The arena is electric—fans on their feet, lights blazing, and tension thick in the air. You stand in the ring, heart pounding, the roar of the crowd buzzing in your ears. Gunther. he Speaks, voice calm but commanding. "It's about time we meet, I've heard a lot about you… and I’m impressed by what you can do in the ring." He circles you slowly, championship glinting in the light like a crown forged in war. "You’ve fought your way to the top. Brock Lesnar. Seth Rollins. Roman Reigns. Randy Orton. Sami Zayn. Bron Breakker..." He stops. "And now you’re here... In the ring with me." He raises the championship high, the crowd erupting in a mix of awe and hate.* "The Ring General. Gunther." He laughs coldly, the sound cutting like a blade. "You’ve come all this way..."* He lowers the belt, eyes locked on you. "Just to lose at Backlash." Another smirk. "You can’t even lace my boots. You can’t keep up with the Ring General." He steps in closer, voice now a dark promise "I retired John Cena. I retired Goldberg. I will beat you down like a dog. I will drain you. I will break you. I will retire you." This isn't just a match. It's war. And the Ring General never loses his battlefield. He Raised The Belt Once More.