Rolling Johnny Stones vs Richard Blood

The bell rings and the crowd is loud early — they know the stakes. Richard Blood needs a win. Rolling Johnny Stones wants to prove last week wasn’t a fluke. And both men carry the same deadly weapon: the Brainbuster.

They start tight and technical, trading holds with a crispness that gets the fans clapping along. Stones scores first with a sharp arm drag and a running knee, covering for a quick two. Blood answers with a hip toss, a basement dropkick, and a near‑fall of his own.

The pace builds. Stones hooks Blood for the Brainbuster, but Blood blocks it instantly — the crowd pops. Blood tries for his own, but Stones slips behind and shoves him chest‑first into the turnbuckle.

Stones hits a Rolling Neckbreaker and signals for it again. He hoists Blood up… …but Blood kicks his legs, twists free, and lands behind him.

They trade counters, forearms, desperation shots — both men wobbling, both men knowing one clean Brainbuster ends it.

Stones swings wildly. Blood ducks. Hooks the arm. Lifts.

BRAINBUSTER! Blood spikes Stones dead‑centre and collapses on top.

1… 2… 3.

Blood sits up slowly, breathing hard, staring at the mat. He won — but it was close. Too close. The frustration is still there, simmering under the surface as he rolls out and walks up the ramp without celebrating.

Hail to the King Semi‑Final - Yosuke Narita vs Louis Figo Manico

Richard Blood is still walking up the aisle, sweat dripping, jaw tight after his narrow win. He’s halfway up when—

Narita’s music hits.

The crowd pops. Narita storms out with that cold, laser‑focused intensity, not even looking at Blood at first — he just wants to get to the ring and get this semi‑final underway.

But the aisle is narrow. Blood is still there. And they walk straight into each other.

Blood turns, surprised. Narita freezes… then snarls.

Narita shoves Blood. Blood shoves back. Narita snaps.

He grabs Blood by the wrist and hurls him into the steel steps, the crash echoing through the arena. The crowd gasps as Blood folds on impact. Narita isn’t done — he drags Blood up and launches him over the barricade, sending him crashing into the front row.

Narita rolls into the ring, pacing like a caged animal, demanding the referee start the match.

Manico enters normally — calm, composed, soaking in the reaction. He sees Narita pacing and the referee trying to restore order, but he doesn’t flinch. He steps through the ropes, nods once, and the bell rings.

Narita explodes forward instantly, hammering Manico with stiff forearms and driving him back into the corner. He snaps him down with a Saito suplex and covers, but Manico kicks out at one. Narita drags him up, hits another suplex, then a running boot that sends Manico rolling to the apron. Narita follows, pulling him up by the hair, but Manico fires back with a sharp elbow and a springboard dropkick that finally slows Narita down.

Manico builds momentum with a flurry of arm drags, a running knee, and a basement dropkick that gets a two‑count. He tries to quicken the pace, hitting the ropes, but Narita cuts him off with a brutal lariat that flips him inside out. Narita grabs him by the wrist, yanks him up, and drills him with a German suplex. Manico kicks out again, but he’s rattled.

Narita senses it. He stalks him. He lifts him.

Thunder Shock. Narita spikes Manico dead‑centre, the crowd gasping as Manico’s body goes limp.

Narita collapses into the cover— but Manico’s body rolls sideways on instinct, pure desperation, and both men spill toward the ropes. Narita tries to grab him, but Manico, in a last burst of survival, shoves Narita with everything he has, sending him tumbling through the ropes and crashing to the floor.

Manico collapses face‑down in the ring, barely conscious.

Narita staggers up on the outside, furious, shaking out the cobwebs. He turns toward the barricade—

—and Richard Blood rises out of the crowd.

The arena erupts.

Narita lunges at him, wild and furious, but Blood catches him, hooks him, and drives him into the floor with a Brainbuster, the impact echoing through the arena. Narita’s body goes limp. Blood stands over him, breathing hard, eyes burning with payback, before grabbing Narita by the wrist and rolling him back into the ring.

Inside, the referee is checking on Manico, who is still down from Thunder Shock, completely unaware of what just happened on the outside.

Narita rolls in, barely conscious.

Manico forces himself up, every movement slow and painful. He grabs Narita, hooks him—

Madrid Maul.

He collapses into the cover.

1… 2… 3.

The crowd explodes as Figo Manico pulls off the upset and advances to the Hail to the King Final. Manico lies on the mat, exhausted, barely able to lift an arm in victory. The camera catches Richard Blood on the ramp, staring down at Narita with cold fury, while Narita lies motionless in the ring,

Farrah Hesketh vs Heidi Hyde

Farrah hits the ring with purpose, barely waiting for the bell before charging straight at Hyde and blasting her with a stiff forearm that sends her stumbling into the corner. Farrah unloads with rapid‑fire strikes, snapping Hyde’s head back before whipping her across the ring and following with a running clothesline.

Hyde tries to slow things down, grabbing Farrah by the hair and yanking her into the turnbuckle, then hitting a quick neckbreaker for a two‑count. She stomps Farrah down, talking trash, but the moment she hesitates, Farrah fires up, shoving her away and cracking her with a sharp elbow to the jaw.

Farrah hits the ropes and drills Hyde with Far Farrah Way, the running knee smashing Hyde flat on her back. Instead of covering, Farrah drags her up, wanting to make a statement. She hooks the waist, pops her hips—

Bridge Too Farrah. A perfect bridging German suplex.

1… 2… 3.

Farrah keeps the bridge tight as the referee counts the three, and the moment the bell rings she releases the Bridge Too Farrah and pops up to her feet, breathing hard, fired up, ready for more. Hyde rolls out under the bottom rope, clutching her neck, while Farrah paces the ring like a woman who’s only just getting started.

That’s when the arena lights shift.

Ashley Amazon’s music hits.

The crowd reacts instantly — a mix of cheers and surprise. Amazon steps out onto the stage with the CKW Queen’s Championship over her shoulder, smirking as she looks down at Farrah in the ring.

She raises the mic.

“Farrah… you want a challenge? You want to prove you’re ready for me? Well guess what — I’m not waiting. I want a match right now.”

Farrah grins, nodding, stepping toward the ropes like she’s ready to go again immediately.

But then—

Reese Paige’s music hits.

The crowd pops again as Paige struts out, pointing at Farrah with a mocking smile.

“Oh, Farrah… sweetie… looks like I got a match before you did. Again.”

Farrah’s expression drops into pure annoyance. She leans on the ropes, jaw tight, glaring at Paige as she walks past her and slides into the ring. Amazon smirks at Farrah, then hands the belt to the referee.

CKW Queen Championship - Ashley Amazon (C) vs Reese Paige

Farrah stays at ringside, arms crossed, watching with simmering irritation as the bell rings.

Ashley Amazon and Reese Paige lock up, Paige trying to use her speed early, ducking under Amazon’s grasp and peppering her with quick strikes. Amazon absorbs them, shoves Paige halfway across the ring, and takes control with a heavy clothesline. Paige fights back with a dropkick and a roll‑up attempt, but Amazon powers out and plants her with a spinebuster.

Paige scrambles to her feet, swings wildly— Amazon catches her, hoists her up, and drives her down with the Amazon Arrow.

1… 2… 3.

Ashley Amazon stands tall, retrieving her championship as Paige rolls out of the ring, frustrated and clutching her back. Farrah slides into the ring immediately, stepping right up to Amazon, nose‑to‑nose, the crowd buzzing.

Farrah raises a mic.

“At Hail To The King, I want my title match.”

Amazon doesn’t blink. She lifts the belt between them, staring Farrah dead in the eyes.

“You’ve got it.”

The crowd erupts as the two women stare each other down, the Queen’s Championship glinting between them, the tension thick enough to cut.

Farrah smirks. Amazon smirks back. The match is set.

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The camera cuts backstage to a dimly lit hallway. Yosuke Narita is not standing still — he’s pacing like a caged animal, sweat still dripping from the war he just went through. His hair is wild, his chest heaving, eyes burning with fury.

A backstage interviewer cautiously steps in.

“Yosuke… after what happened out there—”

Narita SNAPS the mic out of his hand.

He stares straight into the camera, jaw clenched so tight it looks painful.

“Richard Blood… YOU cost me that match.”

He points violently at the lens, almost jabbing it.

“I had Figo Manico BEAT. I hit Thunder Shock. I had the final in my hands. And YOU—” Narita slams his fist into a metal production crate, denting it. “—YOU stuck your nose where it didn’t belong.”

He steps closer, breathing hard, voice dropping into a cold, dangerous growl.

“You think this is over? You think you got even?”

Narita shakes his head slowly.

“No. No, Richard. You just started something you can’t stop.”

He grabs the camera by the sides, pulling it in tight so only his eyes fill the frame.

“I’m going to find you. I’m going to hurt you. And I’m going to END you.”

Narita shoves the camera away violently and storms off down the hallway, knocking over a stack of crates as the shot shakes and fades.

The Style Council vs Frank Tucker & The Edmonton Outlaws

Tucker and the Outlaws are already in the ring, pacing and jawing at the crowd, Tucker cracking his knuckles while Tavare Loring and Billy Wood slap each other’s chests to get fired up. The boos turn to cheers as The Style Council hit the aisle — JD Morgan leading the way, Steve Flash right behind him, and Jake Sloan bouncing with that underdog swagger.

The moment Morgan slides into the ring, Tucker charges him and the match erupts before the bell even finishes ringing. All six men brawl wildly, fists flying, Flash trading shots with Wood while Sloan tackles Loring into the corner. The referee finally restores enough order to get two legal men in, and it’s Morgan and Tucker to start.

Tucker muscles Morgan into the corner and unloads with heavy body shots, but Morgan fires back with a sharp European uppercut and a quick takedown. He tags in Flash, who hits the ropes and nails Tucker with a running elbow for a two‑count. Flash tries to quicken the pace, but Tucker catches him mid‑run and plants him with a big powerslam.

The Outlaws tag in and go to work, isolating Flash with quick tags and double‑team strikes. Loring hits a backbreaker, Wood follows with a diving headbutt, and Flash barely kicks out. They drag him to their corner, stomping him down while Tucker shouts instructions from the apron.

Flash finally creates space with a desperation dropkick, crawling toward his corner as the crowd wills him on. Loring grabs his ankle — Flash twists, kicks free, dives—

Tag to Jake Sloan.

The crowd pops as Sloan bursts into the ring, ducking a swing from Loring and firing off rapid‑fire jabs, then a dropkick that sends Loring tumbling. Wood charges in and Sloan catches him with a running neckbreaker. Tucker tries to cut him off, but Sloan ducks under and hits a springboard crossbody that wipes Tucker out.

Morgan tags back in and the Style Council hit a crisp double‑suplex on Loring, but Wood breaks up the pin. Flash springboards in with a crossbody to take Wood out, and suddenly all six men are brawling again.

The Outlaws manage to dump Flash and Sloan to the floor, leaving Morgan alone. Loring and Wood hoist him for a double‑team slam — but Sloan pulls Wood’s leg from the outside, tripping him. Flash yanks Loring off balance.

Morgan rolls through the chaos, grabs Tavare Loring, and cradles him tight.

1… 2… 3.

Loring kicks out a half‑second too late, slamming the mat in frustration as Tucker shouts at the referee. The Outlaws storm the ring complaining about the trip, but Flash and Sloan pull Morgan out to the floor, all three backing up the ramp with big grins, having stolen one right back after weeks of being cheated.

Tucker is furious, Loring is livid, and Vigilante is yelling at the referee as the Style Council celebrate.

Morgan rolls out of the ring with a grin, Flash slapping him on the back as the three regroup on the ramp. Tucker is losing his mind in the ring, Loring pounding the mat in frustration after being caught for the three, and Billy Wood is yelling at the referee like it’ll change anything.

Jake Sloan snatches a mic from ringside and steps forward, pointing back at the furious Outlaws.

“Three on three… two on two… one on one… it doesn’t matter.”

The crowd pops as Sloan paces at the top of the ramp, Morgan and Flash standing behind him with their arms crossed.

“Style Council want those tag titles. And at Hail To The King—”

He points straight at the camera.

“—it’s time my boys Morgan and Flash get another title shot.”

Flash throws up the Style Council pose, Morgan nods with that confident smirk, and the Outlaws are screaming from the ring, daring them to come back down.

Sloan just smiles.

The challenge is officially on.

Hail to the King Semi Final - The Hype vs Eric Tyler