The WrestleZone is packed to capacity. The crowd is alive with energy — anticipation buzzing like static in the air. Fans wave signs, chant names, and scan the entrance ramp as the lights dim to a cool, ominous blue.
John Phillips: Ladies and gentlemen, we welcome you to the Rumble at the WrestleZone — and this is it. Twenty superstars. One ring. One chance to change their destiny.
Mark Bravo: Every single one of these competitors drew their numbers earlier today. And whoever ends this night standing tall will have a major advantage in the Ace in the Hole match at WrestleUTA: 25.
Phillips: But remember — this isn’t just about winning. The last six remaining will all qualify for that career-defining ladder match. Tonight? Survival means opportunity.
The fans begin to murmur in anticipation as a graphic appears on screen: “ENTRY #1”
The lights suddenly cut out.
Then—
Red, white, and blue flood the stage as fireworks crack like cannon fire. The opening beat of “American Flags” by Tom MacDonald blares over the speakers, and the crowd erupts.
Phillips: And look who drew #1! The investigative powerhouse himself — Jarvis Valentine!
Jarvis Valentine emerges through the smoke, dressed in his signature patriotic gear. Subtle Q and 17 insignias shimmer in the lighting as he surveys the arena, a stern expression across his face. Every step down the ramp is slow, deliberate, proud.
The crowd claps along to his entrance rhythm. Valentine pauses midway down the ramp and raises his hand into a subtle “Q” — the fans roar in response.
Bravo: Jarvis might be walking into this at number one, but don’t count him out. He’s got gas in the tank and revenge in his heart.
Phillips: That’s right — this man came this close to punching his ticket to WrestleUTA: 25’s main event before B.R. Ellis cost him the title. And now…
Jarvis steps through the ropes, climbs the turnbuckle, and surveys the field like a man on a mission. He paces the ring as the screen flashes again:
ENTRY #2
The arena darkens again. A single spotlight hits the ramp. Sharp, militaristic strings and booming drums echo through the speakers. The crowd buzzes with uncertainty — and then a mix of cheers and jeers as B.R. Ellis steps into the light.
He’s calm. Stoic. Focused. Dressed in a tight blue-and-gold singlet, he pauses at the top of the ramp and offers a short, respectful bow. Then he begins a precise march toward the ring — no wasted motion, no flair. Just business.
Phillips: And there he is — the man who started all this. B.R. Ellis. He eliminated Jarvis Valentine from more than a match — he may have taken the UTA Championship right out from under him.
Bravo: Don’t forget — these two already met in the UTA tournament. Jarvis got the win. But Ellis wasn’t done. He made sure Jarvis never got another one.
Ellis climbs the ring steps, never taking his eyes off Jarvis. He enters between the ropes, cracks his knuckles, and slowly adjusts his knee pads. Jarvis doesn't flinch — just stares right through him, jaw tight.
Phillips: This is how we’re starting? With two men who genuinely want to beat each other down?
Bravo: This isn’t just a rumble, John. This is a powder keg. And the match hasn't even started.
The bell hasn’t rung yet. The referee tries to step between them — but both men brush him off. They each back into opposite corners, never breaking eye contact. The crowd is on their feet, chanting:
CROWD: LET! THEM! FIGHT!
Jarvis takes off his entrance jacket and tosses it to ringside. B.R. Ellis rolls his shoulders. The official checks both corners — and signals for the bell.
DING! DING! DING!
The Rumble has begun. Two men. No love lost. And 18 more waiting in the wings.
DING! DING! DING! The crowd is already on its feet as the first two men circle, emotions running hot and history hanging heavy. Jarvis Valentine clenches his fists. B.R. Ellis wipes his boot against the mat, classic amateur wrestling prep. And then —
They collide in the center with a thunderous tie-up, both pushing for dominance. Jarvis uses his size to muscle Ellis into the corner, but Ellis slips around with a Greco-Roman switch, locking in a rear waistlock. Valentine powers out with a sharp elbow to the side of the head and shoves Ellis away.
They reset — quick. Ellis comes in again with a snap suplex, but Jarvis rolls through and rises immediately. Ellis attempts a headlock takeover, but Jarvis blocks it and counters with a stiff back suplex that rattles the ring!
Phillips: It’s power versus precision in these early minutes — and both of these men know how badly a mistake could cost them.
Bravo: Ellis might be a technician, but Jarvis is a brawler with something to prove. And that combination’s lethal.
Jarvis yanks Ellis up and drills him with a short-arm clothesline, but Ellis rolls through and fires off a shoulder tackle to the gut. Jarvis stumbles to the ropes — Ellis grabs him for a gut-wrench lift, maybe teasing the Olympic Slam — but Jarvis pounds the back of his neck and breaks free.
The two men clash again, this time trading heavy strikes. Jarvis lands a discus clothesline that drops Ellis flat. The crowd gasps as Jarvis lifts Ellis up again, setting up the Patriot Plunge —
—but Ellis counters mid-lift into a slick arm drag! He transitions right into a Lockjaw Lock attempt — twisting Jarvis’s arm behind his back and wrenching it toward the mat!
Phillips: That Fujiwara armbar is dangerous this early — especially in a Rumble, where an injury means guaranteed elimination!
Jarvis scrambles, managing to reach the bottom rope out of instinct — but there’s no break in a Rumble! Ellis wrenches harder — but Jarvis powers out with raw strength, rolling him over and breaking the grip with a flurry of fists to the ribs!
Both men scramble to their feet, Jarvis holding his arm, Ellis nursing his ribs. They reset again, circling…
Suddenly, the crowd begins counting down—
CROWD: TEN! NINE! EIGHT!
They trade one more lock-up as the countdown continues, each trying to push the other toward the ropes…
CROWD: THREE! TWO! ONE!
Phillips: Here comes #3! And the momentum is about to shift! BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!! The countdown ends, and the arena plunges into darkness. For a split second, there’s eerie silence—then a blinding shower of white-hot sparks cascades from the stage. The metallic clang of hammer on steel echoes through the WrestleZone as a figure emerges through the smoke like a tank in human form.
Phillips: Oh no… business is about to pick up. That’s Gideon Graves — steel forged and pissed off!
Bravo: That man was raised in the belly of a blast furnace. And right now? Jarvis and Ellis are about to feel the heat.
Graves stomps his way down the ramp, each step measured and menacing. He pounds his right gauntlet with his hammer-like fist as he reaches the ring apron, then steps over the ropes with ease. His eyes are dead cold. No theatrics. Just violence.
Inside, Jarvis and Ellis immediately stop their grappling and turn toward the new threat. For one tense moment… a truce forms between them.
Phillips: That’s a rare alliance — the enemy of my enemy, and all that — but Graves might just flatten them both anyway.
They charge him together! Jarvis with a discus clothesline, Ellis with a flying forearm — but Gideon doesn’t budge. He plants his boots and double clotheslines them both to the mat like fallen scaffolding!
Ellis is back up first — he charges again — Big Boot! Graves nearly takes his head off. Jarvis runs the ropes — Graves catches him mid-air with a massive pendulum backbreaker! The sound is sickening.
Bravo: That man doesn’t hit you — he rebuilds your spine from scratch!
Graves lifts Ellis off the mat like he weighs nothing and hurls him into the corner. He charges in — Corner Lariat! The ring buckles. Ellis drops to his knees, gasping.
Graves stalks Jarvis now, dragging him up by the arm. He hoists him with ease into a Gorilla-Press Slam and tosses him like a sack of cement! Jarvis crashes to the canvas, rolling near the ropes.
Phillips: Gideon Graves has taken over this ring. Everyone else is just collateral!
Ellis, somehow, pulls himself up using the ropes. Graves turns, eyes narrowing. He stalks toward Ellis, jaw clenched — then drags him away from the ropes and sets him up—
Steam Hammer! A thunderous jumping knee drop to the ribs! Ellis convulses in pain. Graves stands over him, breathing slow and steady like a predator.
Jarvis rolls to his feet and tries a surprise Running Bulldog — but Graves shrugs him off mid-air like a gnat. Jarvis hits the mat and immediately clutches his shoulder.
Bravo: Jarvis and Ellis might be technical masterminds… but none of that matters when a brick wall decides to hit back.
All three men are still in — but two are on the mat. Graves stands tall in the center of the ring, fists clenched, daring someone to come for him. The crowd counts again—
CROWD: TEN! NINE! EIGHT!
Ellis crawls toward the corner. Jarvis pulls himself up on the ropes. Graves cracks his knuckles… and smiles. Just barely.
CROWD: THREE! TWO! ONE! Phillips: Who’s drawing number four? Whoever it is, they better bring reinforcements! BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!! The crowd buzzes as crimson strobes slash through the arena. A distorted wolf howl rips through the speakers, low and guttural. From the curtain emerges a man cloaked in sinister calm — Magnus Wolfe, tracing the jagged scar over his right brow with a twisted smirk.
Phillips: Oh no… that’s Magnus Wolfe. One-half of the Iron Dominion. And if Gideon Graves was a problem before… this just became two.
Bravo: The monster and the mastermind, John. Graves is the blunt force. Wolfe is the scalpel. Together? Pain isn’t just coming — it’s precision-engineered.
Magnus makes his way to the ring like a hunter on the prowl — not a sprint, but a strut. Confident. Cold. Calculating. He eyes the ring, locking eyes with Gideon for just a beat. No nod. No signal. But the chemistry is immediate.
Jarvis Valentine pulls himself up just as Wolfe slides into the ring. The second Jarvis turns — KNEE LIFT TO THE JAW! Wolfe flattens him with surgical accuracy!
Ellis rises in the opposite corner — only for Graves to grab him by the throat and drive him back-first into the turnbuckles. He hoists him up — Snake Eyes to the middle rope! Ellis gasps as he slumps over the middle strand.
Magnus Wolfe zeroes in and snaps Ellis down with a Single-Arm DDT, wrenching the shoulder with glee. He grabs Ellis’s wrist and bends it backward until the ref begins to warn him — not that Magnus cares.
Phillips: It’s an Iron Dominion dissection right now. They’re not just double-teaming — they’re engineering damage.
Wolfe peels Jarvis off the mat and dragon screws the leg hard, keeping him grounded. Then he drags him to the ropes, drapes Jarvis’s neck over the second rope — and hits a Guillotine Drop from the apron!
Meanwhile, Graves Gorilla Presses Ellis — not to eliminate him, just to toss him across the ring like trash. Ellis crashes hard, rolling clutching his back.
Bravo: This isn’t strategy anymore — it’s domination. Two men controlling the ring, the pace, and the pain.
Magnus rolls back in and both he and Gideon stand center-ring. The crowd boos loud — and they love it. Wolfe flashes a sick smirk. Graves? Just clenches his fists. Their body language screams: “Come try us.”
Jarvis crawls toward the corner. Ellis tries to use the ropes to get up. Iron Dominion doesn’t rush — they stalk, slowly surrounding both men.
Phillips: No eliminations yet — but if someone doesn’t come out and shift this tide, we might not get to six survivors tonight.
The crowd begins to count again, desperate for a new variable to break the Dominion’s grip—
CROWD: TEN! NINE! EIGHT!
Magnus stomps Ellis’s hand as he reaches for the ropes. Graves yanks Jarvis up by the throat again.
CROWD: THREE! TWO! ONE!
Bravo: The field’s crying out for a hero. Let’s see who’s brave — or dumb — enough to step into this den.
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!! The crowd quiets slightly as the arena lights flicker gold — and then...
“Thunderstruck” by AC/DC roars through the speakers, guitar riffs slicing through the air like lightning. On the tron in bold gold letters: MARK BRAVO.
Phillips (confused): Wait—what?! What is—what is this?!
The crowd erupts in a mix of shock and celebration as the camera swings to the commentary table, where Mark Bravo has already stood up and removed his headset.
Bravo (grinning): That’s right, baby! I drew #5! They told me I wasn’t cleared, but I cleared myself!
He throws off his headset, starts unbuttoning his commentary jacket to reveal a gold-and-navy athletic shirt beneath — complete with his initials embroidered on the chest. The crowd roars louder.
Phillips: Wait a minute, you can’t just—Mark! What?! This wasn’t in the rundown!
Mark Bravo slaps hands with fans along the barricade as he marches toward the ring. He hops up onto the apron and looks directly at Gideon Graves and Magnus Wolfe — both of whom look mildly amused — before sliding in dramatically and pounding his chest.
Bravo (shouting): LET’S DANCE, YOU IRON IDIOTS!
The fans love it — chants of “BRA-VO! BRA-VO!” fill the air. But it doesn’t last long.
Gideon Graves steps forward — BIG BOOT right to Bravo’s jaw! Mark flips inside out and lands hard. He tries to crawl back up — Magnus Wolfe grabs him from behind, hooks the arms — PREDATOR PLEX! Into the corner with brutal velocity!
Phillips: Oh my God—Bravo might be dead!
The Iron Dominion share a glance. Graves grabs Bravo by the legs — Wolfe takes the arms — and together they launch him up and over the top rope with a double military press to the floor!
Ring Announcer: Mark Bravo has been eliminated!
The crowd gives a standing ovation nonetheless as Bravo groans and clutches his ribs at ringside.
Phillips (amused): Well that was… short.
Bravo slowly crawls back to the commentary desk as the match continues in the ring. Jarvis Valentine tries to blindside Gideon, only to get caught and thrown back with an overhead belly-to-belly. Ellis is dragged into the corner by Wolfe, who begins delivering a flurry of corner knees to the ribs.
Back at commentary, Bravo slumps into his seat, headset halfway on, winded but smiling.
Bravo (panting): I’m fine. I’m good. I loosened Graves up for the rest of ‘em. That was the plan.
Phillips: You lasted all of what, twenty-five seconds?!
Bravo: It’s quality, not quantity, Johnny. Did you see that ovation? Did you hear the crowd? That’s what you call a pop.
Phillips (laughing): That was less “pop” and more “splat.”
In the ring, Wolfe attempts to toss Ellis over — but the technician skins the cat and hooks the bottom rope, hanging on for dear life. Jarvis nails Wolfe from behind with a running bulldog to even the field.
CROWD: TEN! NINE! EIGHT!
Bravo grabs a bottle of water, downs it, and throws it over his shoulder with theatrical flair.
Bravo: Round two might be coming. They need me out there. You’ll see.
Phillips: Let’s hope they don’t draw your name again, because I’m not carrying this booth alone all night.
CROWD: THREE! TWO! ONE!
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!
The match rolls on. Four men remain in the ring. Graves. Wolfe. Valentine. Ellis. And another is on the way.
The lights shift into a flurry of flashing red and white strobes, perfectly synchronized to a pounding Latin EDM beat. A driving synth line kicks in—and out bursts Tyler Cruz from the curtain, spinning on one foot before launching into a handspring right on the stage.
Phillips: Hold onto your hats — here comes one half of Velocity Vanguard! That’s Tyler Cruz, and this ring is about to get a lot faster!
Bravo: I hope Iron Dominion packed motion sickness pills — because Cruz brings speed, style, and high-altitude headaches.
Tyler dances down the ramp with a grin that radiates confidence, clapping along with the crowd rhythm as he slaps hands on both sides. He hits the apron, springboards over the top rope in a graceful front flip, and lands on his feet in the center with a showman's flourish. The fans cheer loudly, excited by the change in tempo.
In the ring, Graves and Wolfe freeze — their last memory of Velocity Vanguard wasn't flattering, despite the win. They exchange a brief glance, then begin closing in.
Tyler leaps into action — ducking a swing from Magnus, rebounding off the ropes, and nailing a rope-skip enzuigiri that catches Wolfe flush on the temple! Magnus stumbles to a knee!
Graves moves to crush Cruz with a lariat, but Cruz drops low, then backflips into a stunning dropkick that pops the crowd. Graves takes a step back — surprised, but not shaken. Tyler charges and leaps up — tilt-a-whirl headscissors! Graves is spun off balance and tumbles to the mat!
Phillips: Tyler Cruz just turned the tide of this match in seconds! His momentum is pure lightning!
Bravo: He’s like if a pinball machine had a personality — and wings!
Meanwhile, Jarvis Valentine and B.R. Ellis are back on their feet and taking the opportunity to regroup. Ellis goes after Magnus Wolfe, yanking him into a German suplex with a tight bridge — though eliminations don’t happen by pin, it plants Wolfe firmly to the canvas. Jarvis stalks Graves with a methodical pace, nailing him with a discus clothesline the moment he gets back to a vertical base.
Tyler Cruz, never one to stay still, scales the turnbuckles in one swift motion and launches into a Rocket Burst — a twisting tornillo corkscrew into the crowd of bodies below! Everyone drops like bowling pins as the fans leap to their feet in awe.
Phillips: Tyler Cruz just turned himself into a human comet! That’s what this Rumble needs — unpredictability!
The crowd is electric as all five men are down, slowly crawling, struggling to regain their footing. Cruz is the first up, rallying the crowd with rhythmic clapping. “LET’S GO CRUZ!” chants break out across The WrestleZone.
Magnus rolls to his feet, glaring. Cruz throws him a wink. Wolfe lunges — Cruz springboards backward off his chest and lands behind him! He attempts a Pop-up Rana — Wolfe blocks! But before Magnus can counter, Ellis dropkicks Wolfe in the back, allowing Cruz to complete the spin!
Bravo: Even when he's blocked, Cruz finds a way! The kid’s an acrobat with a backup plan!
Jarvis hits the corner and lines up Graves — Running Bulldog! He plants the Iron Dominion powerhouse into the mat just as the crowd begins to countdown again.
CROWD: TEN! NINE! EIGHT!
Wolfe and Graves regroup near the ropes, eyes flicking between the other three. Cruz, Ellis, and Jarvis each standing tall in opposite corners. The ring now split — battle lines drawn. Iron Dominion vs everyone else.
CROWD: THREE! TWO! ONE!
BUZZZZZZZZZZ!!!
Phillips: Who’s next to enter this rising storm?!
The lights shimmer unnaturally — not quite flashing, but warping, flickering like heatwaves over a desert road. A low, haunting violin sting warps in the air as the crowd quiets in eerie curiosity. From the shadows of the entrance curtain steps a figure in deep violet and black: Kael Mercer.
Wearing a crushed velvet mask, Mercer doesn’t march or strut — he glides. Calm, deliberate. The mask conceals his smirk until he reaches the ramp, where he theatrically peels it off and locks eyes with the ring. Then, in a flash of motion, he pulls a card from behind his ear and flicks it toward the camera before pointing at the ring like he just predicted a victim's fate.
Phillips: And the enigma enters the storm! Kael Mercer — magician, illusionist, psychological saboteur. I don’t know what he has planned, but you can be sure it’ll be two steps ahead of whatever anyone else is thinking.
Bravo: I’ve seen this guy trick three people into pinning each other at once. Don’t ask me how. Kael Mercer doesn’t just wrestle — he orchestrates confusion.
Mercer slides under the bottom rope, slowly standing as chaos unfolds around him. He doesn’t immediately engage. He just… smiles.
Across the ring, Tyler Cruz is clapping with the fans again, revving them up for another burst of offense. Ellis has Magnus Wolfe in a headlock, while Jarvis Valentine tries to fend off a revived Gideon Graves with clubbing forearms to the back.
Mercer paces like a chessmaster surveying the board, then strikes — rushing toward Ellis and feinting a lock-up before pulling him into a Sleight of Pain DDT! Ellis’s head bounces off the mat and Mercer backs away, flicking imaginary dust from his shoulder.
He turns and ghosts behind Cruz, raising his hands theatrically — and lands a Ghost Hand fake palm strike into a jaw kick before Cruz even senses danger. The crowd lets out a gasp at Mercer’s seamless deception.
Phillips: Mercer doesn’t just hit you — he makes you question your reality before he does it. Look at that precision!
Bravo: Cruz just blinked and found out he was already knocked down. That’s Mercer magic.
Gideon Graves tries to grab Mercer, but Kael ducks, rolls, and suddenly feigns a limp. Graves pauses—confused—and BAM! Mercer springs forward with the Misdirection Knee right to the jaw! The crowd gasps as the big man reels!
Magnus Wolfe rushes in for revenge — but Cruz intercepts with a back-flip dropkick from out of nowhere, staggering him back! Jarvis launches into the fray with a Neckbreaker Slam to Wolfe, while Ellis rolls over and starts rising again, dazed but still alive in the match.
All seven men now move in pairs and flurries — Iron Dominion regrouping, Cruz darting like a firefly, Mercer dancing through danger, Ellis targeting Wolfe’s arm with methodical holds, and Jarvis pushing Graves toward the ropes with hard shoulder drives.
Phillips: We’ve got a field loaded with different styles — powerhouses, tacticians, high-flyers, and the master of misdirection himself.
Bravo: Eight men still in, and every one of them wants that golden ticket to WrestleUTA: 25. But more than that — they don’t want to be number seven out.
The crowd begins the countdown again, the energy at a fever pitch as all eight continue battling in a ballet of chaos.
CROWD: TEN! NINE! EIGHT!
Kael Mercer ducks a Wolfe lariat and trap-door slams him spine-first to the mat — then bows theatrically toward the hard cam.
CROWD: THREE! TWO! ONE!
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!
Phillips: Who’s next to roll the dice in this brutal game of survival?
Gold spotlights strobe and dance across the arena, drawing the eyes of every fan in the building toward the entrance stage. Suddenly, an over-the-top, cinematic beat drops — a fusion of glam rock and synthetic strings. The camera pans up dramatically just as RICO VANCE struts through the curtain, mirror in hand, smug grin on full display.
He stops halfway down the ramp, checks his reflection, adjusts a single strand of hair, then mouths to the camera: “I was born for this.”
Phillips: And here comes Rico Vance, a man who treats every entrance like an Emmy-worthy monologue.
Bravo: The man has star power, Phillips. He could wrestle, model, host a game show, and walk a red carpet — all at once.
Rico climbs onto the apron, wipes his boots — twice — and slingshots himself gracefully into the ring, landing in a picture-perfect pose at center ring, arms wide, head tilted back like he’s basking in imaginary spotlights.
But that spotlight doesn’t last long. Jarvis Valentine charges in, aiming for a clothesline — but Rico ducks and pops up with a leaping lariat that drops the veteran! Vance immediately kips up and blows a kiss to the camera.
Bravo: That’s what we call camera chemistry, baby!
Elsewhere in the ring, Kael Mercer is backing Cruz into a corner with sharp feint jabs and a sudden Smoke & Mirrors springboard enzuigiri. Magnus Wolfe yanks Mercer away and whips him into the ropes, but Mercer twists mid-run and rebounds into a Trap Door Slam that puts Wolfe on the mat again.
Gideon Graves is now pounding on B.R Ellis in the corner, using shoulder thrusts to wear down the technician. Ellis, wincing, spins out and delivers a counter German Suplex — the crowd popping as Graves is lifted clean off his feet!
Meanwhile, Tyler Cruz is springboarding between ropes, catching Rico Vance with a rope-skip enzuigiri! Rico staggers but doesn’t fall — instead, he rebounds off the ropes and nails Cruz with the Flash Frame, a sudden flying forearm that sends the luchador sprawling!
Phillips: Rico Vance isn’t just flash — there’s fire behind that flair.
Bravo: The man may come in mirrors, but his elbows are diamond-cut deadly.
Kael Mercer and Rico Vance now circle each other, two theatrical showmen in very different genres — Mercer, the shadowy illusionist; Vance, the daytime spotlight. They tie up, and Mercer fakes a leg trip, only for Vance to slip behind with a Russian Leg Sweep and pose again as Mercer rolls away, fuming.
The center of the ring now fills with clashing styles — Wolfe and Graves regroup, moving as one against Jarvis and Ellis. Tyler Cruz springboards into the fray with a pop-up rana that takes down Wolfe momentarily, while Mercer slithers back into the chaos from the outside rope.
Rico spots his opening and climbs the second rope, launching into a Primetime Cutter on Ellis! But Ellis shoves him mid-air and lands awkwardly — no elimination, but the impact rattles the ring!
Phillips: We’re nearing the halfway mark, and the ring is overflowing with potential Ace in the Hole contenders — but only six can punch their ticket to WrestleUTA: 25.
Bravo: And only one gets the mysterious advantage. I’m telling you, Phillips — it’s gotta be a jetpack.
The crowd begins to rumble as the timer lights up again overhead. Every fan’s voice rising as fists fly inside the ring.
CROWD: TEN! NINE! EIGHT!
Jarvis Valentine and Graves lock horns in the corner, while Wolfe stumbles toward Mercer, who just grins.
CROWD: THREE! TWO! ONE!
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!
Phillips: Who’s stepping into this powder keg next? We’re due for another game-changer!
The lights pulse a vibrant electric blue as a burst of CO₂ jets up from both sides of the entrance ramp. Without missing a beat, JET LAWSON explodes through the fog at top speed, flipping forward into a handspring and landing clean on his feet at the top of the ramp. The crowd pops loud as the other half of Velocity Vanguard makes his way to the ring!
Phillips: And here comes Jet Lawson! Tyler Cruz isn’t alone anymore — Velocity Vanguard is at full strength!
Bravo: And Iron Dominion better watch out. We’ve seen these two tear it up before — they don’t just move fast, they hit hard.
Jet sprints down the ramp, leaps into a flawless springboard off the second rope, and lands a corkscrew roll onto his feet inside the ring, immediately popping to the corner where Tyler Cruz has just dodged a charging Gideon Graves.
Without a word, Cruz claps once — and Jet nods. It’s on.
Magnus Wolfe lunges in, but Cruz drop-toeholds him straight into Jet, who follows up with a running sling blade that flattens Wolfe! The crowd roars!
Graves tries to recover, stepping forward with a big boot aimed at Cruz, but Cruz rolls under it and springboards off the middle rope into a spinning kick that staggers the steel brute. Jet climbs to the top rope — fast — and leaps into a Skyline Spiral, the corkscrew body press landing flush on Graves!
Phillips: Graves just got grounded! Velocity Vanguard’s timing is uncanny!
Bravo: Like synchronized chaos! It’s beautiful. It’s violent ballet!
Cruz kips up and yells to the crowd, who claps along. Jet charges the far ropes, rebounds, and Cruz launches him with a pop-up assist — Jet spins mid-air and hits a rope-walk dropkick — the Comet Crash — right into Magnus Wolfe’s face!
Wolfe collapses to a knee, dazed. Graves tries to rise as well, but the high-octane tag team hits a double springboard missile dropkick, sending both members of Iron Dominion staggering into opposite corners.
Meanwhile, the rest of the ring is catching their breath from the high-flying chaos. Kael Mercer and Rico Vance both hang low near the ropes. B.R Ellis resets near the turnbuckle. Jarvis Valentine watches with a calculating eye as Cruz and Jet fire up the crowd.
Phillips: This Rumble just got flipped into another gear! Velocity Vanguard is flying high and taking names!
Bravo: I don’t know who has the advantage anymore — but I do know whoever drew the next number has to enter a war zone.
Jet points to the sky, and Cruz gives a sly nod. The fans are on their feet, chanting “V-V! V-V!” as the countdown clock blinks back to life.
CROWD: TEN! NINE! EIGHT!
Graves wipes his jaw, furious. Wolfe snarls, rubbing the side of his head. Both clearly rattled by the speed and synergy of Velocity Vanguard.
CROWD: THREE! TWO! ONE!
Phillips: The Rumble rages on — who’s next to join the mayhem?!
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!
The beat of a New Orleans second line blares through the arena as vibrant teal and purple lights dance across the WrestleZone. A triumphant brass band fanfare kicks in as CARTER DURANT explodes onto the stage, bursting through the curtain with a full sprint and infectious energy.
Phillips: It’s Carter Durant! The Crescent City’s own! A lightning bolt of charisma and pure athleticism — and he’s entering a Rumble that’s already on fire!
Bravo: The guy moves like he’s running a 100-meter dash every second he’s in the ring. You blink and he’s behind you.
Carter slaps hands with fans as he charges the ring full speed, slides under the ropes, and instantly pops up into a springboard enzuigiri — catching Rico Vance in the jaw!
Kael Mercer ducks a clothesline and tries to feint Carter, but Durant vaults off the ropes with a rope-spring armdrag, flipping Mercer halfway across the ring!
Meanwhile, Jet Lawson and Tyler Cruz are back-to-back fending off the Iron Dominion. Gideon Graves attempts to bull through them with a corner lariat, but Jet leapfrogs over him as Cruz hits a pop-up rana on Magnus Wolfe. The crowd is roaring!
Phillips: This is chaos — but it’s the kind of chaos UTA thrives on!
Bravo: I don’t even know where to look anymore — it’s like a lucha carnival smashed into a demolition derby!
Carter Durant steps into frame again — this time springboarding off the second rope into a 450 splash that levels Jet and Rico Vance both in a pile! The crowd gasps, then erupts!
In the opposite corner, Jarvis Valentine and B.R Ellis are circling again. There’s history here — thick tension. Jarvis lunges in with a shoulder block, but Ellis counters with a snap suplex, transitioning smoothly into an armbar. Classic technician work.
Phillips: These two met in the UTA Championship tournament — and then Ellis made sure Jarvis didn’t win the gold. You have to imagine Jarvis has had that burning in the back of his mind ever since.
Ellis keeps the arm wrung, but Jarvis muscles out, whips Ellis to the ropes — and BLINDSIDES HIM with a spinning back elbow! The crowd gasps!
Jarvis eyes the ropes. Then… he grabs Ellis by the back of the head.
Phillips: Wait a minute—
WHAM! With a surge of grit and fire, Jarvis Valentine hurls B.R Ellis over the top rope!
Phillips: HE’S GOT HIM! ELLIS IS OUT!
Bravo: WHOA! That’s a message if I’ve ever seen one!
The crowd is stunned — half cheering, half gasping. Ellis sits on the outside mat, stunned, breathing hard. Jarvis leans over the ropes, glaring down at him. No words — just a cold stare.
Phillips: Valentine just eliminated the man who cost him everything. You don’t forget betrayal — not when the gold’s on the line.
Bravo: You know Ellis won’t forget this either. That fuse is still lit, and the explosion might not be over.
Back in the ring, Velocity Vanguard and Carter Durant stand tall while Iron Dominion recovers in the corner. Kael Mercer smirks at the camera, dusting himself off. Rico Vance poses with his back to the action — which may be a mistake. The Rumble continues as the next countdown begins…
CROWD: TEN! NINE! EIGHT!
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!
The arena goes dead silent for half a second—
BOOM! Flames erupt from both sides of the stage as a deep bass hits, shaking the WrestleZone to its core. A Gregorian-style choir chant rumbles through the speakers. From the golden mist and smoke steps a mountain of a man clad in glimmering golden gladiator armor.
TITAN REX raises one hand skyward, flexing slowly, then slams it down in front of him as the fire bursts again.
Phillips: Uh-oh. Things are about to change — drastically.
Bravo: Everyone in that ring just got a death sentence. Titan Rex has entered the Rumble. May the gods have mercy.
Rex strides to the ring like a conqueror entering a battlefield he already owns. He removes the golden armor at ringside, revealing a statuesque frame — all sinew and fury. He climbs the steps with cold focus, steps over the top rope, and the moment he enters—
Chaos.
Jet Lawson charges first — springboarding off the ropes, but Rex catches him mid-air like he weighs nothing, spins, and launches him with a brutal overhead belly-to-belly that sends Jet crashing to the mat like a ragdoll.
Tyler Cruz rushes in next, attempting a running enzuigiri, but Rex sidesteps and levels him with a massive big boot that sends Cruz flipping inside out!
Phillips: OH MY—Cruz got decapitated!
Jet tries to pull himself up again — but Rex grabs both members of Velocity Vanguard by the throats — hoists them — and spine-shattering sit-out double powerbomb! He stands… poses… and then grabs Jet first, hurling him over the top rope!
Tyler Cruz staggers up next, and Rex charges forward like a freight train, sending Cruz flying over the top with a running shoulder block!
Bravo: Velocity Vanguard just got VAPORIZED!
Phillips: They lit this ring on fire earlier, but Titan Rex just snuffed it out like a storm on a candle!
From the side, Carter Durant tries to dive off the top rope — but Rex catches him mid-air and military press slams him straight into Rico Vance!
Both men roll to their knees — dazed — only for Rex to grab Durant and choke-lift him into the Rex Lift — a monstrous sit-out powerbomb that echoes through the WrestleZone!
He doesn’t even rest — grabs Carter Durant and throws him over the top rope! Three down!
Rico Vance stumbles, posing to the crowd, completely unaware. Rex steps in behind him, taps him on the shoulder. Vance turns—
Phillips: Oh no.
BAM! Sidewalk Slam! Vance is folded in half! Rex scoops him up by the tights and hurls him over the top rope like yesterday’s garbage.
Bravo: That’s five! Five eliminations in under ninety seconds! He’s a damn machine!
Gideon Graves stands now — the brute of Iron Dominion — and roars in defiance. He charges at Rex with a corner lariat, but Rex doesn’t move. Rex grabs him around the waist, and with unholy strength, suplexes Graves clean over his head and into the turnbuckles!
Stunned, Graves pulls himself up — and Rex clotheslines him clean over the top rope!
Phillips: SIX! That’s SIX MEN gone by Titan Rex!
The crowd erupts in a mix of awe and disbelief. Inside the ring, Magnus Wolfe backs into a corner, eyes wide. Kael Mercer watches like a predator awaiting an opening. Jarvis Valentine lowers his stance. Jet and Cruz are gone. Carter’s out. Rico’s vanished. Gideon — gone.
And now… it’s everyone else vs. the golden monster.
Kael Mercer strikes first with a feint and an elbow to the jaw. Magnus Wolfe joins in with a flurry of corner knees. Jarvis Valentine follows with a running dropkick to Rex’s leg. The trio swarm him like hyenas, doing everything they can to ground the behemoth.
Bravo: It’s gonna take everything and everyone to stop Titan Rex. And I still don’t think it’s enough!
Phillips: Rex just cleared half the field — and he’s still standing. But the next entrant is about to hit — and whoever it is, they’d better come ready for WAR.
CROWD: TEN! NINE! EIGHT!
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!
The lights instantly cut to black. The WrestleZone hushes again — not in awe, but in something colder. A slow, echoing bell tolls... once… twice… three times… and from the smoke-covered stage, a figure begins to emerge.
Silas Grimm walks with eerie stillness beneath a pale spotlight, draped in a tattered black hood and a half-mask obscuring his sneer. The smoke curls around him like a waking spirit. At the foot of the ramp, he slowly removes the mask, staring blankly toward the ring — toward the beast inside it.
Phillips: And the mood has... changed.
Bravo: This guy creeps me out, Phillips. Like… what happens when you lock a haunted house inside a human being? That’s Silas Grimm.
Grimm slithers under the bottom rope, eyes never leaving the chaos in front of him — where Titan Rex is still fending off Jarvis Valentine, Kael Mercer, and Magnus Wolfe like a dragon swatting swords.
But then—Grimm joins in.
Strike to the thigh. A precise dragon screw leg whip takes Titan Rex off-balance. He roars — wounded, but furious.
Kael Mercer follows with a Trap Door Slam — spinning spinebuster that briefly dizzies the behemoth. Jarvis Valentine delivers a discus clothesline that knocks Rex into the corner. Wolfe smashes his knee into Rex’s jaw with a flurry!
Grimm tilts his head in that disturbing fashion, then lunges in with a barrage of palm strikes — sharp, precise, aimed at the throat and sternum. Rex stumbles… and the crowd stands!
Phillips: They’ve got him rocking — this might be it!
Bravo: Look at all of them — working like wolves to take down the lion. And the lion’s finally bleeding!
Jarvis and Magnus grab one arm each. Kael and Grimm seize the legs. The crowd counts along—
CROWD: ONE! TWO! THREE!
They push Titan Rex against the ropes — he tries to resist, roars in defiance, but the combined force of five men is too much —
Jarvis gets low and lifts the legs as Kael and Wolfe tip the torso—
Phillips: THEY’VE GOT HIM!
Rex's feet leave the mat! Grimm surges forward, a rolling elbow to the ribs that knocks Rex off-balance for good—
OVER THE TOP!
TITAN REX IS ELIMINATED!
CROWD: HOLY SHT! HOLY SHT! HOLY SHT!*
Phillips: They did it! It took five top-tier competitors just to move him, but Titan Rex — the wrecking machine — has been dumped from the Rumble!
Bravo: He eliminated six people by himself. And it took every ounce of timing, strategy, and violence to get him out!
Rex lands on his feet at ringside. He stares daggers into the ring, silent and seething. He doesn’t throw a tantrum. He simply stands… nods slowly… and walks back up the ramp. A warning in his posture.
Phillips: Titan Rex may be out… but he ain’t done. Not by a long shot.
Bravo: The Ace in the Hole just got real interesting. And with Rex gone… who's going to step up and fill that power vacuum?
The survivors exchange glances—Jarvis, Mercer, Wolfe, Grimm—suddenly all allies no more.
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!
Phillips: And here comes the next entrant!
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!
The arena dims to a deep, ritualistic gloom. A creeping fog slides across the rampway as chants fill the WrestleZone. The screen pulses with a crimson symbol — a cracked circle enclosing a vertical slash. Malachi Cross emerges from the mist, arms crossed over his chest like a stone effigy, his face locked in solemn stillness.
Phillips: That is a man who walks like the reaper hired him by commission.
Bravo: I don’t know if Malachi Cross believes in God or if he thinks he is one… but either way, someone’s about to suffer.
Malachi steps slowly down the ramp, unmoved by the chaos in the ring. He slides in, uncrossing his arms only when he reaches the center. He turns—
Kael Mercer charges him immediately—
—and gets caught. Dark Harvest! Malachi hoists him and drops him over the knee with that devastating sidewalk slam variation. Mercer arches in pain. No delay—Malachi grabs a fistful of gear, hauls Kael up like luggage, and in one smooth pivot, dumps him over the top rope!
KAEL MERCER IS ELIMINATED!
Phillips: That didn’t take long. The preacher of punishment makes an immediate impact!
Bravo: You blink against Malachi, you pay penance. Mercer just got excommunicated.
Magnus Wolfe tries to intercept with a corner knee-smash flurry—but Malachi steps out of the way like a phantom, then blasts Wolfe with a Yakuza Kick that folds him up in the turnbuckles!
Grimm moves in, grabbing Wolfe’s legs from underneath. Malachi takes the arms. The two men lift together—heave—and Wolfe is launched over the top rope!
MAGNUS WOLFE IS ELIMINATED!
Phillips: Just like that—Iron Dominion is out! Gideon earlier, now Magnus. That’s a huge shift!
Bravo: And the man who caused it? Walked in like a sermon and left bodies in his wake.
Malachi turns, arms crossed again, and retreats into the shadows of a corner. The ring breathes tension again as we await the next arrival—
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!
Phillips: More danger incoming… who’s next in the Rumble at the WrestleZone?!
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!
The lights strobe violently red as sirens blare through the WrestleZone. Static flashes across the screen. Then—
CRASH!! Punk rock hits as Maxx Mayhem bursts out from behind the curtain, swinging a dented trash lid over his head and laughing like a man unhinged. He points at the ring, licks the camera, then sprints full speed down the ramp.
Phillips: Well... this just got dangerous.
Bravo: Dangerous? This dude eats tacks for breakfast and flosses with barbed wire. And that’s just on weekdays!
Maxx launches himself under the bottom rope and swings the lid at Malachi Cross, who ducks and counters with a heavy knee to the gut. Grimm tries to pounce, but Maxx whips the trash lid back behind him blindly — CRACK! — it clips Grimm across the temple!
Jarvis Valentine lunges at him—Maxx drop-toe holds him into the corner, then charges in with a cannonball that takes Jarvis off his feet!
Phillips: He’s turned the ring into a riot! Maxx Mayhem is chaos incarnate!
Bravo: He doesn’t even care who he hits — just that it hurts and looks cool on the replay!
Grimm stumbles back to his feet, only to eat a swinging neckbreaker from Maxx. The Detroit brawler scrambles up a turnbuckle and comes crashing down with a flying senton across Malachi!
The crowd roars as Maxx springs up, slapping his own head, trash lid raised high again. The rest of the field tries to shake off the sudden whirlwind as the countdown begins once more.
Phillips: He’s a one-man demolition squad, but the ring’s about to get even more crowded!
Bravo: Get ready to duck, cover, or fight — because we’re far from done!
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!
Phillips: Here comes the next entrant!
The countdown ends and silence follows.
Five seconds pass. The arena lights dim to a pure white spotlight at the stage. Then—
A slow orchestral swell begins to build as Graham Keel steps through the curtain with surgical calm. No pandering. No pageantry. Just a laser-focused gaze as he marches toward the chaos.
Phillips: Business is about to pick up… technically speaking.
Bravo: You want flips? He won’t give 'em. You want flash? Forget it. Graham Keel’s the type of guy who wins matches with a headlock and a death stare.
Keel slides in slowly, scanning the bodies around him. Jarvis Valentine is trading strikes with Maxx Mayhem in one corner. Silas Grimm has Malachi Cross in a neck crank near the ropes.
Keel stalks behind Grimm, snags his wrist, and pulls him into a crisp backbreaker across the knee. He’s methodical, immediately targeting the arm and driving his knee into Grimm’s shoulder.
Maxx charges in, swinging the trash lid again—Keel ducks fluidly, counters with a kneeling armbreaker, and pops right back to his feet without expression.
Phillips: Graham Keel doesn't waste movement — or time. He's dissecting people already!
Bravo: He’s the kind of guy that turns a headlock into a crime scene. And with fresh bodies in there, he’s got a buffet of joints to target.
Keel squares off with Malachi Cross, the two locking up in a stiff collar-and-elbow. Cross tries to muscle him into the corner—but Keel hooks the arm, turns it, and transitions into a standing wrist clutch.
Meanwhile, Maxx and Jarvis brawl like old rivals while Grimm tries to shake off the punishment. No eliminations… but the field is crowded, and momentum is shifting.
Phillips: One of the most stacked stretches of the match so far… and there’s still more to come!
Bravo: Who’s next? Who survives? Who’s even breathing in there?
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!
Phillips: And the next competitor enters the Rumble at the WrestleZone!
Wind machines kick up at the stage. A sudden blast of air swirls across the entranceway—
—and Aaron Shaffer explodes through the curtain like a living tornado! Hair flying, arms wide, the WrestleZone Champion barrels toward the ring, leaping onto the apron and slinging himself over the top rope with a spinning vault.
Phillips: There he is! The pride of Orlando — the reigning WrestleZone Champion — and he's moving like a storm on two feet!
Bravo: He’s got the belt, he’s got the fans, and now he’s got his shot to make this Rumble his runway!
Shaffer wastes zero time. A springboard dropkick takes Silas Grimm off his feet. Maxx Mayhem charges, and Shaffer ducks low, handspringing off the ropes into a twisting body press!
Jarvis Valentine steps in—Shaffer spins, catches him with a Cyclone Clothesline, then kips up with a roar.
Malachi Cross rises near the ropes, but Graham Keel grabs him from behind—a textbook Butterfly Suplex into the ropes! Cross staggers… Shaffer sprints—
STORMBREAKER!!! A lightning-quick spinning slam sends Cross crumpling against the ropes!
Keel steps in, grabs a leg—Shaffer grabs the other—
And with a synchronized shove—
MALACHI CROSS IS ELIMINATED!
Phillips: Beautiful teamwork, if only temporary — Aaron Shaffer and Graham Keel just sent Malachi to the floor!
Bravo: One second you're choking people out, the next you're airmailed back to New Orleans. This match waits for nobody.
Shaffer and Keel exchange a brief nod — respectful, cautious. Around them, the chaos surges on. Grimm shakes off the cobwebs. Maxx Mayhem is swinging wildly again. Jarvis Valentine eyes Shaffer across the ring… a storm brewing between champions.
Phillips: Two champions now share the same space. Something’s got to give!
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!
Bravo: The next Rumble entrant’s on the way — and this ring’s running out of room and mercy!
The arena dims once again. Fog begins to ooze from the stage like something out of a nightmare. An eerie flute melody plays — slow, hypnotic… unsettling.
Through the swirling mist, El Fantasma Oscuro emerges like a specter made flesh. His mask is skeletal, his stare unbroken, his movement smooth and unnatural. The crowd falls into an odd hush as he glides down the ramp without a single wasted motion.
Phillips: The most mysterious man in this match has arrived. El Fantasma Oscuro… and I swear, every time he shows up, the air feels colder.
Bravo: I don’t know where he came from, Phillips. I don’t know how he wrestles like that. I just know he makes me deeply uncomfortable.
Fantasma reaches the apron and doesn’t climb in. He vanishes beneath the ropes — and reappears on the top turnbuckle in a single motion. Like a ghost in motion, he springboards off—
Corkscrew Plancha onto Silas Grimm and Maxx Mayhem! The ring erupts!
Before anyone can grab him, Fantasma rolls under the ropes again and pops up behind Aaron Shaffer — low dropkick to the back of the knees! Shaffer drops to one knee, surprised!
Fantasma fades back into a corner. His eyes never leave the action, head tilting slowly, calculating. Jarvis Valentine and Graham Keel are trading stiff shots. Grimm is stirring. Maxx is licking the bottom rope and laughing to himself.
Phillips: The pace just shifted again. You can’t pin down El Fantasma Oscuro — you just hope he doesn’t make you disappear.
Bravo: What number is this, Phillips? How many people are in that ring?
Phillips: We're nearing the final few. And with every second, the stakes get higher — and the floor around the ring gets more crowded with shattered dreams.
Bravo: Here comes the next soul brave enough to enter the storm!
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!
The tron explodes in a flash of sparks as a gold-and-blue overlay washes over the arena. A bold pyro *POP!* blasts from the stage, and through the smoke struts Mr. Juan Calderon — part action hero, part Hollywood flair, all unpredictability.
He grins wide, adjusting his taped wrists as he marches down the ramp, mouthing to the camera — “Time to flip the script.”
Phillips: The stuntman-turned-superstar — Mr. Juan Calderon — has officially entered the Rumble!
Bravo: He's the only guy I know who could blow up a car on set and then win a match by using a rolling camera dolly. He’s chaos in boots!
Calderon slides under the ropes, springs to his feet, and immediately explodes into motion with a Combustion Crossbody onto Graham Keel, knocking him back!
Fantasma Oscuro attempts to intercept, but Calderon ducks, plants him with a Voltage Drop DDT! The crowd roars as the pace escalates again.
Silas Grimm, rising from the corner, glares at the mayhem. But his moment of observation costs him — Shaffer sprints in with a Gale Force Dropkick to the jaw!
Maxx Mayhem cackles and yells, “OHHHH IT’S A PARTY!” — and grabs Grimm from behind, hoisting him up in a back suplex lift—
Jarvis Valentine joins in! He charges and clotheslines Grimm as Maxx drops him over the top rope—
Grimm crashes to the floor below!
SILAS GRIMM IS ELIMINATED!
Phillips: There he goes! The haunting force of Silas Grimm… has just been exorcised from the ring!
Bravo: It took two maniacs and one wrecking ball to do it, but Grimm’s out! And Calderon’s flipping the energy in here fast!
In the center of the ring, Calderon spins dramatically and strikes a pose as the crowd pops. Behind him, El Fantasma Oscuro crouches again… watching… waiting…
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!
Phillips: Another one on the way — the final stretch is getting real crowded!
The lights flicker in red, white, and blue strobe as an alt-rock anthem erupts over the PA. The WrestleZone crowd pops as Jaxon Ryder explodes out from behind the curtain, all smiles, all energy, slapping hands and racing toward the ring like a man on a mission.
Phillips: Here comes a true fan favorite—Jaxon Ryder! The pride of Dayton, and one of the most resilient competitors in all of WrestleUTA!
Bravo: Dude’s got cardio for days, Phillips. I once saw him wrestle for an hour, then run a 5K. That’s either heart... or a psychotic break.
Jaxon leaps onto the apron, springboards over the top rope, and lands with a dramatic salute to the crowd. Inside, the chaos hasn’t slowed. Jarvis Valentine is clashing with Calderon, while Keel and Shaffer trade holds like chess masters. Fantasma Oscuro drifts eerily behind the brawls, looking for a window to strike.
But Maxx Mayhem is still loud, still alive, smashing a trash lid over the back of Calderon—until he turns right into Ryder’s missile dropkick! Mayhem’s trash lid goes flying!
Bravo: There goes the cookware!
Ryder charges again—springboard crossbody! Then a flurry of forearms rocks Mayhem back to the ropes. The crowd builds behind Jaxon. He points to the fans—
Phillips: He’s calling his shot!
Superkick! Mayhem stumbles, dazed. Ryder bounces the ropes—running clothesline! Another!
And then with a final burst of adrenaline, Ryder ducks under a wild shot, pops up into a hurricanrana—
Maxx Mayhem goes over the top!
ELIMINATED: MAXX MAYHEM
Bravo: And that’s all she wrote for Maxx! Trash lids, chaos, and a hurricanrana exit courtesy of Jaxon Ryder!
Phillips: What an entrance—Ryder made his mark immediately, and cleared the ring by one!
Ryder throws a salute to the fans as Mayhem pounds the floor in frustration, but doesn’t re-enter. The momentum shifts yet again—
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!
Phillips: The final entrant’s about to enter!
Lightning cracks across the titantron as the screen flashes with a roaring storm. The crowd erupts—because out charges Brandon Henderson, the pulse of WrestleUTA: Orlando, his denim vest whipping behind him like a war banner!
Phillips: And here he comes! The final entrant in the Rumble at the WrestleZone—Brandon Henderson! And listen to this place!
Bravo: Pittsburgh’s own storm chaser is bringing the thunder to Orlando! Let’s see who survives the eye of the storm now!
Henderson hits the ring like a bolt from the sky, immediately flooring Calderon with a Thunderclap Chop! Keel turns into a Lightning Bolt Lariat that drops him like a sandbag!
El Fantasma Oscuro tries a springboard—caught midair!—and spinebustered to hell!
Jaxon Ryder and Jarvis Valentine glance across the ring. Shaffer nods. The final phase of chaos begins.
Meanwhile, Keel gets back to his feet, but he’s dazed—he stumbles into the corner, right into Henderson’s path.
Phillips: Graham Keel’s been in there a long time, and that’s a fresh Brandon Henderson!
Body splash in the corner! Henderson grabs the arm—spins—Tempest Powerbomb!
Keel rolls to the ropes, holding his back. Henderson lines him up, the crowd rising with him—
Bravo: He’s calling for the gale force!
Gale Force Knee!—flush to the jaw! Keel’s head snaps back, and he stumbles blindly toward the ropes—
Henderson charges—clothesline over the top!
ELIMINATED: GRAHAM KEEL
Phillips: And that’s it for Keel! What a run, but Brandon Henderson just put the exclamation point on it!
Bravo: We’ve got our final lineup, Phillips. The ring is full of sharks—and every one of them smells blood!
The crowd roars as the last pack of contenders begins to circle. No new buzzer. No more countdowns. This is it.
The ring settles, but only slightly. Breathing is heavy. Sweat drips. And for the first time all night, there’s clarity — six competitors remain.
Phillips: Ladies and gentlemen, we are down to the final six in the Rumble at the WrestleZone. And that means one thing—
Bravo: These six have all earned their place in the Ace in the Hole Ladder Match at WrestleUTA: 25! That’s the good news.
Phillips: But only one of them… will leave here with the upper hand. A strategic advantage in the biggest match of the summer.
In opposite corners stand Jarvis Valentine and Jaxon Ryder — battered but alert. Aaron Shaffer paces along the ropes, storm eyes flickering. Brandon Henderson crouches in the turnbuckle like he’s waiting for kickoff. Mr. Juan Calderon throws mock punches in the air, fired up. And El Fantasma Oscuro… he just stands, deathly still.
Then chaos breaks loose.
Ryder dives at Calderon. Henderson swings at Shaffer. Valentine lunges at Oscuro—
El Fantasma ducks! He tilt-a-whirls onto Jarvis and tries for a headscissors—but Jarvis plants his feet!
Countered! Spinning neckbreaker! Oscuro bounces off the mat like a rag doll, and Jarvis drags him up and toward the ropes!
Phillips: Fantasma’s in trouble—Valentine’s going for the kill!
Oscuro tries a desperation elbow, but Jarvis kicks the back of his knee, then deadlifts him up—
Whispers of Death—NO! Jarvis blocks it—and dumps El Fantasma Oscuro over the top rope!
ELIMINATED: EL FANTASMA OSCURO
Bravo: There’s the ghost, exorcised by sheer strength! Valentine’s not playing around!
Meanwhile, Calderon manages to dropkick Ryder into the corner and turns—right into Brandon Henderson!
Blast Radius Legdrop! No—Henderson rolls aside!
Thunderclap Chop! Calderon reels. Henderson backs up—Lightning Bolt Lariat sends Calderon into the ropes!
Phillips: Juan Calderon is reeling now—he’s got no clue where he is!
Shaffer leaps from the second rope—Tempest Suplex!—Calderon flattens out!
All three men—Ryder, Shaffer, Henderson—lift Calderon together—and dump him over the top!
ELIMINATED: MR. JUAN CALDERON
Bravo: And then there were four. It’s Henderson… Shaffer… Ryder… Valentine. Four men with momentum, with grit, and now with destiny in their sights.
The crowd is on their feet. These aren’t just survivors — these are the final contenders for an edge at WrestleUTA: 25. The arena trembles as the square-off begins.
Phillips: This is it. The final four. No more surprises. One more elimination, one step closer to glory.
Brandon Henderson slaps his chest. Jaxon Ryder rolls his shoulders. Aaron Shaffer spins in place like a storm building force. Jarvis Valentine sneers and points to the WrestleUTA banner in the rafters.
Bravo: What a damn moment, Phillips. This is Rumble at the WrestleZone. And it’s about to get mean.
Four remain.
Aaron Shaffer circles with a bounce in his step, eyes flicking between Brandon Henderson, Jaxon Ryder, and Jarvis Valentine. Each man battered, each one breathing heavy. But no one backing down.
Phillips: These four have punched their ticket to the Ace in the Hole match… but the winner here? They walk in with leverage.
Bravo: This isn’t just about qualifying — it’s about momentum. It’s about walking into WrestleUTA: 25 with the whole world watching and knowing… you’re the one who beat out nineteen others.
Ryder and Shaffer suddenly explode into motion — colliding mid-ring in a flurry of forearms and dropkicks!
That leaves Jarvis Valentine and Brandon Henderson face-to-face.
Jarvis throws the first shot — a stiff right. Henderson fires back with a Thunderclap Chop that sends the crowd into a frenzy!
Jarvis stumbles—Lightning Bolt Lariat! But Valentine ducks under!
Back elbow! Henderson reels — Jarvis grabs him by the wrist—Irish whip!
Brandon rebounds—but Jarvis is waiting—
Pop-up Spinebuster! The ring shudders under the impact!
Phillips: Oh my God! He nearly broke Henderson in half!
Shaffer and Ryder both freeze at the slam — watching as Jarvis drags Henderson up by the vest and walks him to the ropes…
One leg over—Henderson kicks frantically—but Jarvis muscles him up—
Bravo: He’s got him!
Ryder charges—Shaffer cuts him off!—Jarvis heaves—
OVER THE TOP!!!
ELIMINATED: BRANDON HENDERSON
Phillips: And just like that — the final three are locked in!
Bravo: Jaxon Ryder. Aaron Shaffer. Jarvis Valentine. That’s your last stand!
Jarvis leans into the ropes, breathing like a man possessed. Across from him, Ryder steadies his hands. Shaffer paces in a tight circle, storm building.
Phillips: Only one man can leave with the advantage heading into WrestleUTA: 25… and these three are about to go to war for it.
The final three square up.
Jarvis Valentine stumbles back into the corner after eating a springboard forearm from Aaron Shaffer. Jaxon Ryder zeroes in — his chest heaving, his eyes sharp.
Phillips: It looked like Jarvis might be in trouble there — he’s hanging on by a thread!
Shaffer charges in—but Jarvis gets a boot up! He explodes forward with a leaping clothesline that flattens Shaffer! Ryder tries to grab him from behind — but Jarvis spins and levels him with a sudden back elbow!
All three men crash into the canvas at different angles.
Bravo: This is chaos. No breathing room. No wasted motion. Every single move could be the last.
Ryder is up first. He charges at Jarvis again and sends him flipping over the ropes!
Phillips: HE’S OUT! VALENTINE’S OUT—
NO! Jarvis skims the apron — catching the middle rope with both hands. One foot nearly grazes the floor, but he pulls himself back up!
Bravo: That was millimeters away from disaster! Jarvis Valentine’s still in!
Shaffer comes flying in—Ryder moves—Shaffer blasts Jarvis off the apron! Or… he would have—but Jarvis drops down and pulls the rope!
Shaffer’s own momentum sends him over the top! He grabs at the ropes—but his grip slips!
THUD!!
ELIMINATED: AARON SHAFFER
Phillips: NO WAY! Aaron Shaffer is eliminated!
Bravo: Are you kidding me?! He had Jarvis dead to rights — but the vet turned it around and dumped the champ!
Shaffer lands hard on the outside, slamming his fist against the floor. In the ring, Jarvis rolls under the rope, chest rising and falling like a piston.
Jaxon Ryder stands across the ring now — jaw tight, shoulders square. The crowd rises with him.
Phillips: It’s down to this — Jaxon Ryder vs. Jarvis Valentine. One of these men is walking into WrestleUTA: 25 with the upper hand in Ace in the Hole.
Bravo: One last elimination. One last exclamation point. Let’s go!
Jaxon Ryder circles cautiously, his boots scraping the canvas as he sizes up Jarvis Valentine. The crowd is buzzing — this is it. The final two.
Phillips: Jarvis Valentine has been in this match since entry number one. He’s outlasted twenty-three other competitors... and now he’s staring down one last obstacle.
Bravo: If he pulls this off, Phillips, that’s historic. But don’t count out Jaxon Ryder — he’s as fresh as anyone could be this deep in the game.
Jarvis leans on the ropes, breathing hard, chest heaving. His hair is soaked. His jaw is clenched. But his eyes… still focused.
Ryder rushes in — dropkick! Jarvis absorbs it and rolls through to his feet. The crowd pops as both men spring back into motion.
They trade strikes — right hand from Ryder! Uppercut from Jarvis! Forearm smash! Knee lift!
Phillips: Jarvis is running on fumes — but every shot still lands with bad intentions!
Ryder whips Valentine to the ropes — Jarvis ducks a lariat and rebounds — flying clothesline! Both men crash to the mat!
Bravo: And they’re both down! This is what you call leaving it all in the ring!
The crowd rises to their feet, clapping, stomping, willing both men to their feet.
Jarvis pulls himself up using the ropes. Ryder gets to one knee. They lock eyes again — and charge.
Collar-and-elbow tie-up. Jarvis twists into a side headlock. Ryder lifts — but Jarvis shifts mid-air and lands behind him with a neckbreaker counter!
Phillips: What a counter! And that’s the kind of veteran instinct that’s gotten Jarvis this far!
Bravo: He’s been in the ring nearly an hour, and he’s still pulling moves like that?!
Jarvis gets up slowly, his hands on his knees, sweat dripping. He looks down at Ryder… then glances at the WrestleZone logo on the canvas… and then up toward the WrestleUTA: 25 banner hanging above the entranceway.
Phillips: You know what this means to him. To go into WrestleUTA: 25 not just in the Ace in the Hole match… but to have the advantage?
Bravo: Jarvis ain’t done yet. Neither is Ryder. But somebody’s dream is about to get crushed.
The crowd claps rhythmically as both men stir — the final moments are coming.
The crowd is on their feet. Jarvis Valentine pulls himself up, shaking out the pain in his shoulder. Jaxon Ryder grips the middle rope, jaw clenched, fire still in his eyes. This is it — the final two.
Phillips: Sixty seconds. Sixty minutes. Twenty-four eliminations. And we are down… to this.
Bravo: And you couldn’t script a better final two! The young firebrand versus the iron-willed survivor!
They meet center ring — a slap from Ryder sets it off! Jarvis answers with a thunderous right!
Ryder charges — pop-up hurricanrana! Jarvis tumbles toward the ropes — but hangs on! His boots skim the apron, but he rolls back under the bottom rope!
Phillips: He’s still in! Jarvis Valentine will not go down!
Ryder tries again — springboard crossbody! Jarvis ducks — Ryder crashes hard!
Jarvis grabs him — Ace Breaker!!! A lightning-fast lifting underhook neckbreaker!
Bravo: THAT’S the move! That’s the one that turns tides!
Jarvis stumbles to the corner — hauls Ryder up — runs him toward the ropes! Ryder fights back with elbows, kicks —
Jarvis twists, spins — spinebuster! Then lifts Ryder again — launches him—
Ryder catches the top rope! He dangles — one foot almost hits the floor —
Phillips: Ryder’s hanging on for dear life!!
Jarvis sprints to the ropes — rebounds — leaping clothesline! He drills Ryder midair!
OVER THE TOP!!!
JAXON RYDER IS ELIMINATED!
DING DING DING!
The WrestleZone erupts as Jarvis Valentine collapses to his knees. His face is a mask of exhaustion and disbelief. The official lifts his arm as confetti rains from above.
Phillips: HE DID IT! He did it! Jarvis Valentine has won the Rumble at the WrestleZone — and with it, the final advantage heading into the Ace in the Hole match!
Bravo: He entered at NUMBER ONE. He lasted over an hour. And now… he’s going into WrestleUTA: 25 with momentum, grit, and one hell of a target on his back.
Jarvis kneels in the center of the ring, staring up at the WrestleUTA: 25 banner. Around him, the other five survivors — Aaron Shaffer, Jaxon Ryder, Brandon Henderson, El Fantasma Oscuro, and Mr. Juan Calderon — are gone. He is the last man standing.
Phillips: Six names will enter that ladder match… but Jarvis Valentine just proved why he might be the one to climb all the way to the top.
Bravo: The Ace in the Hole just got himself a King.
Fade out on Jarvis raising a single fist as the crowd chants his name, the WrestleUTA: 25 logo glowing bright on the screen above.
