The bell rings and the two circle cautiously, feeling the weight of the tournament. Sloan shoots first, grabbing a waist lock and dragging Hype down to the mat. He grinds him there, keeping things slow and suffocating, forcing Hype to fight from underneath. The crowd claps Hype back to his feet, but Sloan yanks him down again, showing surprising control.

Hype finally slips free, hits the ropes, and picks up speed. He darts around Sloan, forcing him to turn and chase, and the crowd starts to buzz as Hype strings together quick takedowns and evasions that leave Sloan frustrated. Sloan cuts him off with a hard shot that echoes through the civic hall, and suddenly the pace shifts again.

Sloan takes over with a steady, punishing rhythm — corner strikes, a grinding hold, a slam that rattles the ropes. Every time Hype tries to rise, Sloan drags him back down, making him earn every inch. The crowd starts chanting for Hype, stomping the floorboards of the small hall.

Hype finally bursts free, firing up with a flurry that sends Sloan stumbling. He hits the ropes, leaps, and wipes Sloan out, sending the crowd into a frenzy. Sloan rolls to the apron, dazed, but Hype drags him back in and keeps the pressure on, feeding off the noise.

Sloan gets one last surge, catching Hype with a counter that nearly steals the match. The crowd gasps as Hype barely kicks out. Sloan pounds the mat in frustration, pulls Hype up, and goes for the finish — but Hype slips behind him, shoves him into the ropes, and the whole room feels the shift.

Hype catches him clean. Evolution Revolution.

The crowd explodes.

He covers.
One. Two. Three.
The Hype advances, pointing to the bracket board as the fans in the civic hall roar around him.

Hail to the King Tournament Quarterfinal - Puerto Rican Power vs Figo Manico

The crowd perks up the moment Figo Manico steps through the curtain, mask gleaming under the warm civic‑hall lights. He slaps hands with fans on the way down, bouncing with that restless, unpredictable energy he’s known for. Puerto Rican Power follows, all intensity and focus, shoulders squared, eyes locked on the ring like he’s walking into a fight rather than a match.

They meet in the centre, and Power immediately shoves Figo back, trying to bully him early. Figo rolls with it, literally — tumbling out of the corner, popping up behind Power, and giving him a playful tap to the back of the head. The crowd laughs, but Power doesn’t. He charges, grabs Figo, and slams him hard enough to rattle the ropes.

Power takes control with raw strength, tossing Figo around the ring and keeping him grounded. Every time Figo tries to rise, Power drives a shoulder into him or drags him back down, forcing the pace into something slow and suffocating. The crowd starts clapping Figo back to life, stomping the floorboards.

Figo finally slips free, hits the ropes, and starts flying — ducking under Power’s swings, springing off the ropes, and turning the match into chaos. Power tries to catch him, but Figo’s too quick, too slippery, too unpredictable. A burst of speed sends Power stumbling into the corner, and the crowd roars as Figo fires up.

Power gets one last surge, catching Figo mid‑run and nearly planting him for the three. The hall gasps as Figo kicks out at the last heartbeat. Power pounds the mat, furious, dragging Figo up for the finish — but Figo twists out, rolls through, and traps Power in a sudden, tight cradle.

The referee drops. One. Two. Three. The civic hall explodes as Figo Manico steals it, rolling out of the ring with a grin while Power slams the mat in disbelief.

Figo advances in the tournament.

Potential Championship - Frank Tucker vs Jack Action vs Boomer Singh

Frank Tucker defends the Potential Championship against Boomer Singh and Jack Action in a chaotic triple threat that starts messy and only gets wilder. Jack Action is the first to make noise, bursting through the curtain waving his tiny American flag, shouting “USA’s finest!” at a crowd that boos him instantly. He slides into the ring like he owns it. Boomer Singh follows with that heavy, deliberate walk, cracking his knuckles, eyes locked on Action with pure contempt. Then Tucker storms out last, belt over his shoulder, no nonsense, no posing, just stomping straight to the ring like he’s ready to fight both men at once.

The moment Tucker steps through the ropes, Action jumps him from behind, clubbing him down and yelling, “I’m the upgrade, baby!” Boomer grabs Action by the head and hurls him across the ring, sending him tumbling under the bottom rope. Tucker and Boomer square up, two bulls in the centre, and they start trading heavy shots that echo through the civic hall. Tucker gets the better of it, backing Boomer into the corner with stiff forearms, but Boomer explodes out with a massive shoulder block that drops the champion hard.

Action slides back in and tries to steal a pin on Tucker, but Boomer yanks him off by the ankle and stomps him flat. The match breaks down fast — Boomer overpowering both men, Tucker firing back with bursts of rage, and Action constantly trying to pick his spots, cheat, and steal something. At one point Action rakes Boomer’s eyes, hits a running knee, and poses like he’s already won, only for Tucker to blast him with a lariat that flips him inside out.

Boomer and Tucker collide again, trading bombs, neither man giving an inch. Boomer hoists Tucker for the Singh Slam, but Action chop‑blocks Boomer’s knee, sending all three men crashing to the mat. Action scrambles, grabs Tucker, tries a roll‑up with a handful of tights, but Tucker kicks out at two and launches Action halfway across the ring with pure fury.

Boomer gets back up and levels both men with a double clothesline that gets the loudest pop of the match. He drags Tucker up, plants him with a spinebuster, and the crowd thinks it’s over — but Action dives in and breaks the pin at the last heartbeat. Action then tries to lift Boomer for a suplex, fails miserably, and gets thrown like a sack of flour into the corner.

Boomer turns back to Tucker, pulls him up for the finish, but Tucker slips out behind him, shoves Boomer chest‑first into Action in the corner, and as Boomer staggers back, Tucker scoops him, spins him, and drills him with the Nip Tucker dead in the centre of the ring. Action dives too late. Tucker hooks the leg. One. Two. Three.

Frank Tucker retains the Potential Championship.

Tucker snatches his belt, shoves past the referee, and storms out of the ring, shouting at the crowd that nobody is taking this title from him. Boomer rolls to the apron clutching his ribs, furious, while Jack Action throws a tantrum on the floor, kicking the barricade and yelling that the referee “robbed America.”

Rolling Johnny Stones vs El Bandido

El Bandido vs Rolling Johnny Stone starts with the crowd firmly behind Johnny, clapping along as he struts out with that rock‑and‑roll swagger, pointing to fans and hyping them up. He slides into the ring, bouncing on his toes, ready to go. The mood shifts the second El Bandido steps through the curtain — slow, deliberate, mask glinting under the lights, soaking in the boos like they fuel him. He stalks to the ring, never taking his eyes off Johnny.

Johnny tries to start fast, hitting the ropes and peppering Bandido with quick jabs and a sharp dropkick that sends the masked man stumbling into the corner. The crowd pops big as Johnny hits a running forearm and then a second, but when he goes for the third, Bandido steps out and blasts him with a stiff elbow that drops him cold. Bandido immediately slows the pace, dragging Johnny up by the hair and slamming him face‑first into the turnbuckle before grinding his forearm across Johnny’s jaw.

Bandido dominates for a stretch, cutting off every comeback with something nasty — a knee to the ribs, a clubbing shot to the back, a snap suplex that leaves Johnny clutching his spine. He covers casually, almost arrogantly, but Johnny kicks out at two and fires up, slapping the mat and pulling himself to his feet. The crowd rallies behind him as he ducks a wild swing, hits the ropes, and connects with a flying clothesline that finally gets Bandido off his feet.

Johnny strings together his comeback — a running back elbow, a spinning neckbreaker, and a big jumping knee that sends Bandido reeling. He points to the crowd, climbs the ropes, and leaps for a crossbody… but Bandido rolls through, pops to his feet, and nearly steals it with a handful of tights. Johnny kicks out just in time, and the crowd roars.

Bandido snaps, dragging Johnny up and throwing him shoulder‑first into the ring post. He follows with a brutal running knee to the back of the head, then hoists Johnny up and plants him with the Hijack Suplex, driving him into the mat with authority. He hooks the leg, tight and deep. One. Two. Three.

El Bandido wins.

Bandido rises slowly, staring down at Johnny with that cold, mocking tilt of the head before slipping out of the ring without a word. Johnny rolls to the ropes, clutching his neck, frustrated but still getting a warm reaction from the crowd as he pulls himself upright.

Reese Paige vs Farrah Hesketh

Farrah Hesketh doesn’t even wait for her music. She storms through the curtain and sprints straight to the ring, sliding under the ropes with murder in her eyes. Reese Paige is right behind her, not even pretending to make an entrance — she dives in after Farrah and the two collide in the centre of the ring like they’re trying to tear each other apart.

There’s no lock‑up. No circling. No feeling‑out. Just fists.

They’re throwing wild punches, dragging each other to the mat, rolling, clawing, screaming. The referee tries to separate them and gets shoved aside instantly. Farrah tackles Reese into the corner and unloads with stiff forearms to the jaw, but Reese rakes the eyes and fires back with a barrage of elbows that send Farrah stumbling.

Reese charges — Farrah meets her with a takedown and they spill through the ropes to the floor, still swinging. The crowd is on its feet as they crash into the barricade, Reese slamming Farrah’s head against the rail, Farrah grabbing Reese by the hair and dragging her down onto the concrete.

Reese tries to whip Farrah into the steps — Farrah reverses and sends Reese crashing knee‑first into the steel. Reese screams, clutching her leg, but Farrah doesn’t give her a second. She pounces, hammering her with short, sharp punches until Reese shoves her off and scrambles back into the ring.

Farrah follows — and walks straight into a running knee from Reese that nearly takes her head off. Reese covers, but Farrah kicks out at two and immediately lunges at her again, grabbing Reese by the throat and dragging her back to her feet.

They trade shots in the middle of the ring, each one louder than the last, neither woman backing down. Reese spits in Farrah’s face. Farrah snaps — she grabs Reese, spins her, and plants her with a brutal snap DDT that leaves both women gasping on the mat.

Farrah crawls over, hooks the leg, and gets the three count.

Farrah Hesketh wins — but she doesn’t stop. She mounts Reese and keeps throwing punches until the referee physically pulls her off. Farrah shoves him away, chest heaving, eyes locked on Reese like she still wants more.

Reese rolls to the apron, clutching her jaw, glaring daggers back at Farrah. This isn’t over. Not even close.

Farrah is still catching her breath when she grabs the mic, hair messy, adrenaline still pumping. Reese Paige is on the floor outside the ring, and Farrah points at her with pure frustration.

“Reese… this is what happens every time. Every. Single. Time. You don’t want to win — you just want to drag me down with you.”

The crowd reacts, backing her.

Farrah leans over the ropes, voice sharp but controlled.

“At Long Live The King, you were too busy clawing at me to notice Ashley Amazon walking circles around us. You didn’t cost yourself that match — you cost me.”

Reese tries to pull herself up. Farrah doesn’t attack her — she just stares her down.

“I’m done letting you ruin my chances. I’m done letting you pull me into your mess. Tonight proved it — you’re not stopping me anymore.”

Farrah turns to the hard cam, fire in her eyes.

“And now that the distraction is gone… Ashley Amazon — I heard your challenge.”

She taps her chest.

“You want contenders? You’ve got one.”

The crowd pops.

“I’m coming for that Queen’s Championship. No more chaos. No more Reese Paige dragging me backwards. Just me… focused… and ready.”

She looks back at Reese one last time.

“And if you try to get in my way again? I’ll put you right back down. But I’m done fighting you. I’m fighting up now.”

Farrah drops the mic and leaves the ring to cheers, walking past Reese without even looking at her again.

Tag Team Championship - Edmonton Outlaws vs Roman Heidenseik and Sammy Bach

The Edmonton Outlaws — Tavare Loring and Vigilante Hawk — hit the ring with zero patience and even less mercy. Roman Heidensek and Sammy Bach barely step through the curtain before the Outlaws are on them, fists flying, smashing them into the barricade and dragging them to the ring like prey.

The referee rings the bell because he has no other choice.

Hawk boots Bach in the chest so hard he flips backward. Loring grabs Roman, cracks him with a stiff forearm, and plants him with a powerslam that rattles the boards. Bach tries to crawl away — Hawk stomps him flat and drags him up by the wrist.

The Outlaws share a look. This is over.

Loring hoists Bach upside‑down, locking him in position. Hawk climbs the second rope, steady, cold, deliberate. The crowd gasps as they hit their finisher — a brutal spike piledriver they now call The Last Ride Out of Edmonton — dropping Bach straight down like they’re trying to end his career.

Roman tries to dive in to save his partner, but Loring steps forward and floors him with a straight right hand that shuts him off like a light.

Hawk covers Bach. One. Two. Three.

The Edmonton Outlaws retain the CKW Tag Team Championships in a merciless, dominant squash.

Eric Tyler & The Masked Grappler vs Axxis Jr & Richard Blood