Parkour" John Morrison and the "Namas-Day" extraordinaire Eli Drake (LA Knight) look on with sheer disbelief. The contrast in styles is jarring, but as the bell rings, the technical proficiency in the ring is undeniable.
The Opening Exchange: High Stakes and Low Energy
The match begins with Morrison and Cassidy. Morrison performs a series of intricate backflips and parkour maneuvers just to get into a collar-and-elbow tie-up. Cassidy, unimpressed, simply puts his hands in his pockets. Morrison lunges, but Cassidy executes a series of "lethargic" kip-ups and deep arm drags without ever removing his hands from his denim.
The crowd explodes when Cassidy tags in the "Heartbreak Kid." HBK and Morrison engage in a sequence of chain wrestling that looks like a choreographed dance—reversals into armbars, bridged pin attempts, and lightning-fast nip-ups. Morrison manages to catch Michaels with a springboard roundhouse kick, but HBK flops into his own corner, tagging a reluctant Cassidy back in.
The Breakdown: Chaos and Parkour
Eli Drake enters the fray, looking to dismantle Cassidy’s nonchalance. He catches Orange with a massive powerslam and begins to taunt the crowd, shouting his signature catchphrases. However, Cassidy catches him with a sudden Stundog Millionaire, staggering the loudmouth.
Seeing his partner in trouble, Morrison leaps over the top rope, but Cassidy (still with hands in pockets) simply leans out of the way. Morrison’s momentum carries him into the front row. Cassidy, feeling a rare surge of "effort," rolls out of the ring to follow him.
The match splits into two distinct battles:
The Ring: HBK vs. Eli Drake.
The Crowd: Orange Cassidy vs. John Morrison.
Morrison and Cassidy begin a frantic, imaginative brawl through the arena seats. Morrison uses a guardrail to execute a Starship Pain onto a concrete floor, but Cassidy somehow rolls under a popcorn machine to avoid it. They fight up the stairs, Morrison throwing kicks while Cassidy counters by gently tossing a fan's oversized soda into Morrison’s chest. They are completely lost in their own world of slapstick violence, ignoring the referee’s warnings.
Back in the ring, Eli Drake is distracted by the sight of his partner being chased by a man in a denim jacket through Section 104. He turns around right into a vintage inverted atomic drop from Michaels. HBK follows up with a flying forearm and the trademark "kip-up" that brings the house down.
Michaels begins to stomp the mat. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Drake staggers to his feet, dazed and looking for Morrison, but Morrison is currently mid-air jumping off a concession stand three hundred feet away. As Drake turns his head back to the center of the ring, he meets the sole of a wrestling boot.
Sweet Chin Music!
The impact is perfect. Drake crumples like a folding chair. Michaels hooks the leg, looking toward the crowd where Cassidy and Morrison are currently fighting over a merchandise table, completely oblivious to the pinfall.
One. Two. Three.
Winners: Shawn Michaels & Orange Cassidy
The bell has rung, the music is playing, but the brawl doesn't stop. Security finally swarms the backstage corridor near the loading dock, physically prying Orange Cassidy and John Morrison apart. Cassidy is calmly trying to put his sunglasses back on while Morrison is panting, looking for another wall to jump off of.
Suddenly, Randy Orton rounds the corner, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. He shoves a security guard aside and gets inches from Morrison’s face before turning his glare to Cassidy.
"The match ended five minutes ago!" Orton bellows, his voice echoing off the concrete. "We just had a Hall of Famer win a main event, and you two are playing tag in the hallways like children? Do you even know who won? Do you even care about the legacy of this business?"
Cassidy looks at Orton, gives a slow, singular thumb up, and wanders off toward the catering table. Orton looks like he’s about to have a physical meltdown.
EAM Center of Attention Championship Matchup
Mickie James (c) Vs Skye Blue
The spotlight shines bright on the EAM Center of Attention Championship, a title that demands not just skill, but the ability to command the room. The veteran champion, Mickie James, stands across from the rising phenom, Skye Blue. There is a mutual respect in the air, but as the bell rings, it is quickly replaced by the cold reality of championship gold.
The match begins with a classic test of strength. Mickie, the "Hardcore Country" legend, uses her veteran savvy to ground the quicker Skye Blue. However, Skye has been studying. Every time Mickie goes for a side headlock, Skye counters with a hip toss or a nimble escape.
The momentum shifts when Skye Blue catches Mickie on the apron. With a burst of speed, Skye executes a low dropkick aimed directly at Mickie’s knee. Mickie’s leg buckles against the steel ring post. A collective gasp rises from the crowd as Mickie clutches her right limb. This is the turning point—Skye Blue isn't just here to compete; she’s here to dismantle a legend.
Skye Blue becomes a predator. She focuses entirely on the right leg of the champion
Skye Blue demonstrated a ruthless streak rarely seen in the young star. She trapped Mickie’s right leg between the middle and top ropes, creating a makeshift lever. With a sudden, violent twist of her own body, Skye executed a Dragon Screw that sent a sickening pop through the arena. Mickie’s knee twisted unnaturally, leaving the champion screaming in pure, unadulterated pain.
Sensing the champion was compromised, Skye transitioned instantly into a deep Single-Leg Boston Crab. She sat back with her full weight, driving her heel into Mickie’s lower back while hyperextending the damaged knee joint. Mickie’s fingers clawed desperately at the canvas, inching toward the bottom rope as her face contorted, every centimeter of movement a battle against her own ligaments.
Mickie James shows the heart that made her a multi-time champion. On one good leg, she hobbles to her feet and nails a series of "Hardcore Country" forearm smashes. She attempts her signature Mick-Kick, but her right leg gives out upon impact, sending her crashing to the mat. Skye seizes the moment, climbing the turnbuckle for a crossbody, but Mickie catches her mid-air with a desperate, seated powerbomb.
The closing minutes are a masterclass in resilience. Skye tries for the Skye-Fall, but Mickie counters by grabbing the hair and pulling Skye into a snap DDT position. Her leg is shaking, visibly swollen around the ankle, but Mickie grits her teeth.
She connects with a spinning neckbreaker, then slowly—painfully—climbs the ropes. She misses a diving seated senton as Skye rolls away, but as Skye lunges for a final strike, Mickie catches her in the Mickie-DT. The impact is thunderous. Mickie hooks the leg, her face contorted in pain as she holds the cover.
One. Two. Three.
Winner and Still EAM Center of Attention Champion: Mickie James
Mickie James barely has time to grasp her title before the lights in the arena turn a sickly, bruised purple. Suddenly, a figure in a jagged, bone-white mask and a tattered black hood slides into the ring like a vengeful spirit. Before the referee can intervene, the assailant is on the mat, showing a terrifying focus.
The masked figure doesn’t go for the face; she goes for the wound. She locks Mickie’s injured right leg into a brutal, modified figure-four, slamming the limb repeatedly against the canvas with calculated malice. The screams of the champion echo through the rafters as the attacker twists the ligaments with expert cruelty. Security, still breathless from separating Cassidy and Morrison backstage, finally swarms the ring. Only then does the figure sit back, slowly peeling away the mask to reveal the cold, haunting face of Julia Hart.
With a wicked, chilling smirk, Julia releases the hold and slips through the legs of the guards, vanishing into the darkness of the crowd before they can lay a finger on her.
The arena goes silent as Emil A. Melby, the EAM Chairman and Mickie’s husband, sprints down the ramp, his face pale with terror. He drops to his knees beside her, shouting for paramedics. The scene is heartbreaking as Mickie is carefully hoisted onto a gurney, her leg stabilized in a heavy brace. As they wheel her toward the ambulance, Emil walks beside her, gripping her hand tightly, while the crowd—once cheering for a victory—now watches in somber silence as their "Center of Attention" is carried away.
Blindfold Matchup
Johnny Gargano Vs Tommaso Ciampa
The lights in the arena dim to a solitary spotlight over the center of the ring. This isn't just another chapter in the storied rivalry of DIY; it is a psychological nightmare. Both Johnny Gargano and Tommaso Ciampa stand in opposite corners, pulling thick, black hoods over their heads. The "Blindfold Match" begins not with a lockup, but with the haunting sound of two men swatting at the empty air.
The bell rings, and the usual frenetic pace of a Gargano-Ciampa encounter is replaced by a high-stakes game of Marco Polo. Gargano crouches low, sweeping his hands across the canvas, while Ciampa remains eerily still, tilting his head to catch the sound of Johnny’s breathing.
The first contact is accidental. Their shoulders brush, and both men recoil as if shocked. Ciampa lunges with a wild clothesline that whistles through the air, hitting nothing but the turnbuckle pad. Gargano, hearing the thud, stalks the sound. He finds Ciampa’s waist and attempts a German Suplex, but without his sight, his footing is off. Ciampa elbows his way out, his strikes landing blindly against Johnny’s ribs and shoulders.
The match becomes a masterclass in tension. Gargano finds the ropes and uses them to orient himself, springboarding into a moonsault that miraculously connects with a standing Ciampa. The crowd erupts, but the celebration is short-lived. Gargano goes for the cover, but he ends up pinning Ciampa’s legs instead of his shoulders.
Ciampa crawls toward the apron, grabbing a stray water bottle left by a technician. He crinkles the plastic, Gargano lunges toward the sound, but Ciampa has already moved. As Johnny lunges, Ciampa catches him in a waist lock and drives him into the corner.
Ciampa begins to strip the padding off the turnbuckle, the metallic clinking of the wrench giving his position away. Johnny tries to counter with a Gargano Escape, but he can’t find the arm. He’s grasping at Ciampa’s beard, his face a mask of frustration behind the black cloth.
The climax occurs when both men end up on the apron. The referee is frantically trying to stay out of the way of four flailing arms. Gargano catches Ciampa with a "One Final Beat" DDT, but because he can't see the ring, they both tumble to the floor.
Ciampa is the first to find his bearings by feeling the steel steps. He crawls back inside, pulling his hood tighter. As Gargano slides in, Ciampa hears the friction of Johnny's boots on the canvas. He doesn't hesitate. He reaches out, grabs Johnny by the head, and pulls him into a Fairytale Ending.
The impact is blind and brutal. Ciampa fumbles for the body, his hands skating over Johnny’s chest until he finds the shoulders. He presses down with his full weight, staring into the darkness of his own hood.
One. Two. Three.
Winner: Tommaso Ciampa
As the referee pulls the hoods away, the sudden glare of the house lights hits them like a physical blow. Ciampa sits back, panting, his eyes bloodshot and weary as he stares at a dazed Gargano. There is no triumph in his gaze—only a cold, hollow recognition of the damage done. Johnny reaches out, his vision blurry, instinctively looking for his brother’s hand, but Ciampa pulls away. The silence of the arena is heavy; the "Blackheart" has won, but the sight of these two warriors finally seeing the wreckage they’ve created leaves the crowd in a stunned, somber hush.
EAM Tag Team Championships Matchup
The Lucha Bros (Rey Fenix & Pentagon Jr.) (c) Vs The Broken Hardyz (Broken Matt & Brother Nero)
The atmosphere in the arena is electric as the lights flicker with the chaotic energy of the multiverse. In one corner, the Lucha Bros, Rey Fenix and Penta El Zero Miedo, stand as the pinnacle of modern lucha libre excellence. In the other, the "Broken" brilliance of Matt Hardy and the daredevil soul of Brother Nero (Jeff Hardy) look on with wild-eyed intensity. The EAM Tag Team Championships are on the line, and the fans know they are about to witness a war of styles.
The bell rings and the speed is immediate. Rey Fenix and Brother Nero start the match with a sequence that defies gravity. Fenix utilizes a handspring backflip into a headscissors, but Jeff counters with a whisper-in-the-wind attempt that Fenix narrowly avoids. The two stalwarts of the high-flying genre stare each other down, acknowledging the shared madness in their blood.
Meanwhile, Penta and Matt Hardy trade stiff strikes in the center of the ring. Penta delivers his signature "Cero Miedo" taunt, only for Matt to respond by screaming "DELETE!" into Penta’s face. The physical exchange turns brutal when Penta catches Matt with a thunderous slingblade. As Matt rolls to the outside, Fenix takes to the sky, executing a tornillo over the top rope that wipes out both Hardyz on the floor.
The match moves back inside, where the Lucha Bros showcase their terrifying tag-team chemistry. They catch Brother Nero in the corner, and Fenix uses Penta’s chest as a stepping stone to deliver a soaring dropkick. The champions are a whirlwind of offense, but the Hardyz have spent decades surviving such onslaughts.
Matt Hardy catches Fenix mid-air and plants him with a Side Effect onto the hard apron. Seeing the opening, Brother Nero ascends the turnbuckle. He doesn't go for a splash; he performs a high-angle Poetry in Motion using Matt’s back as a launchpad to crush Penta against the barricade. The crowd is on its feet as the Hardyz bring a ladder into the ring. Although this isn't a ladder match, the referee allows the chaos to continue under the "relaxed" championship rules.
The Hardyz set the ladder up in the corner, intending to use it as a weapon of destruction. Matt Hardy attempts a Twist of Fate on Fenix, but the luchador flips out of the hold with cat-like reflexes, landing on the second rung of the ladder. From there, Fenix leaps off with a 450 Splash that lands perfectly on Matt Hardy.
Penta returns to the ring, snapping Brother Nero’s arm with his devastating arm-breaker package. The scream from Jeff echoes, but the daredevil doesn't quit. In a moment of pure desperation, Jeff Hardy shoves Penta toward the ladder and begins a frantic climb. He isn't looking for a belt; he’s looking for a height from which he can end the match.
Jeff reaches the top of the ladder, his eyes fixed on Penta, who is staggered in the center of the ring. The crowd hushes, anticipating a Swanton Bomb from the heavens. Jeff balances himself, ready to fly, but Rey Fenix recovers with supernatural speed. Fenix doesn't climb the ladder; he hits the ropes and delivers a springboard dropkick directly into the side of the metal structure.
The ladder tips violently. Jeff Hardy’s arms flail as the steel collapses under him. He crashes down, his body hitting the top rope before spilling onto the canvas with a sickening thud. With Jeff neutralized, Penta and Fenix converge on Matt Hardy. They execute the Fear Factor—a devastating package piledriver and double-foot stomp combination.
One. Two. Three.
Winners and Still EAM Tag Team Champions: The Lucha Bros
Ornate Prime Championship Matchup
Triple C (c) Vs MJF
The arena is bathed in a golden glow as the Ornate Prime Championship is polished one last time before being hoisted by the referee. The champion, Triple C (Claudio Castagnoli), stands like a statue of marble and muscle. Across from him, MJF adjusts his Burberry scarf, his face twisted in a smug smirk that radiates "Salt of the Earth" arrogance. This is a battle of the ultimate athlete versus the ultimate opportunist.
The bell rings, and the contrast is immediate. Claudio attempts to lock up, but MJF immediately retreats to the ropes, complaining to the referee about a hair-pull that didn't happen. When they finally engage, Claudio’s power is overwhelming. He catches MJF in a side headlock and transitions into a deadlift suplex that leaves the challenger gasping for air.
Claudio begins the "European Uppercut Express," cornering MJF and lighting up his chest with strikes that sound like leather hitting a heavy bag. MJF, realizing he can't out-wrestle the Swiss Superman, resorts to his trademark "Generational Talent" tactics. He pokes Claudio in the eye while the referee is distracted and follows up with a chop block to the knee, grounding the champion.
MJF begins to dismantle Claudio’s base. He wraps Claudio’s leg around the ring post, slamming it with a steel chair when the referee’s back is turned. Inside the ring, MJF locks in a Figure-Four Leglock, mocking Claudio by performing "Cero Miedo" taunts and blowing kisses to the front row.
Claudio, fueled by sheer willpower, manages to reverse the pressure. He powers out, his massive thighs quivering under the strain. He catches MJF mid-air and executes a Giant Swing—twenty rotations that leave the arena spinning and MJF’s equilibrium shattered. Claudio goes for the cover, but MJF manages to get a finger on the bottom rope at two-and-nine-tenths.
As the match nears the thirty-minute mark, MJF finds his opening. He ducks a lariat and connects with a low blow while the referee is out of position. He pulls the Diamond Ring from his trunks, but Claudio boots it out of his hand. Undeterred, MJF traps Claudio in the corner. He begins to pummel the champion, his ego taking over.
MJF drags a dazed Claudio to the center of the ring. He has the champion on his knees. MJF grabs Claudio by the jaw, pulling his face close. He wants the ultimate humiliation.
"Say my name!" MJF screams, spittle flying. "Say it! Tell them I'm better than you!"
Just as MJF opens his mouth to demand more, the lights flicker. A familiar, infectious chord strikes over the PA system. The crowd, sensing the impossible, begins to rise in a wave of pure delirium.
"I believe in Joe Hendry!"
The music cranks to a deafening volume. Joe Hendry steps out onto the stage, flashing a million-dollar smile and waving to the fans. The arena becomes a sea of rhythm as the fans clap in unison. MJF freezes. His eyes go wide, his jaw dropping in a mix of confusion and utter annoyance. He stares at the stage, shouting insults at Hendry, completely forgetting that he is in a championship match with one of the most dangerous men on the planet.
Behind him, Claudio Castagnoli finds his footing. The "Swiss Superman" rises like a phoenix. As MJF turns around to continue his verbal assault, he walks straight into a Pop-Up European Uppercut. Claudio doesn't stop there. He lifts MJF high and drives him into the canvas with a thunderous Ricola Bomb.
One. Two. Three.
Winner and Still Ornate Prime Champion: Triple C
MJF lies face-down on the canvas, the victim of his own obsession with fame. On the ramp, Joe Hendry simply gives a "thumbs up" and winks at the hard camera before strolling backstage. Claudio raises his championship high, nodding toward the entrance in silent thanks for the assist, while the crowd continues to chant Hendry’s theme at the top of their lungs.
Triple Threat Matchup
CM Punk Vs Seth Rollins Vs AJ Styles
The atmosphere inside the sold-out arena was thick with a tension that hadn't simmered since the controversial finish at SuperSplash XII. As the bell rang, the three masters of the modern era circled one another, a triangle of pure animosity.
The match didn't start with a collar-and-elbow tie-up; it started with chaos. AJ Styles immediately targeted CM Punk, a carryover from their previous encounter, unloading with a series of stiff strikes that backed the "Best in the World" into the corner. Not to be outdone, Seth "Freakin" Rollins inserted himself with a springboard high-knee to Styles, momentarily clearing the ring.
The pace was frenetic. Early on, Rollins and Styles found themselves in a stalemate of athleticism—reversing backflips and trading arm drags—until Punk slid back in, sweeping Rollins’ legs and transitioning into an Anaconda Vise. The crowd roared, but the submission was short-lived as Styles broke the hold with a brutal Phenomenal Dropkick to the side of Punk’s head.
As the match crossed the ten-minute mark, the physicality shifted from strikes to high-stakes maneuvers. The story of the match became the "Target on the Back." Rollins, ever the opportunist, focused his assault on Punk’s surgically repaired ribs. He delivered a trio of Suicide Dives, one to Styles and two to Punk, punctuated by a Falcon Arrow in the center of the ring for a near-fall.
"They are tearing the house down! This isn't just a rematch; it's a fight for a legacy," the commentators shouted over the deafening "This is Awesome" chants.
Styles found his opening when Rollins missed a Phoenix Splash. "The Phenomenal One" capitalized with a Ushigoroshi, followed by a series of strikes that left Rollins dazed. He signaled for the Styles Clash, but Punk—recovering on the apron—caught AJ with a springboard clothesline.
The momentum swung wildly. At one point, all three men were perched on the top turnbuckle. In a terrifying display of strength and timing, Rollins executed a Superplex on Punk, but before he could roll through into the Falcon Arrow, Styles hit a Springboard 450 Splash onto both of them.
The referee's count reached two and seven-eighths before Punk managed to kick out, his face a mask of crimson and sweat. The exhaustion was visible. Rollins was the first to his feet, cackling with a manic energy. He set Punk up for the Curb Stomp, his boots rhythmically thumping the mat.
Rollins surged forward, but Punk scouted it perfectly. He sidestepped the stomp and hoisted Rollins onto his shoulders. At the same time, Styles moved to the apron, prepping the Phenomenal Forearm.
As Styles launched through the air, Punk used Rollins’ body as a shield. Styles’ forearm connected flush with Rollins' jaw, but the momentum sent Styles tumbling over the top rope to the floor. Punk, sensing the moment was now or never, didn't let Rollins fall. He adjusted his grip, hoisted Seth back up, and delivered a thunderous Go To Sleep (GTS).
Rollins crumpled, his lights completely out. Punk collapsed on top of him, hooking the leg with every ounce of strength he had left.
1...
2...
Outside the ring, AJ Styles realized the danger. He scrambled toward the ropes, sliding into the ring with a desperate lunging dive, his hand outstretched to break the count.
3!
The referee’s hand hit the mat for the third time just a split second before Styles’ fingers could graze Punk’s shoulder.
Winner: CM Punk
Punk rolles to the corner, clutching his ribs, a smirk playing on his lips despite the pain. He had his redemption. Styles remained face-down on the canvas, mere inches from the pinfall, pounding the mat in frustration. The ghosts of SuperSplash XII were finally laid to rest, the dissepointment on Aj's face says it all. 