The lights in the Bell Centre dimmed. A brief static fuzz overtook the screen, followed by the pounding riff of “Cult of Personality.” The Chicago crowd erupted, leaping to their feet as CM Punk emerged through the curtain. Clad in black wrestling boots, “KING ME” emblazoned on his hoodie, and tape wrapped tight around his wrists, Punk stood on the stage for a moment, soaking it in. His eyes swept across the arena, jaw clenched tight—not with arrogance, but with resolve. He dropped to one knee, and checked his bare wrist.

CM Punk: It’s….

Crowd: Clobbering Time!

Christy Hemme: Making his way to the ring, from Chicago, Illinois… C.M. Punk!

Punk slid under the bottom rope, popped to his feet, and demanded a microphone. A stagehand tossed it from ringside, and Punk caught it with one hand. His music faded, but the chants rolled on.

Crowd: CM PUNK! CM PUNK! CM PUNK!

Punk tilted his head and smirked.

CM Punk: Is it a great day to be alive on a Monday night in Montreal or what?

The crowd continued their cheering, so Punk forged ahead.

CM Punk: I’ve had to sit at home and do some reflecting since I lost my EBWF World Championship to Adam Cole.

The crowd booed at the mention of Cole’s name.

CM Punk: And I wondered what I’m still doing this for. It’s not the legacy. It’s not the money. It’s not even the ice-cold disdain I have for certain people who couldn’t lace up my boots but still think they can shout my name to stay relevant.

He smirked again, looking directly into the camera as though to let the person he was referencing know that they knew who they were. Then he turned his attention back to the crowd, pointing into the highest seats.

CM Punk: No. It’s you. All of you. Professional wrestling is in my blood. And if I had to confess to being anything other than a self made man, I’d say you made me. You stuck with me. You remembered me when this whole industry wanted you to forget. So now? I’m walking back into this ring not just as the Best in the World, not just as a former EBWF World Champion… I’m walking in as the whole fucking problem.

The crowd roared at the on-air f-bomb and Punk continued.

CM Punk: Now I’ve heard all the buzz about this year’s King of the Ring tournament. “Adam Cole is a new kind of champion. Maybe a new generation’s rising,” they say. “Think of all the new matchups we could see,” they say. And believe me, I’m not against that. Wrestling should evolve. It’s just that sometimes, fellas, greatness can’t be improved upon. So to all the young bucks in this tournament trying to carve out their path, I have just one piece of advice: Watch your step.

Punk looked straight down the lens with intensity.

CM Punk: Because there’s a difference between being hungry and being ready. Isn’t there, Austin Gunn?

The crowd gave a mixed reaction at the former EBWF World Champion’s name.

CM Punk: Now, Austin—I’m going to talk to you like a man, because I want you to understand what’s about to happen. I don’t want to hear excuses in the aftermath. I don’t want tweets with crying emojis or some backstage sob story about how you were “so close.” I want you to listen, and I want you to remember.

Punk tapped the side of head.

CM Punk: Your past doesn’t matter. Your former world championship status? Doesn’t matter. You’re not just stepping in the ring with a guy having a comeback. You’re stepping in the ring with a legacy. You’re not just facing someone with a chip on his shoulder. You’re facing a man who’s been where you’re trying to go… and I got bad news for you, Austin. I burned the roadmap on the way back. You want this win? You think knocking off CM Punk makes your year, maybe your career? Cool.

He laughed bitterly.

CM Punk: But here’s the part they didn’t teach you in wrestling school, kid. I don’t lay down. I don’t hand out moments like Halloween candy. And I sure as hell don’t lose to some mullet-rockin’, TikTok-postin’, wannabe cowboy who thinks sharing a last name with Billy Gunn means anything in this ring.

The crowd gave an audible reaction.

CM Punk: What? He’s easily the worst member of DX!

The crowd laughed and Punk trained his eyes back on the camera.

CM Punk: You see, Austin, I’ve been in this business long enough to know the types. The guys who swagger in with second-generation blood and think that’s going to protect them. That legacy doesn’t make you bulletproof. It makes you a nepo baby. When you walk into this ring, against me, in the first round of a tournament that is soaked in prestige and crowned in suffering? You better come prepared to bleed.

He pushed his hair back off his face.

CM Punk: Because this isn’t a joke. This isn’t a frat house. This is combat, and I don’t need a dad in my corner to fight my battles. Never had one, and I don’t intend to start now. I’ve done it all on my own. I’ve crossed every single bridge I’ve come to, and burned it behind me. Austin, I’m not mad at you. You’re young. You’ve got confidence. Swagger. A microphone and a few witty one-liners. But you’ve never been in a fight like this. Not with someone like me.

Punk was intense and began pacing.

CM Punk: Not with someone who will do anything to get that title back around his waist. You see, King of the Ring isn’t about having a cool entrance or slapping hands on your way to the ring. It’s about endurance. It’s about grit. It’s about how much punishment you can take, how deep you’re willing to dig when your body’s screaming and your ego’s cracked wide open. And spoiler alert, Austin—you don’t have the gas for that ride.

He grinned.

CM Punk: Because I’ve watched you. I’ve studied you. You play the fool, you laugh through your matches, you lean on name value and hope the crowd bails you out. That doesn’t work against me. This ring? It’s mine. This company? It’s mine. And this tournament?

A CM Punk chant went up from the crowd.

CM Punk: You guessed it. Mine. I didn’t come back just to wave to the crowd and relive some glory days. I came back to put a crown on my head and make everyone in the locker room remember what danger looks like when it walks and talks like a man possessed. You think you’re ready, Austin? You think this is your way back to the big time? Your moment?

He shook his head.

CM Punk: Let me break this down for you, plain and simple. Your moment doesn’t end with your hand raised. It ends with your body folded, your shoulders pinned, and your eyes staring up at the lights while your dreams of royalty circle the drain. And when it’s over? When the bell rings and the ref lifts my hand in victory? You’ll remember this night as the night that I broke you.

His voice became more deliberate.

CM Punk: Another never-was whose ambition outweighed his ability. Another body in the graveyard I’ve been digging since 2005. So go ahead. Fire up the playlist. Post a funny video. Talk your talk. But when that bell rings? I own you. And after I choke you out or drop you with the GTS—hell, maybe both—this tournament? This crown? I take it. I work my way back to the championship that’s mine. Because when I win King of the Ring? It will be just another reminder that the Best in the World never concedes a battle… he just reclaims the throne.

Punk dropped the mic with a loud thud as “Cult of Personality” hit again. He climbed the turnbuckle, arms raised, staring down the camera with a steely glare. The crowd chanted his name as the scene faded to black.