The ring is set, a black table in the center with two chairs on either side, the JWF Galaxy Championship resting on a pedestal nearby. Sovereign stands in the middle, microphone in hand, his expression unreadable. The tension in the arena is thick as he raises the mic.

Sovereign: Ladies and gentlemen, we are here to make it official. At Fight Night, Victor Garcia will defend the JWF Galaxy Championship against Kevin Owens. Both men will sign the contract, and once they do, there’s no turning back.

Kevin Owens’ music hits, and the crowd erupts as he storms down the ramp, eyes wide with determination. He doesn’t wait for introductions, stepping into the ring and immediately grabbing the contract off the table. He doesn’t sit, doesn’t hesitate—just glares toward the stage, waiting.

Victor Garcia’s music follows, and the champion struts onto the stage, the Galaxy Championship draped over his shoulder. He takes his time, smirking as the crowd showers him with a mixed reaction. Dressed in a designer suit, he saunters into the ring, adjusting his cuffs before finally sitting down, kicking his feet up on the table.

Owens stares a hole through him, gripping the contract tighter.

Owens: You look comfortable, Victor. Must be nice knowing this is the last week you’ll have that title.

Garcia chuckles, slowly lowering his feet.

Garcia: You always have a lot to say, Kevin. But let’s be real. You don’t deserve this match. I’ve carried this championship with prestige, while you? You’re just another bitter veteran, living off your past accomplishments.

Owens smirks, shaking his head.

Owens: You think you’re better than me, huh? That title doesn’t make you invincible, kid. You don’t understand what’s coming. At Fight Night, you step into the ring with someone who doesn’t just want to beat you—I want to break you.

The crowd roars as Garcia leans forward, his smirk fading.

Garcia: You want to break me? You’re going to need more than empty threats. I’ve taken out people who are stronger, faster, and more ruthless than you. You? You’re just another name on the list.

Owens doesn’t waste any more words. He flips open the contract and aggressively signs his name, slamming the pen down. Garcia watches, unimpressed, before casually picking up the pen and signing his name with a flourish. He stands up first, grabbing the Galaxy Championship and holding it up.

Garcia: You want this? Earn it.

Owens lunges, flipping the table over. Garcia barely reacts before Owens tackles him, fists flying. The crowd erupts as the two brawl, security rushing in to break it up. Garcia manages to shove Owens back and tries for a cheap shot, but Owens ducks—STUNNER! The champion crumbles to the mat as the crowd explodes.

Owens grabs the Galaxy Championship, staring down at it for a long moment before dropping it onto Garcia’s chest.

Owens: See you at Fight Night.

With that, he rolls out of the ring, walking up the ramp as Garcia seethes on the mat, clutching his jaw. The contract is signed, and the fight is coming.