Aired - January 30, 2026
(Black screen. The sound of a heavy book opening. A candle ignites. Ink creeps across parchment like it’s alive.)
(A choir hums low. A single bell tolls.)
Voice-over (smooth, ominous):
“Once upon a time… they told you monsters weren’t real.”
(beat)
“Here… they win matches.”
(The words burn into the screen like a cursed fairytale title card.)
NPCW: DARK FABLE
Voice-over:
“This is the MYTHIC Division.”
“Welcome… to DARK FABLE.”
SIGNATURE MONTAGE
1) Universal Tag Champions — Hans Trapp & Knecht Ruprecht
(Torchlight. Two silhouettes. Titles glint like weapons.)
Hans Trapp and Knecht Ruprecht stalk to the ring—then a violent cut: a ruthless, synchronized finish. One holds the opponent in place; the other strikes like judgment. They raise the belts slowly, not celebrating—claiming.
2) Sandman
(An hourglass spills sand upward.)
Sandman snaps into motion—cold precision. A sudden, nightmare-fast impact drops his opponent. He stands still as the camera jitters, like reality itself is afraid to focus on him.
3) Frankenstein’s Monster
(Lightning flash. Thunder hit.)
Frankenstein’s Monster absorbs shots that should end anyone—then surges forward and crushes a foe with a catastrophic slam. The ring shakes. The crowd reacts like they’ve seen a myth step off the page.
4) Robin Hood
(A streak like an arrow across the screen transitions the shot.)
Robin Hood slips a strike by inches and counters with surgical speed—clean, heroic, efficient. He points straight into the hard cam, as if calling his next target.
5) Hansel
(Breadcrumbs scatter across the canvas—then dissolve into smoke.)
Hansel fights like someone who learned survival the hard way—quick hands, sharper instincts. A sudden finishing burst flips the match in a heartbeat.
6) Snow White
(Soft light… then a hard snap to impact.)
Snow White shows heart and grit—turning a moment of danger into a clean counter and decisive strike. The fairy tale isn’t fragile here. It fights.
7) Lady Frost, Snow Queen
(Sound drops out. Breath fogs the air.)
Lady Frost moves with chilling control—elegant, merciless. A slick takedown into a finishing hold—she tightens it slowly, eyes calm as winter.
8) Gretel
(A childlike melody warps into something darker.)
Gretel explodes with intensity—fast, determined, ruthless when it counts. She drives through a final sequence like she’s escaping a trap.
(Choir rises. War drums join. The arena looks like a cathedral of combat under dark lighting.)
Voice-over:
“This isn’t the North.”
“This isn’t the light.”
“In DARK FABLE… the story doesn’t end happily.”
(beat)
“It ends… with a winner.”
“This… is DARK FABLE.”
The camera drifts across the Camelot Coliseum. Torchlight flickers against stone. The crowd is loud, but not playful—anticipation hangs heavy.
A section near the ramp is draped in crimson and gold. Fans raise replica swords and battered crowns, chanting in unison for King Arthur. Hand-painted signs read “The King Endures” and “Camelot Stands.” The devotion feels ancestral, not trendy.
The shot shifts higher into the stands. Green cloaks. Feathered caps. Faux longbows slung over shoulders. A chant rolls through the section like a marching rhythm as supporters of Robin Hood stamp their feet, jeering the idea of crowns and titles alike.
Near the hard camera, the energy turns sharper. Two voices chant in rough cadence—“HAN-SEL! HAN-SEL!” Beside them, a smaller but fiercer pocket responds for Gretel. Fans of Hansel and Gretel hold signs painted like splintered candy houses, their loyalty split but intense.
The camera pans again—this time to coordinated chaos. Glitter. Denim jackets. Spray-painted lightning bolts. Fans leap the barricade rail just enough to be warned by security as supporters of the Blonde Bombshells scream themselves hoarse, two cardboard crowns taped together and raised high.
Finally, a softer glow. White banners. Gold trim. Children on shoulders. The chant is gentler but unwavering for Snow White and Prince Charming, applause rippling instead of roaring.
The cameras cut to the ring.
Alton Bell stands alone at center. Still. Immaculate. Beside him, a low dais rests beneath a heavy black blanket.
Alton Bell:
“Welcome… to Dark Fable.”
The crowd settles.
Alton Bell:
“Tonight, the road begins. The road to OATHBOUND. February twenty-second. Where myth will be tested… and crowns will be earned.”
He places a hand on the covered dais.
Alton Bell:
“At Oathbound, this division will no longer speak in prophecy. It will speak in champions.”
With a sharp pull, the blanket is removed—revealing the Mythic Crown Championship and the Eternal Flame Championship, metal gleaming under firelight.
A low murmur rolls through the arena.
Alton Bell:
“Eight men enter the Mythic Crown Tournament. Single elimination. Four first-round trials tonight. Two semifinals in the weeks to come. One final… at Oathbound.”
He pauses.
Alton Bell:
“The Eternal Flame will be decided differently. Ten men. One battle royal. Five names revealed next week. Five more will fight their way in.”
Bell turns slightly toward the hard camera.
Alton Bell:
“This is not opportunity. This is inevitability.”
He steps aside, gestures outward.
Alton Bell:
“Julian. Brick. The night is yours.”
The camera cuts to the desk.
Julian Ward:
“Five matches tonight. Four of them shaping the Mythic Crown before it even exists.”
Brick Brody:
“Yeah—and some of ‘em aren’t walkin’ out the same way they walked in. That’s how it should be.”
Julian Ward:
“Mordred versus Heracles. Lancelot against Frankenstein’s Monster. Hansel facing his king. And in the main event—Sandman and Robin Hood.”
Brick Brody:
“And don’t forget the tag champs gettin’ tested. Crowns everywhere, Julian. Let’s see who deserves the weight.”
The camera lingers on the belts one last time.
The road to Oathbound has begun.
Entrances & Introductions
Louie Linville stands perfectly centered in the ring, hands folded, eyes forward.
“The following contest is a Mythic Crown Tournament First Round Match.
There is no time limit.
There must be a winner.”
The lights dim further.
A low, funereal hum rolls through Camelot Coliseum as Mordred steps through the smoke. Blackened armor catches the torchlight. No flourish. No acknowledgment. He walks as if the ring already belongs to him. The sigil of the Broken Crown glints briefly before disappearing beneath shadow.
Julian Ward: “This is not just a debut. This is a declaration.”
Brick Brody: “That’s a man who doesn’t need cheers. He needs bodies.”
Thunder cracks.
Golden light floods the entranceway as Heracles emerges, shoulders squared, jaw set. He pauses only once—looking toward the ring—then marches forward. Behind him, looming and imperious, Zeus raises a hand, the promise of chaos barely restrained.
Julian Ward: “Power without apology. But tonight—tested against malice.”
Brick Brody: “I don’t like gods. But I like what they do to people.”
Linville lifts the mic once more.
“Introducing first… from the shadows of Camelot… MORDRED.”
“And his opponent… accompanied by Zeus… HERACLES.”
The bell rings.
1st Minute
Both men explode forward—clothesline from Mordred, answered instantly by a crushing spinebuster.
Julian Ward: “Neither man interested in patience.”
Brick Brody: “Good. Patience gets you hurt.”
2nd–4th Minutes
The rhythm settles into violent symmetry—DDTs, slams, dropkicks—neither gaining true separation.
Julian Ward: “Mordred is matching strength with structure.”
Brick Brody: “He’s fightin’ like he belongs.”
5th–6th Minutes
Heracles lands LABORS END—then Zeus interferes, lightning-fast.
Brick Brody: “That’s how champions get made.”
Julian Ward: “And how consequences are born.”
7th–10th Minutes
Mordred absorbs punishment. Dropkicks, suplexes, powerbombs. He never retreats.
Julian Ward: “This is endurance as ideology.”
Brick Brody: “Kid’s too stupid to quit. I respect it.”
11th–14th Minutes
Zeus distracts again. Mordred is forced onto defense.
Julian Ward: “The match tilting on interference.”
Brick Brody: “Tilted don’t mean broken.”
15th–18th Minutes
Forearms rain down. Spinebusters shake the ring. Mordred answers with neckbreakers—each one tighter, sharper.
Julian Ward: “Mordred is learning the cadence.”
Brick Brody: “He’s settin’ the trap.”
19th Minute
Sharpshooter—Zeus throws the referee from the ring.
Julian Ward: “No official!”
Brick Brody: “Now it’s honest.”
Heracles refuses to submit.
20th–24th Minutes
The war grinds on. Powerslams. Powerbombs. Sweat and defiance.
Julian Ward: “Heracles is burning fuel he won’t get back.”
Brick Brody: “Gods bleed same as men.”
25th–28th Minutes
Reversal after reversal. Mordred counters the spinebuster into a sitout powerbomb.
Julian Ward: “That might be the opening.”
Brick Brody: “Do it again. End him.”
29th Minute
Sharpshooter. Center of the ring. No Zeus. No escape.
Heracles taps.
The bell finally rings.
Julian Ward: “Mordred survives power, interference, and endurance—and advances.”
Brick Brody: “That wasn’t a win. That was a warning.”
Julian Ward: “The Broken Crown takes its first step… and the Mythic Crown just learned its weight.”
MORDRED DEFEATS HERACLES VIA SUBMISSION AT THE 29-MINUTE MARK.
Mordred releases the hold slowly. He stands. He does not celebrate.
The road has claimed its first body.
The ring does not clear.
Mordred stands where Heracles fell. Breathing steady. Unmarked. He lowers, picks up the discarded microphone.
The lights dim again.
A ripple of unease moves through the crowd as Morgana Le Fay steps through the ropes and joins him. She does not touch him. She does not look at the audience. Her presence alone shifts the temperature.
Mordred raises the mic.
Mordred:
“Tonight was not a victory.”
He glances once at the entranceway Heracles vanished through.
Mordred:
“It was confirmation.”
He turns toward the hard camera.
Mordred:
“Camelot was built on stories. On promises of honor. On kings who believed blood made them chosen.”
Morgana smiles faintly.
Mordred:
“Those stories end.”
A pause. The crowd murmurs.
Mordred:
“The Broken Crown does not beg the gods. We break them.”
A subtle nod toward where Zeus had stood.
Mordred:
“Monsters will fall. Heroes will kneel. Kings will watch their thrones rot beneath them.”
Morgana finally speaks—soft, venomous.
Morgana Le Fay:
“Every oath sworn in this land was sworn to a lie.”
She steps closer, voice carrying without effort.
Morgana Le Fay:
“The crown was never sacred. Only stolen.”
Mordred lifts the mic again.
Mordred:
“The Mythic Crown will not be worn by the worthy.”
He leans into the camera.
Mordred:
“It will be claimed by the inevitable.”
He lowers the mic. Morgana places her hand lightly on his shoulder.
Mordred:
“This was the first step.”
The two stand together as the lights fade—
not triumphant,
not celebratory,
but certain.
The Broken Crown has announced itself.
Entrances & Introductions
Louie Linville remains centered in the ring, voice measured and ceremonial.
“The following contest is scheduled for one fall.”
The lights soften—still dark, but less oppressive.
Maid Marion steps into view. She does not rush. Her eyes scan the ring, then the shadows beyond it. There is resolve here, not bravado. She moves with purpose, sliding under the ropes and taking her corner, jaw set.
Julian Ward: “Maid Marion fights for something beyond herself.”
Brick Brody: “Yeah—and that usually gets you hurt.”
The lights drop again. Colder now.
Morgana Le Fay enters without haste. No spellwork. No flourish. She walks as if the match is already unfolding in her favor. The Broken Crown’s sigil glints briefly as she steps between the ropes, eyes never leaving Marion.
Julian Ward: “This is not mysticism. This is method.”
Brick Brody: “She’ll take her apart piece by piece.”
Linville lifts the mic.
“Introducing first… MAID MARION.
And her opponent… of the Broken Crown… MORGANA LE FAY.”
The bell rings.
1st Minute
Marion strikes first—diving senton—only to eat a sharp roundhouse.
Julian Ward: “Initiative met with precision.”
Brick Brody: “You swing first, you better swing last.”
2nd–3rd Minutes
Arm-trap neckbreakers from Marion. Morgana answers with limb work, grinding the arm, testing resistance.
Julian Ward: “Marion is trying to keep this physical.”
Brick Brody: “And Morgana’s makin’ it surgical.”
4th Minute
Marion stalls. Morgana presses, kicks landing flush.
Julian Ward: “Momentum shifting.”
Brick Brody: “That’s how you steal confidence.”
5th–6th Minutes
Dropkick from Marion. Shining Wizard from Morgana—then another.
Julian Ward: “Morgana accelerating.”
Brick Brody: “She smells weakness.”
7th Minute
Marion rallies—another arm-trap neckbreaker—but Morgana fires back instantly.
Julian Ward: “Resilience from Marion.”
Brick Brody: “Resilience don’t win fights.”
8th Minute
Side Russian legsweep into the Octopus Hold.
Julian Ward: “Targeting the spine and shoulder.”
Brick Brody: “That’s ownership.”
9th Minute
Both women trade—neckbreaker, German suplex—neither backing down.
Julian Ward: “This has become survival.”
Brick Brody: “And survival favors the cruel.”
10th Minute
Marion locks in the Cross STF.
Julian Ward: “Submission attempt!”
Brick Brody: “Break it or tap!”
Morgana refuses. Twists free. Answers with another entangling hold.
11th Minute
Lou Thesz Press from Marion—desperation. Morgana counters, sinks low, wraps tight.
The Ground Dragon Sleeper is locked in.
Marion struggles. Fades.
She taps.
The bell rings.
Julian Ward: “Maid Marion fought with heart—but heart was not enough.”
Brick Brody: “Morgana didn’t beat her. She claimed her.”
Julian Ward: “The Broken Crown continues to tighten its grip on this division.”
Morgana releases the hold slowly, rises, and looks toward the back—toward Mordred.
No gesture. No signal.
Just alignment.
MORGANA LE FAY DEFEATS MAID MARION VIA SUBMISSION AT THE 11-MINUTE MARK.
The Broken Crown advances—quietly, relentlessly.
Entrances & Introductions
Louie Linville stands unmoving at center ring.
“The following contest is a Mythic Crown Tournament First Round Match.
There is no time limit.
There must be a winner.”
White-gold light cuts through the darkness.
Sir Lancelot steps onto the stage, armor muted, expression focused. He does not acknowledge the crowd. At his side walks Merlin, staff in hand, eyes never leaving the ring. Together they move with purpose—duty before glory.
Julian Ward: “This is Camelot’s ideal made flesh.”
Brick Brody: “Ideals crack when they hit concrete.”
The lights die abruptly.
A low mechanical hum builds as Frankenstein's Monster lumbers into view—stitched, massive, expressionless. Behind him, calm and calculating, Dr. Frankenstein adjusts his gloves, eyes bright with anticipation.
Julian Ward: “An Alpha Monster. Not a man. Not a myth.”
Brick Brody: “That thing ain’t here to wrestle. It’s here to end somebody.”
Linville raises the mic.
“Introducing first… accompanied by Merlin… SIR LANCELOT.
And his opponent… accompanied by Dr. Frankenstein… FRANKENSTEIN’S MONSTER.”
The bell rings.
1st Minute
Merlin gestures—energy surges through Lancelot. The Monster answers with a brutal double axe handle.
Julian Ward: “Rejuvenation met with raw force.”
Brick Brody: “Magic don’t stop gravity.”
2nd Minute
Fallaway slam drives Lancelot into the mat.
Julian Ward: “Early dominance from the Monster.”
Brick Brody: “That’s mass doing what mass does.”
3rd Minute
Rolling elbow from Lancelot—then the chair cracks across his back.
Julian Ward: “Illegal assistance!”
Brick Brody: “You call it illegal. I call it efficient.”
4th–5th Minutes
Lancelot rallies—shooting star press, elbows in succession. The Monster absorbs it all.
Julian Ward: “Technique versus tolerance.”
Brick Brody: “Tolerance is winnin’.”
6th–8th Minutes
Strikes traded—enzuigiri, superkick—each answered with crushing slams.
Julian Ward: “Lancelot refuses to retreat.”
Brick Brody: “He’s makin’ it worse for himself.”
9th–12th Minutes
Momentum swings—rolling elbows, bulldog, another aerial strike. The Monster stumbles, but never falls.
Julian Ward: “Camelot finding hope.”
Brick Brody: “Hope’s a bad habit.”
13th Minute
Midair collision—shooting star press meets the Bolt Driver.
Julian Ward: “Catastrophic impact!”
Brick Brody: “That’s the fight right there.”
14th Minute
Lancelot fires again—enzuigiri lands clean.
Julian Ward: “He’s still standing!”
Brick Brody: “Not for long.”
15th Minute
Another leap—another chair. The Monster drops into the cover.
Julian Ward: “No—this can’t be how it ends!”
Brick Brody: “That’s exactly how it ends.”
1… 2… 3.
The bell rings.
Julian Ward: “Sir Lancelot fought with honor—but honor was not protected tonight.”
Brick Brody: “Monsters don’t need honor. They need permission.”
Julian Ward: “With help from Dr. Frankenstein, the Alpha Monster advances… and Camelot suffers a devastating blow.”
Dr. Frankenstein stands over his creation, nodding once.
Merlin kneels beside Lancelot, checking on him.
The Monster does not look back.
FRANKENSTEIN’S MONSTER DEFEATS SIR LANCELOT VIA PINFALL AT THE 15-MINUTE MARK.
The Mythic Crown tournament grows darker.
The corridor is dim, stone walls lit by torches that flicker just enough to leave corners in shadow.
Hana Nakamura stands beside Robin Hood.
Robin is dressed in black—hood low, arms taped, his face marked in stark black-and-white paint. The look is severe. Stripped of color. Stripped of warmth.
Hana Nakamura:
“Robin, tonight you step into the Mythic Crown Tournament. First round. Sandman. No time limit.”
She studies him carefully.
Hana Nakamura:
“You’ve changed. Does this match feel different because of that?”
Robin exhales through his nose, eyes never leaving the camera.
Robin Hood:
“Crowns don’t change men. They just show who they already are.”
He shifts his shoulders.
Robin Hood:
“Sandman wants to drag people into the dark. That’s fine. I’ve been there longer.”
Hana nods, sensing the edge.
Hana Nakamura:
“This tournament decides who defines Camelot going forward. What does winning the Mythic Crown mean to you?”
Robin finally looks at her.
Robin Hood:
“It means I stop asking permission.”
A sharp whistle cuts through the hall.
Clear. Piercing.
Then—soft, melodic humming. Almost playful.
Hana’s face lights up as a familiar figure steps into frame.
Lark of Sherwood smiles warmly, a lute slung across her back.
Hana Nakamura:
“Lark! It’s good to see you!”
Robin’s jaw tightens immediately.
Robin Hood:
“…You shouldn’t be here.”
Lark ignores the tone.
Lark of Sherwood:
“It’s time.”
She steps closer, undeterred.
Lark of Sherwood:
“Time the band comes back together. Time to fix what’s broken. To mend the fence—with Marion.”
Robin’s eyes flash.
Robin Hood:
“You don’t get to decide that.”
Lark softens her voice.
Lark of Sherwood:
“No. But you don’t get to run from it forever either.”
A beat.
Robin looks past her, down the corridor.
Robin Hood:
“That’s up to Maid Marion.”
He turns to Hana, nods once—respectful, final.
Robin Hood:
“Excuse me.”
He walks off into the shadows, boots echoing against stone.
Hana and Lark watch him go.
Hana Nakamura:
“He’s carrying a lot into that match.”
Lark’s smile fades, replaced with concern.
Lark of Sherwood:
“And some wounds don’t heal by winning.”
The camera lingers as the humming resumes—soft, unresolved—as the shot fades to black.
Entrances & Introductions
Louie Linville stands at center ring, posture rigid, voice ceremonial.
“The following contest is a Mythic Crown Tournament First Round Match.
There is no time limit.
There must be a winner.”
The lights rise just enough to reveal resolve rather than menace.
Hansel emerges first. No theatrics. No flourish. He scans the crowd once, nods to the ring, and steps forward—measured, deliberate, a hunter entering unfamiliar territory.
Julian Ward: “Hansel has survived forests, traps, and monsters. This is another trial.”
Brick Brody: “Yeah, but this forest belongs to somebody else.”
The arena swells as King Arthur appears, flanked by Merlin. Arthur acknowledges the crowd with a restrained nod—no celebration, only duty. The cheers are unmistakable. This is Camelot’s king.
Julian Ward: “The heart of Camelot stands before his people.”
Brick Brody: “Crowd loves him. Won’t save him.”
Linville raises the mic.
“Introducing first… of the Hunter’s Enclave… HANSEL.
And his opponent… accompanied by Merlin… KING ARTHUR.”
The bell rings.
1st Minute
Hansel strikes first—Spine Crusher lands clean.
Julian Ward: “Hansel wasting no time.”
Brick Brody: “Smart. Hit the king before the crown settles.”
2nd Minute
Power slam answered by a thunderous spinebuster.
Julian Ward: “Arthur asserting authority.”
Brick Brody: “That’s how rulers talk.”
3rd–5th Minutes
Atomic drop. Neutralized cross body. Indian Deathlock cinched in tight.
Julian Ward: “Arthur grounding the match.”
Brick Brody: “Bend the legs, break the will.”
Hansel refuses to submit.
6th–8th Minutes
Flying forearm from Hansel. Atomic drop from Arthur. The exchange becomes rhythmic—impact for impact.
Julian Ward: “This is mutual respect forged through pain.”
Brick Brody: “Respect don’t mean mercy.”
9th–12th Minutes
Hansel targets the legs—knees, crabs, toe holds. Arthur grits through it, face tightening but posture unbroken.
Julian Ward: “Hansel changing strategy.”
Brick Brody: “Tryin’ to cut the king down to size.”
Arthur does not submit.
13th–14th Minutes
Another Boston Crab. Another spinning toe hold.
Julian Ward: “Relentless pressure from Hansel.”
Brick Brody: “King’s learnin’ what endurance costs.”
15th Minute
Arthur explodes—KING’S DECREE drops Hansel hard.
Julian Ward: “That could be it!”
Brick Brody: “Pin him!”
Hansel kicks out.
16th–17th Minutes
Flowing DDT. Short-arm clothesline. Arthur presses, but Hansel survives.
Julian Ward: “Hansel refuses to fade.”
Brick Brody: “Stubborn little survivor.”
18th–21st Minutes
They trade forearms, clotheslines, cross bodies—neither backing down.
Julian Ward: “The crowd willing Arthur forward.”
Brick Brody: “Crowds don’t lift weight.”
22nd Minute
Reversal—spinebuster from Arthur.
Julian Ward: “Power reclaiming control.”
Hansel kicks out again.
23rd–24th Minutes
Boston Crab once more. Then a jumping knee drop and another pin attempt.
Julian Ward: “Hansel won’t let go of the legs.”
Brick Brody: “And Arthur won’t stay down.”
25th–28th Minutes
The pace slows. Fatigue shows. Strikes land heavier, slower.
Julian Ward: “This is becoming a war of attrition.”
Brick Brody: “Kings outlast hunters.”
29th Minute
Short-arm clothesline—flush. Arthur covers.
1… 2… 3.
The bell rings.
Julian Ward: “Hansel pushed the King to the edge—but Camelot endures.”
Brick Brody: “That crown’s heavy, Julian. Arthur proved he can carry it.”
Merlin steps into the ring, helping Arthur to his feet. Arthur offers a brief nod toward Hansel—respect without ceremony.
KING ARTHUR DEFEATS HANSEL VIA PINFALL AT THE 29-MINUTE MARK.
Camelot advances.
The Mythic Crown tournament moves closer to its reckoning.
North Star Tag Team Championship Match
Entrances & Introductions
Louie Linville stands centered, voice steady.
“The following contest is a North Star Tag Team Championship Match.”
The champions enter first.
Blonde Bombshells—Alice and Dorothy—move with confidence born of cohesion. No wasted motion. They tap the plates once before taking their corner.
Julian Ward: “These titles were earned through unity.”
Brick Brody: “Unity cracks when pain shows up.”
The lights cool.
Queens of Despair step through the smoke—Regina and Malice—flanked by The Huntsman. Their pace is deliberate. Predatory.
Julian Ward: “This is a challenge built on isolation.”
Brick Brody: “That’s how you take gold—separate and suffocate.”
The bell rings.
1st Minute
Alice fires first—hurricanrana—Malice answers with a cloverleaf.
Julian Ward: “Speed against submission.”
Brick Brody: “Tie her up early.”
2nd Minute
Code Red powerbomb rocks Regina before the tag.
Julian Ward: “Champions striking with precision.”
Brick Brody: “Don’t blink.”
3rd–4th Minutes
The Queens isolate Alice—double teams land clean.
Julian Ward: “Referee trying to restore order.”
Brick Brody: “Order’s already gone.”
5th Minute
Alice breaks free—another Code Red.
Julian Ward: “She won’t stay trapped.”
Brick Brody: “Not yet.”
6th–7th Minutes
Another prolonged double-team sequence drains Alice.
Julian Ward: “Damage accumulating.”
Brick Brody: “That’s the plan.”
8th Minute
Alice counters—hurricanrana—Regina shoves her through the ropes.
Alice hits the floor. She seems to be hurt and is having difficulty getting up.
The count begins.
Julian Ward: “Alice needs to beat the count!”
Brick Brody: “Why would Regina stop it?”
The count reaches ten.
The bell rings.
Julian Ward: “A countout victory for the challengers—but the championships do not change hands.”
Brick Brody: “Win’s a win. Titles or not.”
Regina smirks. Malice raises Alice’s fallen arm mockingly before letting it drop. Dorothy checks on her partner as the champions retain by rule, not relief.
QUEENS OF DESPAIR DEFEAT ALICE AND DOROTHY VIA COUNTOUT AT THE 8-MINUTE MARK.
Blonde Bombshells retain the North Star Tag Team Championships.
The challengers leave with momentum.
The champions leave with their gold—and a warning.
A harsh white light cuts through the backstage corridor.
Hana Nakamura stands beside Frankenstein's Monster and Dr. Frankenstein.
The Monster looms just behind the Doctor—silent, unmoving, eyes fixed somewhere far past the camera. Dr. Frankenstein adjusts his coat, pleased, composed.
Hana Nakamura:
“Doctor, tonight your creation defeated Sir Lancelot in the first round of the Mythic Crown Tournament. What does that victory mean for you… and for him?”
Dr. Frankenstein smiles thinly.
Dr. Frankenstein:
“It means the experiment is proceeding exactly as intended.”
He gestures subtly toward the Monster, who does not react.
Dr. Frankenstein:
“Sir Lancelot represented tradition. Honor. Legacy. All very fragile variables.”
He folds his hands.
Dr. Frankenstein:
“My Monster is not burdened by such weaknesses.”
Hana turns slightly, addressing the towering figure beside him.
Hana Nakamura:
“Monster—do you have anything to say about advancing in the tournament?”
The Monster does not move. Does not blink.
After a long beat, Dr. Frankenstein chuckles softly.
Dr. Frankenstein:
“He does not speak.”
The Monster’s fists clench.
Dr. Frankenstein:
“He demonstrates.”
Hana swallows, regaining her composure.
Hana Nakamura:
“Doctor, what is the end goal here in the Mythic Division?”
Dr. Frankenstein steps closer to the camera.
Dr. Frankenstein:
“Validation.”
He nods once.
Dr. Frankenstein:
“The Mythic Crown will prove what Camelot refuses to accept—that perfection is not born. It is built.”
The Monster finally shifts—just slightly—casting a shadow over both of them.
Dr. Frankenstein:
“And when this division is done testing him…”
He smiles again.
Dr. Frankenstein:
“…it will belong to him.”
The Monster exhales—slow, mechanical, controlled.
Hana forces a polite nod.
Hana Nakamura:
“Thank you for your time.”
Dr. Frankenstein inclines his head. The Monster stares into the lens as the camera slowly fades—
not on triumph,
but on inevitability.
Entrances & Introductions
Louie Linville stands alone at center ring, voice solemn.
“The following contest is a Mythic Crown Tournament First Round Match.
There is no time limit.
There must be a winner.”
The lights sink low.
A dry wind seems to move through the arena as Sandman emerges. Calm. Hollow-eyed. He does not acknowledge the crowd—only the ring. A former Northern Lights Champion returning to a harsher trial.
Julian Ward: “Sandman has lived in the margins of this company. Tonight, he steps back into consequence.”
Brick Brody: “Guy like that don’t fear pain. He knows it.”
The lighting shifts—cooler, sharper.
Robin Hood walks out in black, face marked in stark contrast. No bravado. No smile. This is not the folk hero—this is the outlaw who stayed too long in the dark. Another former Northern Lights Champion. Another man with unfinished business.
Julian Ward: “Robin Hood has stripped himself down to intent.”
Brick Brody: “That’s what happens when you stop pretendin’ you’re the good guy.”
Linville raises the mic.
“Introducing first… SANDMAN.
And his opponent… ROBIN HOOD.”
The bell rings.
1st–2nd Minutes
Robin strikes first—superkicks land clean, snapping Sandman’s head back.
Julian Ward: “Robin Hood coming out sharp.”
Brick Brody: “You hesitate in a fight like this, you’re already losin’.”
3rd Minute
Robin attempts the piledriver—Sandman counters with a spinning heel kick.
Julian Ward: “Sandman adapting.”
Brick Brody: “That woke him up.”
4th–5th Minutes
Brainbuster from Robin. Superkick reversed—Sandman answers with a spinning fist.
Julian Ward: “Momentum refusing to settle.”
Brick Brody: “This is what equals look like.”
6th Minute
Clothesline by Sandman. Sharpshooter by Robin.
Julian Ward: “Submission pressure from Robin Hood.”
Brick Brody: “Bend him till he breaks.”
Sandman does not submit.
7th–8th Minutes
Sleeper from Sandman. Superkick from Robin. Bulldog. Another Sharpshooter.
Julian Ward: “Neither man willing to concede oxygen.”
Brick Brody: “You quit breathin’, you quit losin’.”
Sandman survives again.
9th–10th Minutes
Front kick. Sleeper. Brainbuster. The pace accelerates.
Julian Ward: “This match tightening.”
Brick Brody: “They’re diggin’ deep.”
11th–12th Minutes
Superkick lands. Sleep dust to the eyes—Robin answers with another kick.
Julian Ward: “Desperation showing.”
Brick Brody: “That’s not desperation. That’s survival.”
13th–15th Minutes
Clotheslines traded. DDTs snap bodies to canvas. GO TO SLEEP meets another brainbuster.
Julian Ward: “Neither man finding separation.”
Brick Brody: “Then it comes down to who blinks.”
16th Minute
DDT from Robin. Near fall.
Julian Ward: “So close!”
Brick Brody: “Hit him again!”
Sandman kicks out.
17th–19th Minutes
Superkick countered. Spinning fist. German suplex. Another near fall.
Julian Ward: “Both champions refusing to fade.”
Brick Brody: “Some guys don’t know when to stay down.”
20th–21st Minutes
Bulldog attempt stopped. German suplex reversed. Another spinning fist.
Julian Ward: “Exhaustion setting in.”
Brick Brody: “This is where mistakes get punished.”
22nd Minute
Robin lifts—senton crashes down.
The cover.
1…
2…
3.
The bell rings.
Julian Ward: “Robin Hood survives Sandman and advances in the Mythic Crown Tournament.”
Brick Brody: “That wasn’t pretty. That was necessary.”
Robin rolls off the cover, chest heaving. He does not celebrate. He sits for a moment—then rises, eyes fixed forward.
Julian Ward: “The outlaw moves on… but the cost is written all over him.”
ROBIN HOOD DEFEATS SANDMAN VIA PINFALL AT THE 22-MINUTE MARK.
The first chapter of the Mythic Crown closes—
not with triumph,
but with endurance.
The camera returns to the commentary desk. The arena is quieter now—exhausted, marked by consequence.
Julian Ward:
“Tonight, the road to Oathbound began with clarity—and with cost.”
He takes a breath.
Julian Ward:
“Mordred endured power and interference to advance. Morgana Le Fay asserted the Broken Crown’s influence. Frankenstein’s Monster dismantled Camelot’s shield. King Arthur survived a relentless challenge. And in our main event—Robin Hood outlasted Sandman.”
Brick nods slowly.
Brick Brody:
“Every one of ‘em paid somethin’, Julian. Some just paid less.”
Julian continues.
Julian Ward:
“And in our North Star Tag Team Championship match, the Queens of Despair earned a countout victory over the Blonde Bombshells.”
A pause.
Julian Ward:
“The titles remain with the champions—but momentum now belongs to the challengers.”
Brick smirks.
Brick Brody:
“Gold stayed put. Message didn’t.”
Julian turns forward.
Julian Ward:
“The Mythic Crown Tournament is underway. The field is narrowing. And the consequences are only beginning to surface.”
Brick leans in.
Brick Brody:
“And next week? We add more fuel.”
Julian Ward:
“Next week, we will reveal the first five participants in the Eternal Flame Battle Royal—set for Oathbound.”
Brick Brody:
“Ten men. One walks out burnin’. That’s honest work.”
Julian delivers the final note.
Julian Ward:
“And the Universal Champion—Mean Jack Mason—will appear live on Dark Fable.”
Brick’s grin is sharp.
Brick Brody:
“That man don’t show up unless somebody’s about to regret it.”
Julian closes, measured and final.
Julian Ward:
“This is no longer prophecy. It is process. And the road to Oathbound is tightening.”
The camera cuts to the empty ring—scuffed, scarred, waiting.
Torchlight flickers.
Brick Brody:
“Sleep while you can.”
Fade to black.
The Merry Band’s dressing room is a pocket of warmth in a building made of stone and bad memories.
Robin Hood leans back against a bench, still dressed for war—hood down, face paint stark under the harsh lights. His chest rises and falls like he’s trying to convince himself it’s over. The quiver and bow are set aside, but not far—nothing ever truly gets put away in this place.
Friar Tuck is the first to break the silence, lifting a bottle in a quiet toast.
Little John stands watch near the lockers, arms crossed, scanning the room the way a soldier scans a tree line. Celebration, for him, is vigilance with a softer edge.
Then—
A knock. Not loud. Not hesitant. Controlled. Intentional.
Tuck’s smile fades as he moves to the door. He opens it a crack.
Lark of Sherwood stands there, calm as a blade still sheathed. Beside her is Maid Marion.
Marion doesn’t posture. She doesn’t smirk. She doesn’t play to the room.
She steps inside like she owns the air.
Lark stays near the doorway—half guard, half witness—her eyes flicking once to Robin, then to the corners of the room. Calculating. Measuring.
Robin’s grin is gone before Marion even reaches him.
He stands slowly, like he’s trying to rise without making noise. His gaze drops—just for a moment—as if the weight of everything he didn’t say finally found a place to land.
Little John shifts one step forward, ready to intervene on instinct alone.
Tuck raises a hand—gentle, but firm—quietly telling him wait.
Marion stops an arm’s length from Robin.
For a beat, nobody speaks. The room hums with electricity from the overhead light, and something darker underneath it.
Marion’s voice is low. Steady. Not angry—worse than angry.
“It's time for us to talk.”
Robin doesn’t look up right away.
When he finally does, the confidence is still there—buried under exhaustion and something dangerously close to regret.
Lark’s hand rests near the edge of her cloak, a silent reminder that this isn’t a conversation Robin can dodge… and it isn’t a confrontation Marion came to lose.
The door eases shut behind them with a soft click.
The room suddenly feels smaller.
END SCENE
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