The Rise of the Lion

by IAmMattis

Watch Zlatan Ibrahimovic's journey from being a young soccer player to wrestling icon overseas with WWF later known as WWE. I don't own rights to wwe or Zlatan as he is a real life person. it's a AU story. I can't add Zlatan in the pairing so I'm going to listen him as original character. it's a gradual build up of romance between Zlatan and Trish.

73. The Grandest Stage Of Them All

March 30, 2003. WrestleMania 19.

The sound of roaring fans echoed through the corridors of Safeco Field as Zlatan Ibrahimović, dressed in his street attire, pushed open the door to his locker room. The champion moved with a quiet intensity, the echoes of the outside world fading behind him. In his hand, he carried a black duffel bag, the fabric worn from the countless miles it had traveled with him. He crossed the room, his footsteps steady and purposeful, and placed the bag on the bench.

With deliberate care, Zlatan unzipped the duffel and reached inside, retrieving the most coveted prize in the world of sports entertainment — the WWE Championship. The gold shimmered under the fluorescent lights, a testament to the journey that had brought him here, to the grandest stage of them all. He hung the title belt on a hook on the wall, its presence dominating the room like an unspoken challenge.

Out at ringside, the commentary team kept up their rapid-fire banter as the energy in the arena continued to build. Michael Cole's voice cut through the noise, broadcasting to millions of viewers worldwide.

"And there he is, the WWE Champion, Zlatan Ibrahimović," Cole announced with excitement. "Arriving here at Safeco Field. He'll defend the WWE title later tonight against Kurt Angle and Brock Lesnar in a triple threat match."

Tazz, his co-commentator, leaned forward, his tone just as eager. "That match will be a classic, Cole," he agreed. "Three of the most purely talented athletes in WWE today, going at it for the most prestigious prize in this business."

Zlatan took a deep breath and sat down on the bench, his eyes never leaving the championship belt. He thought about the historic rookie year he'd had — a journey unlike any other. From his surprise debut to his rise to the top, Zlatan had defied expectations, breaking records, and winning over legions of fans with his unique blend of athleticism, charisma, and unyielding self-belief.

He felt the weight of the moment settle on his shoulders, not as a burden but as a crown. This wasn't just another title defense; it was a defining moment, a chance to cement his place in the annals of wrestling history. Kurt Angle and Brock Lesnar — two men who, like him, were forces of nature. Both hungry, both determined to seize the moment for themselves. But Zlatan knew he had something they didn't — a confidence that bordered on defiance, an unshakeable belief that he was destined to reign supreme.

The sounds of the arena seeped into the room — the cheers, the chants, the anticipation of the spectacle to come. Zlatan stared at the championship belt hanging on the wall, its polished surface reflecting the light, a gleaming symbol of everything he had fought for, everything he had earned.

He knew tonight would not be easy. The odds were against him; the challenge was immense. But he was Zlatan Ibrahimović, the WWE Champion. And if there was one thing he thrived on, it was proving people wrong.

His gaze remained fixed on the title, his expression unreadable, his mind a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions. Tonight, he would step into the ring with two of the toughest competitors the WWE had ever seen. Tonight, he would fight with everything he had, with all the passion, skill, and heart that had brought him to this moment.

Zlatan leaned back slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips. No matter what happened, he knew one thing for certain: when the dust settled and the smoke cleared, the world would know why Zlatan Ibrahimović was the WWE Champion.

The chapter ends with Zlatan staring at the championship, the most coveted title in the business, the weight of his journey and the promise of what was to come reflected in his eyes.

XXXX

The celebration of WrestleMania 19 raged on. The fans were still roaring, their cheers echoing throughout Safeco Field as Trish Stratus held her newly won Women's Championship high above her head. Her smile lit up the arena, a testament to her incredible fourth title victory in a hard-fought triple-threat match. But while the crowd's attention was on the ring, a different kind of tension simmered backstage.

Brock Lesnar, the winner of this year's Royal Rumble, pushed open the door to his locker room, his broad shoulders nearly brushing the frame. Dressed in a black tank top and track pants, his expression was unreadable, a mix of focus and determination etched across his face. He stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind him, muffling the noise of the celebration outside. He dropped his duffel bag onto the floor, the heavy thud echoing in the small room.

Lesnar stood still for a moment, the muscles in his jaw working as he took a deep breath. He had been here before, felt this same energy coursing through his veins. But tonight was different. Tonight was about redemption. He took a seat on the bench, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, his massive hands clasped together.

It had been a long road back to this point — a road that began in November at Survivor Series when he had lost the WWE Championship. That night had left a bitter taste in his mouth, a stark reminder that even a juggernaut like him could be brought down. But Brock was not one to stay down. Losing the title had been a setback, but it had also been a spark, igniting a fire in him that only grew stronger with each passing day.

Out at ringside, Michael Cole picked up the commentary, his voice filled with excitement and reverence for the journey Brock had undertaken. "Since November, Brock Lesnar has been on a mission," Cole began. "The winner of the Royal Rumble is now just moments away from the opportunity to get back to the top of the mountain."

Tazz chimed in, his voice brimming with anticipation. "And what a road it's been, Cole. Brock Lesnar has clawed his way back, fought every challenge, every obstacle in his path, and now he's ready to reclaim what he believes is rightfully his."

Brock's mind wandered back to the Royal Rumble, where he had fought tooth and nail against twenty-nine other men, outlasting them all to earn this chance, this shot at redemption. That victory was a statement, a declaration that Brock Lesnar was still the most dangerous man in WWE, still a force to be reckoned with. But tonight, he needed more than statements. He needed to win.

He thought about Kurt Angle and Zlatan Ibrahimović, the men he would face tonight. Both were formidable in their own right — Angle, a decorated amateur wrestler and former champion, and Zlatan, the current WWE Champion who had blazed his own trail of dominance. Brock respected them both, but he feared neither. He was the Beast Incarnate, and tonight he would prove why.

His gaze shifted to the duffel bag on the floor, knowing inside it was all he needed to prepare for war. Brock could feel the electricity in the air, the anticipation building with every minute. The crowd outside, the millions watching at home — they all knew that tonight was going to be special. They all knew that Brock Lesnar had one thing on his mind: victory.

As he sat there, his breathing steady, his heart pounding with the rhythm of the arena's chants, he knew this was his moment. He had been to the top once before, and he knew what it took to stay there. But to lose and then climb back? To fight through the setbacks and emerge even stronger? That was the mark of a true champion. And Brock Lesnar was ready to prove it.

The chapter closes with Brock staring ahead, his mind focused, his body tense like a coiled spring ready to explode. The path had been long, the challenges many, but now he stood on the edge of glory once more. Tonight, Brock Lesnar would not be denied. Tonight, he would reclaim his place at the pinnacle of WWE.

XXXX

Backstage at Safeco Field, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement and anticipation. WrestleMania 19 had already delivered some unforgettable moments — none more so than the thrilling contest between Shawn Michaels and Chris Jericho, with Michaels emerging victorious in his first WrestleMania since his return. But while the fans roared in celebration, another story was unfolding behind the curtain.

In the locker room of Team Angle, Kurt Angle stood with his proteges, Charlie Haas and Shelton Benjamin, a proud smile stretching across his face. The sweat on Haas and Benjamin's brows was still fresh from their hard-fought victory, the WWE Tag Team Titles gleaming on their shoulders. They had just retained their championships in a grueling triple threat match, and Kurt could not have been prouder.

"You guys did it," Kurt said, clapping them both on the back. "You did exactly what we set out to do. You retained those titles and proved once again why Team Angle is the most dominant force in WWE."

Haas and Benjamin grinned, their youthful energy and confidence radiating. They had delivered on the biggest stage of them all, and now their mentor was up next. Kurt Angle was ready to complete the clean sweep, to bring home the WWE Championship and make it a night of total triumph for Team Angle.

"Now it's my turn," Kurt continued, a determined glint in his eyes. "Lesnar and Zlatan — they're both good, no doubt. They're talented, they're tough… but they're not me. I've faced some of the best in this business, and I've beaten most of them. Tonight, I'm going out there to remind everyone exactly who I am."

Benjamin, always the fiery one, nodded enthusiastically. "That's right, Kurt. You've done it all before, and you're gonna do it again. We've got your back, and we know you're bringing that title home."

Haas added, "We've done our part, and now it's your time to shine. The clean sweep is happening tonight. No one's taking that away from us."

Kurt smiled, appreciating the faith his proteges had in him. He had mentored them, trained them, and watched them grow into champions. Tonight, they had done their part — and now it was his turn to show why he was a four-time WWE Champion.

"Listen, guys," Kurt said, his tone more serious now, "this match tonight isn't just about the title. It's about proving that I'm still the best wrestler in the world. Brock Lesnar? He's a beast, no doubt. Zlatan Ibrahimović? He's had an incredible rookie year. But I've been in that ring with legends, and I've beaten them. Tonight, I'm going out there to prove that when it comes to the WWE Championship, I'm still the man to beat."

Kurt's words hung in the air, his confidence palpable, his eyes blazing with intensity. He had worked too hard and come too far to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. The roar of the crowd outside only fueled his desire further. He could feel the adrenaline starting to build, his body preparing for the battle ahead.

He looked at Haas and Benjamin one last time, his expression fierce but calm. "Tonight," he said, "you're looking at the next WWE Champion."

The proteges nodded, sharing in their mentor's conviction, knowing that Kurt Angle was a man on a mission. He had nothing to prove, but everything to gain. Tonight, Team Angle was going for the clean sweep, and Kurt intended to make sure they got it.

The chapter ends with Kurt Angle turning to face the door, ready to step into the spotlight once more, his mind focused on the task ahead. For him, this wasn't just another match. It was his moment to reclaim the WWE Title and to remind the world why he was one of the greatest of all time.

XXXX

The night had already been filled with unforgettable moments, and the tension in Safeco Field was electric as the biggest match of the evening loomed on the horizon. The WWE Championship was on the line in a triple threat match — a clash of titans that promised to be a historic main event. As the crowd buzzed with anticipation, the camera cut to a backstage corridor where the reigning WWE Champion, Zlatan Ibrahimović, made his way toward the entrance.

Zlatan was dressed for battle. His ring gear — black and gold tights, MMA gloves, and a trench coat in blue and yellow, a nod to his heritage — flowed behind him as he walked, the coat emblazoned with a lion emblem on the back, a symbol of his unyielding spirit and pride. In his right hand, he clutched the WWE Championship, the leather strap draped over his shoulder, and the gold plate catching the bright hallway lights.

Michael Cole's voice broke over the roar of the crowd. "And there he is — the WWE Champion, Zlatan Ibrahimović. The man who has defied all odds this year, and tonight, he looks to cement his legacy at WrestleMania."

Zlatan's expression was focused, his eyes straight ahead, his jaw set with determination. He knew what was at stake — not just the title, but his place in history. This was his night, his moment to prove that he belonged at the very top of the WWE mountain.

The scene cut to another part of the backstage area, where Brock Lesnar was finishing his final preparations. Dressed in his black and white gear, his muscles tense, he wrapped his wrists with white athletic tape, the methodical movements of his hands reflecting his intense focus. His eyes burned with determination — this wasn't just another match; it was a battle for redemption, a chance to reclaim his status as the most dominant force in WWE.

Michael Cole continued, "And Brock Lesnar, who has been on an absolute tear since winning the Royal Rumble, says this is a match he has to win. He's determined to get back to the top, and tonight is his opportunity."

Brock finished taping his wrists, flexing his massive hands as he stood up, ready for war. He knew that tonight was his moment to seize, to reclaim the championship he had lost and to prove once again why he was known as The Beast Incarnate. He pushed open the door of his locker room, stepping into the corridor, his face set in a grim, fierce expression. There was no fear, no hesitation — only the hunger of a predator preparing to strike.

The camera cut again, this time to Kurt Angle, pacing in his locker room with a fierce determination in his eyes. Dressed in his signature blue singlet with the colors of the USA and the Team Angle logo prominently displayed, he looked every bit the seasoned warrior he was. A hooded jacket hung loosely over his broad shoulders, his head bowed, a veteran preparing for battle.

Michael Cole's voice filled the arena once more. "And Kurt Angle, who has been on a relentless quest to regain the WWE Title since losing it to Zlatan Ibrahimović at the Royal Rumble. A man who has held that title three times before, and tonight, he's looking for a fourth."

Kurt pulled the hood of his jacket down, revealing his intense, steely gaze. Every step he had taken since the Royal Rumble had led him back to this point. Tonight, it was about reclaiming his throne, proving that he was still the best in the world, the true WWE Champion. His eyes flicked up toward the camera, and his face broke into a determined smile — he knew this was his chance to show why he was one of the greatest of all time.

The three competitors, each with their own motivations, prepared for the battle of a lifetime. The energy backstage was thick with tension, every step taking them closer to the main event, closer to the moment when everything would be decided. The stakes had never been higher, and the world was watching, ready to witness a match for the ages.

XXXX

The lights in Safeco Field dimmed as the giant TitanTrons above the entrance ramp flickered to life, and the crowd's anticipation reached a fever pitch. The epic promo package for the WWE Championship match began to play, the journey of three of WWE's biggest stars leading to this moment at WrestleMania 19.

The screen opened with dramatic footage from the Royal Rumble. Brock Lesnar, fresh off a dominant performance, stood poised in the ring as The Undertaker, having just eliminated his brother Kane, turned back toward Lesnar. In a moment of sheer power and determination, Lesnar lifted The Undertaker and threw him over the top rope, securing his victory. As Lesnar celebrated, Jim Ross's voice rang out, full of excitement:

"Brock Lesnar has won the Royal Rumble! Brock Lesnar is now in the main event at WrestleMania!"

The scene shifted rapidly, cutting to Zlatan Ibrahimović standing tall in the ring, delivering his finishing move, The Lion's Roar — a devastating superkick — to Kurt Angle. The referee counted: "1…2…3!" The bell rang, and the crowd erupted as Zlatan climbed to the second rope in the corner, hoisting the WWE Championship high into the air. Michael Cole's voice echoed in the background:

"History is made tonight! Zlatan Ibrahimović has done it! He is the first Swedish WWE Champion in history, and all doubters and cynics be damned!"

The footage transitioned to the SmackDown after the Royal Rumble, where Brock Lesnar confronted Zlatan in the ring. The two titans stood face-to-face, the tension palpable. Lesnar, in his intense and low growl, reminded Zlatan of what he had said before SummerSlam:

"It doesn't matter if we collide after SummerSlam or at WrestleMania. You said you'd show me that in the jungle, the lion is the predator and I'm the prey. Well, let me tell you something about prey, Zlatan. When prey is wounded, it's at its most dangerous, because that's when it fights back the hardest."

Just as Lesnar turned to leave, Zlatan called after him, his voice dripping with confidence.

"Hold on, Brock. I acknowledge what you're saying, so let me give you a few pieces of advice. One, stay healthy. Two, get ready, because at WrestleMania, the lion will roar the loudest on the grandest stage of them all."

The promo cut to March 20 on SmackDown, where Kurt Angle interrupted a promo Zlatan was delivering, reminding him of his recent non-title victory over the champion in Pittsburgh, a win achieved with a crafty small package. Angle, with that trademark smirk, revealed his trump card:

"I went to Stephanie McMahon's office and laid out a valid argument for why I should be in the WWE Title picture. And you know what? Stephanie agreed. So it's not going to be a one-on-one match. Oh no. It's going to be a triple threat match."

The footage shifted to an archive clip of SmackDown General Manager Stephanie McMahon, her voice echoing over the arena:

"Zlatan Ibrahimović will defend the WWE Title against Kurt Angle and Brock Lesnar. A triple threat match for the WWE Title at WrestleMania!"

The haunting opening riff of "Crack Addict" by Limp Bizkit played in the background, intensifying the dramatic footage of the three men involved. The screen showed Team Angle — Kurt, Haas, and Benjamin — overwhelming both Zlatan and Lesnar ten days before WrestleMania. Angle delivered an Angle Slam to Lesnar onto a steel chair, while Haas and Benjamin executed their signature double-team move on Zlatan. The camera zoomed in on Kurt Angle standing tall, flanked by his proteges, as he hoisted the WWE Championship into the air. Tazz's voice overlaid the footage:

"Kurt Angle just sent a clear message of how badly he wants to be WWE Champion again."

Next, the promo flashed back to footage of the past battles between Zlatan and Kurt. Unforgiven 2002. 30 minute Iron Man match on Smackdown Royal Rumble and Hardcore Match on Smackdown. then to March 13, capturing the intense moment during Zlatan's entrance at ringside, where he defiantly held the WWE Championship high, locking eyes with a determined Kurt Angle from across the ring. The intensity was palpable, the championship within touching distance for both men.

The screen cut to three days ago, where backstage chaos reigned. In the midst of a wild brawl with John Cena, Brock Lesnar was blindsided by Kurt Angle, who struck him viciously with a 2x4 to the midsection. Just moments later, Zlatan retaliated by striking Angle in the back with a sledgehammer, following up with a brutal shot to Angle's midsection. Zlatan knelt down beside the fallen Angle, his voice cold and determined:

"Three days, Kurt. You've got three days. I'll see you at WrestleMania."

The promo reached its climax with a rapid montage of the three men in action: Lesnar's raw power, Angle's technical prowess, and Zlatan's undeniable charisma. The narrator's voice boomed:

"The Lion of Rosengård. The Olympic Hero. The Next Big Thing. Three men. One goal. Who will be the king of the WWE jungle?"

The screen faded to black, lingering on a shot of the WWE Championship with Zlatan's name proudly displayed on the nameplate. The final image was a stark reminder of what was at stake — the most prestigious prize in WWE, the ultimate symbol of greatness.

As the promo ended, the lights in Safeco Field slowly returned, and the crowd's anticipation boiled over. The stage was set, the storylines woven, and the stakes laid bare. It was time for the main event — time to see who would emerge as the king of the WWE jungle.

The air in Safeco Field was thick with anticipation as the crowd of 54,000 fans buzzed with excitement. The moment everyone had been waiting for was finally here: the main event for the WWE Championship. The energy was electric, the tension almost tangible as the ring announcer, Tony Chimel, took his place in the center of the ring, microphone in hand.

The bell rang, signaling the beginning of what would undoubtedly be one of the most intense matches in WrestleMania history. Tony Chimel's voice boomed through the arena, commanding the attention of every fan in attendance.

"The following contest is a Triple Threat Match for the WWE Championship!" he announced, his words met with a roar of approval from the audience. "In this match, there are no disqualifications and no count outs. The first man to score a pinfall or submission on either opponent will be the WWE Champion!"

The fans, already on the edge of their seats, erupted into cheers as they realized that anything could happen in this match. The rules were clear: it would be an all-out war with no room for hesitation or mistakes.

Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of Kurt Angle's entrance theme, "Medals," blasted through the stadium speakers, and the crowd's reaction shifted. The familiar, defiant chants of "You suck!" began to echo throughout Safeco Field as Kurt Angle emerged on the entrance stage, his trademark intensity radiating from every pore. Dressed in his hooded jacket, the Olympic Hero looked every bit the warrior he was known to be.

"Making his way to the ring, from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, weighing in at 237 pounds… Kurt Angle!" Tony Chimel's announcement was nearly drowned out by the sea of boos and chants directed at Angle, but the Olympic gold medalist paid them no mind. This was his moment, and he was focused on one thing: regaining the WWE Championship.

As Angle pointed his fingers to the sky, the arena lit up with a dazzling display of pyrotechnics, perfectly timed to explode just as his hands reached their peak. The crowd might have been against him, but there was no denying the spectacle of his entrance. It was a visual representation of the greatness that had defined his career.

With his hood pulled back, revealing the intense determination etched on his face, Angle began his march down the long aisle leading to the ring. Each step was measured, purposeful, as if he was already envisioning the victory that awaited him.

"Kurt Angle has been on a mission since losing the gold to Zlatan Ibrahimović at the Royal Rumble," Michael Cole's voice cut through the noise, providing commentary for the millions watching at home. "He's been laser-focused on regaining the WWE Title for the fourth time in his illustrious career."

Tazz, ever the astute observer, added, "No doubt about it, Cole. Kurt Angle has proven time and again that he's a big match athlete. In the three years since he stepped foot in WWE, Angle's been in some of the most high-pressure situations, and he's thrived every time. This is his kind of match."

As Kurt Angle reached the ring, he paused for a moment at ringside, his eyes locked on the squared circle where he had both conquered and been conquered. The chants of "You suck!" continued, but they only seemed to fuel him further. He was used to the jeers, the criticism, the doubt — and he had turned it all into motivation.

Angle climbed the steel steps and entered the ring, shedding his hooded jacket to reveal his blue singlet, emblazoned with the colors of the United States and the Team Angle logo. He stood in the center of the ring, soaking in the atmosphere, letting the energy of the night course through him. This was WrestleMania, and he was ready.

The camera zoomed in on Kurt's face, capturing the steely resolve in his eyes. He knew what he had to do. He had been here before, in these high-stakes situations, and he had emerged victorious more often than not. Tonight, he intended to do it again.

As his music faded, the chants of the crowd did not. Kurt Angle stared up the ramp, knowing that his opponents were soon to follow, but he was unfazed. This was his stage, his opportunity, and he was prepared to take it.

The fans continued to chant, the excitement building with every passing second. The stage was set for what would undoubtedly be an epic battle for the WWE Championship. Kurt Angle was ready to reclaim his throne, but he knew that he would have to go through two of the toughest competitors in WWE to do it.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

As the anticipation in Safeco Field continued to build, the crowd's energy reached a fever pitch. Kurt Angle stood in the ring, his steely gaze locked on the entrance ramp, waiting for his opponents to arrive. The atmosphere was electric, every fan in attendance on the edge of their seat, knowing that the main event for the WWE Championship was about to get underway.

Suddenly, the arena lights dimmed slightly, and the powerful, bass-heavy beats of Brock Lesnar's theme song, "Next Big Thing," blasted through the speakers. The titantron flashed with images of Lesnar's dominance, his path of destruction leading up to this moment. The fans erupted into a mix of cheers and gasps, fully aware of the devastation this man was capable of.

Tazz's voice cut through the roar of the crowd, full of intensity. "Well, here comes the pain!"

As the music swelled, Brock Lesnar appeared on the stage, a towering figure of raw power and intensity. His physique was as imposing as ever, every muscle seemingly ready to burst with the sheer force of his presence. The camera zoomed in on his face, capturing the cold, focused expression of a man who knew exactly what he was here to do.

Tony Chimel's voice boomed through the arena, adding to the grandeur of the moment. "Making his way to the ring, from Minneapolis, Minnesota, weighing in at 295 pounds… Brock Lesnar!"

The crowd's cheers grew louder as Lesnar paused at the top of the ramp, taking in the sight of the packed stadium. His eyes were laser-focused on the ring, where his destiny awaited. With a sudden burst of energy, Lesnar let out a primal battle cry, the sound echoing through the arena as he pumped himself up. He began his march down the ramp, his powerful strides filled with purpose and intent.

"Brock Lesnar has been waiting for this moment since Survivor Series," Michael Cole narrated, his voice filled with excitement and respect for the journey Lesnar had taken to get here. "Having won the Royal Rumble in January, he is eager to climb back to the top of the mountain. It's Brock's first WrestleMania, and you can bet he's ready to make it a night to remember."

Lesnar's focus never wavered as he approached the ring, his expression a mask of determination. This was his opportunity to reclaim the glory that had been taken from him, to prove that he was still the most dominant force in WWE. He had fought tooth and nail to earn this shot, and now nothing was going to stand in his way.

Tazz chimed in, his tone full of admiration for the athlete before him. "Brock Lesnar looks ready, Cole. He looks like he's going to war. This guy is a freak of nature, and tonight, he's got one goal: to walk out of here as WWE Champion."

As Lesnar reached ringside, he hopped onto the apron with a single, effortless leap, showcasing the incredible athleticism that had made him a sensation since his debut. He stepped over the ropes and entered the ring, locking eyes with Kurt Angle, who stood across from him. The two titans stared each other down, the tension between them almost palpable.

Lesnar's chest heaved with controlled breaths, his eyes never leaving Angle's. He could feel the weight of the moment, the significance of what was about to happen. This wasn't just another match — this was his moment to reclaim his place at the top, to prove that he was still the most dangerous man in WWE.

As his music faded, the crowd's energy didn't. They knew what was coming: a battle of epic proportions between three of the most formidable competitors in WWE history. Lesnar and Angle continued their silent exchange, the mutual respect and rivalry between them clear in their locked gazes.

Brock Lesnar was ready. This was his time, his moment to seize. WrestleMania was the grandest stage of them all, and tonight, he was going to show the world why he was called The Next Big Thing.

The atmosphere inside Safeco Field reached a fever pitch as the anticipation for the WWE Championship match continued to mount. Brock Lesnar and Kurt Angle stood in the ring, their eyes locked on the entrance ramp, waiting for the final competitor to make his entrance. The crowd buzzed with excitement, knowing that the champion was moments away from joining the fray.

Suddenly, the haunting opening beats of "The Lion" by RZA and GZA, reminiscent of "4th Chamber," began to pulse through the stadium speakers. The crowd erupted into a chorus of cheers and chants of "Ibra! Ibra!" as the WWE Champion, Zlatan Ibrahimović, stepped onto the stage. The title belt gleamed in his hand as he surveyed the arena, his gaze intense, his expression filled with purpose.

"And from Malmö, Sweden," Tony Chimel's voice boomed over the noise of the crowd, "weighing in at 255 pounds… the WWE Champion… Zlatan Ibrahimović!"

Zlatan stood tall on the stage, soaking in the chants of his name, the fans rallying behind the Lion of Rosengård. He lifted the WWE Championship high above his head, letting the weight of the moment wash over him. As he began his walk down the ramp, he spotted several Swedish flags waving in the sea of spectators, along with signs showing the fans' unwavering support.

Some signs read, "THE LION WILL ROAR!" and "ZLATAN: KING OF THE JUNGLE," while others bore messages like, "FROM MALMÖ TO WRESTLEMANIA" and "THE PRIDE OF ROSENGÅRD."

Michael Cole's voice carried over the sound of the cheering fans, reflecting on Zlatan's meteoric rise. "What a journey it's been for the Lion of Rosengård. Since his WWE debut just last year, he's been on an absolute tear. A former Tag Team Champion, an Intercontinental Champion, and now, the WWE Champion. He's beaten some of the biggest names in this industry — Stone Cold Steve Austin, Chris Jericho, Triple H, Booker T… There's no one more focused, more intense, or with a greater will to win than Zlatan Ibrahimović."

As Zlatan made his way closer to the ring, he paused briefly, acknowledging the support of his fans with a nod. He could feel the electricity of the moment, the weight of expectations, and the pride of carrying the title into his first WrestleMania main event. This was his night to show the world what he was made of.

Reaching the ring, Zlatan climbed onto the apron and stepped up to the second rope. He held the WWE Championship high above his head, and a sea of flashbulbs went off from the audience, capturing the moment for eternity. His confidence was palpable; he looked every bit the champion he was.

Tazz chimed in with admiration, "The lion is in his den, Cole, and he looks ready. You can see it in his eyes. He knows what's at stake tonight."

Michael Cole continued, "The pride of Malmö, Sweden. Grew up just outside of Malmö. Zlatan had to sacrifice everything to be at this moment, at his first WrestleMania. He's here to show the world that he's not just here to compete — he's here to reign."

Zlatan's eyes moved toward his two challengers, Kurt Angle and Brock Lesnar, who had not taken their eyes off him since he appeared on stage. The intensity in the ring was almost overwhelming. Both men knew what kind of fight they were in for, and both knew that the champion would not go down without a battle.

With a confident stride, Zlatan entered the ring, his focus unwavering. He locked eyes with Kurt Angle, the Olympic gold medalist, and then with Brock Lesnar, the 2003 Royal Rumble winner. There was no fear in his gaze, only determination and an ironclad resolve. As he walked past them, he never broke eye contact, sending a clear message that he was ready for whatever was about to come.

Zlatan made his way to another corner, once again climbing to the second rope. He lifted the WWE Championship into the air for a second time, soaking in the sea of flashbulbs and cheers from the crowd. His confidence radiated throughout the arena, a true champion ready to defend his throne.

As Zlatan stepped down, he glanced back at Angle and Lesnar, both men staring him down, their intensity matching his own. The three of them were now inside the ring, the WWE Championship on the line, and the world was watching. The energy in Safeco Field was electric, and everyone knew they were moments away from an unforgettable clash.

The stage was set. The champion had arrived, and he was ready to roar.

The crowd inside Safeco Field buzzed with anticipation as Zlatan Ibrahimović, the reigning WWE Champion, turned to face the center of the ring. The weight of the moment was evident on his face. His body tense, his mind focused, he walked toward the center of the ring, where the assigned referee, Mike Chioda, awaited. Zlatan handed over the WWE Title, the gold gleaming under the bright lights of WrestleMania, and Mike Chioda lifted it high above his head, showing the world that this was the prize on the line tonight.

The crowd roared in approval, knowing they were about to witness something special. After a moment, Chioda passed the title to Tony Chimel at ringside, and Zlatan removed his blue and yellow coat, tossing it out of the ring. The fans cheered louder as he stood in his black and blue tights, ready for battle. The bell rang, signaling the official start of the match.

All three men stood still, their eyes darting back and forth, gauging one another. There was a tense pause, a moment where time seemed to slow. None of them wanted to make the first mistake. Kurt Angle shifted his stance slightly, his body low and ready, while Brock Lesnar flexed his massive hands, his muscles tensed like a coiled spring. Zlatan stood tall, his eyes narrowed, a calculating look on his face. The three men began to circle each other, cautious, knowing that any opening could change the course of the match.

Michael Cole's voice rang out over the cheers of the crowd, providing context to the clash unfolding before them. "This match has been in the making for months, folks. Three of the most decorated athletes in WWE history coming together tonight. Kurt Angle — six feet tall, 230 pounds from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. A six-time national champion, a member of the National Wrestling Hall of Fame, and a three-time WWE Champion."

The camera panned to Kurt, his face focused and determined, his hands poised in a grappling stance. Angle's eyes never left his opponents, always calculating, always ready.

Cole continued, "And then you have Brock Lesnar, six foot four, 295 pounds from Minneapolis, Minnesota. An All-American from the University of Minnesota, a two-time national champion, and a former WWE Champion."

The camera shifted to Lesnar, his imposing frame towering over the other two men. His intense, laser-focused gaze remained locked on Zlatan and Angle. He was like a predator, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"And then, the champion," Michael Cole went on, "Zlatan Ibrahimović — six foot five, 255 pounds from Malmö, Sweden. A talented prodigy from one of the most successful clubs in Swedish soccer history, the first-ever Swedish WWE Champion in history, and a Triple Crown Champion."

The camera closed in on Zlatan, standing tall, his expression a mixture of confidence and determination. His long hair flowed as he moved, his posture upright, his arms slightly raised, ready for anything. The crowd continued to chant his name, "Ibra! Ibra!" echoing throughout the arena.

The three men continued to circle, their eyes locked on each other, each waiting for the other to make the first move. The tension was palpable, like the calm before a storm. The crowd was on the edge of their seats, waiting to see who would strike first. No one wanted to make a mistake or take too many chances early in this match; each man knew the stakes were too high.

"They're circling each other like sharks," Tazz remarked, his voice filled with excitement. "Nobody wants to give an inch, not in a match like this."

Michael Cole nodded. "All three of these men know what's at stake tonight. The WWE Championship is on the line, and they all want to walk out of WrestleMania with the gold."

As the seconds ticked by, the tension in the ring only grew. Kurt Angle glanced between Lesnar and Zlatan, his fingers twitching, ready to pounce. Lesnar's muscles were taut, his expression fierce, his feet shifting slightly as if preparing to explode into action. Zlatan's eyes moved back and forth between his opponents, his body calm but his mind clearly working, planning his first move.

Then, almost simultaneously, all three men stopped circling. The crowd held its breath, sensing that something was about to happen. The arena was electric, thousands of eyes glued to the ring, waiting for that first burst of action.

Who would make the first move?

The silence before the storm had never felt so intense.

As the three men continued to circle each other, the tension inside Safeco Field was almost suffocating. The crowd was buzzing, eager for the action to begin, while the three competitors weighed their options, none wanting to make the first move that might lead to disaster.

Michael Cole took the moment to explain the stakes to the viewers at home. "The rules of this match are simple: there are no count-outs and no disqualifications. The first man to score a pinfall or submission will become the WWE Champion. And remember, folks, Zlatan Ibrahimović doesn't have to be involved in the decision to lose the title."

Tazz chimed in with his usual enthusiasm, "Yeah, Cole, and you can bet your last dollar that is not a position the champ likes to be in. But let's not forget, Zlatan's been in big game matches before. This ain't his first picnic. He's ready for anything these guys throw at him."

The tension continued to build as Brock Lesnar and Zlatan Ibrahimović, sensing the gravity of the moment, began exchanging heated words. Their voices, though inaudible to the crowd, were filled with intensity. Brock's expression was fierce, his mouth moving rapidly, while Zlatan, never one to back down, leaned in closer, his face a mask of defiance.

But Kurt Angle, standing off to the side, did not like being ignored. His eyes narrowed, his lips curled into a mocking smile. Seizing the moment, he shouted loudly enough for both Zlatan and Brock to hear him over the crowd's roar. "Hey! Hey! Don't forget who you're dealing with! You're the 'Next Big Thing,' right, Brock? I was the Big Thing before you even came to WWE. And you," he pointed sharply at Zlatan, "You're just a Kurt Angle wannabe!"

The crowd gasped at the audacity of Angle's words, and for a brief second, both Brock and Zlatan turned their attention away from each other and toward the Olympic Gold Medalist. Kurt's smile grew wider; he had succeeded in getting under their skin.

Sharing a quick glance, both Zlatan and Brock seemed to reach a silent agreement. They knew how much of a thorn Angle had been in their sides over the past 13 days, ever since his surprise victory over Zlatan in that non-title match. They understood that dealing with Kurt first might be the smartest move, at least temporarily. With a nod and a knowing smirk, they simultaneously lunged toward Angle.

Caught off guard by the sudden alliance, Kurt barely had time to react before the two juggernauts were upon him. Brock delivered the first blow, a massive right hand that sent Kurt staggering back. Zlatan followed up with a swift European uppercut that snapped Kurt's head back, sending him reeling into the corner.

The crowd roared as Brock and Zlatan began to double-team Angle, hammering him with a relentless barrage of punches and kicks, each taking turns landing blows to the midsection and head. Kurt tried to cover up, his arms raised defensively, but the onslaught was too much. Brock slammed a shoulder into Kurt's ribs, driving the air from his lungs, while Zlatan unleashed a series of sharp kicks to his thigh and midsection.

Michael Cole's voice rose with excitement. "And just like that, Brock Lesnar and Zlatan Ibrahimović are working together, at least for the moment, to take out the common threat, Kurt Angle!"

Tazz chuckled, "Yeah, Cole, and that's smart! Angle's been a pain in the neck for both these guys over the past few weeks. They know if they want to win this match, they gotta neutralize Kurt first. But make no mistake, this alliance won't last. Not with the WWE Title on the line."

Kurt, trapped in the corner, tried to fight back, throwing elbows and punches, but the numbers were against him. Brock and Zlatan continued their assault, each hit harder than the last. The crowd cheered wildly, loving the intense action, as the two temporary allies worked together to wear down the Olympic hero.

With every blow, Kurt's defiance seemed to wane, his body starting to slump in the corner. Zlatan and Brock seemed to be on the same page, for now, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time before this fragile alliance shattered under the pressure of their own ambitions.

The match had only just begun, but already the intensity was at a fever pitch. Three of WWE's best were in the ring, and it was clear this was going to be a battle for the ages.

The chaotic alliance between Zlatan Ibrahimović and Brock Lesnar dissolved as quickly as it had formed. After their initial flurry of blows against Kurt Angle, the temporary truce fell apart as the battle for the WWE Championship truly began. Zlatan took the initiative, grabbing Kurt by the arm and whipping him across the ring into the opposite corner. Kurt collided with the turnbuckles, his back arching in pain as he stumbled forward, dazed.

Seeing his moment, Brock Lesnar stepped in with a burst of power, catching Kurt in mid-stride and launching him high into the air with a massive back body drop. Kurt crashed to the mat with a heavy thud, the impact echoing throughout the arena. Reeling from the devastating move, Kurt staggered to his feet, but he had no time to recover. Zlatan, always the opportunist, charged forward and delivered a vicious clothesline, sending Angle tumbling over the top rope and out of the ring. The crowd erupted as Kurt hit the floor hard, temporarily taken out of the equation.

But Zlatan barely had time to celebrate before he felt the ground shift beneath him. Brock, moving with the speed and force of a freight train, caught Zlatan by surprise, wrapping his massive arms around his legs and hoisting him up with a powerful double-leg takedown. In one swift motion, Lesnar drove Zlatan back into the corner, slamming him against the turnbuckles with a bone-rattling impact.

"Lesnar driving those shoulders into the gut of the champion!" Michael Cole exclaimed as Brock began to thrust his thick shoulder into Zlatan's midsection, each blow drawing a gasp from the crowd.

Tazz chuckled, "Well, that didn't last very long. Any alliance in this match was always going to be short-lived."

Brock, feeding off the energy of the crowd, grabbed Zlatan's arm and tried to whip him across the ring to the opposite corner. But Zlatan, always one step ahead, planted his feet and reversed the momentum, pulling Lesnar back toward him and launching him overhead with a picture-perfect belly-to-belly suplex. The fans erupted in applause as Brock crashed hard to the mat.

"And what a throw by Zlatan Ibrahimović!" Michael Cole shouted, his voice filled with excitement.

"Just like that, Ibra manages to turn the tables on Lesnar!" Tazz added.

Zlatan wasted no time, quickly dropping down and covering Brock for the pin. The referee, Mike Chioda, slid into position.

"One… two…!"

But Lesnar powered out, getting his shoulder up just in time. Zlatan, unfazed, quickly moved to capitalize, delivering a series of sharp knee strikes to Brock's exposed midsection. Each knee dug into Lesnar's ribs, targeting the one area already weakened by previous assaults.

Michael Cole was quick to provide context. "Remember, it was just 10 days ago that Kurt Angle injured the ribs of Brock Lesnar with that Angle Slam into a steel chair. And this past Thursday night on SmackDown, Kurt re-aggravated those ribs with a 2x4. Now, the Lion of Rosengård is taking it to Brock Lesnar!"

Tazz nodded in agreement. "Injured ribs have painted a target on Lesnar's back, Cole. Zlatan's smart — he's gonna keep working those ribs until Brock can't breathe."

Zlatan continued to drive his knees into Lesnar's side, each strike met with a grimace of pain from The Beast. He knew that this was his best chance to weaken Lesnar, to exploit the vulnerability that Kurt Angle had created. The crowd could feel the intensity in every blow, every move, as Zlatan poured on the pressure.

But Brock Lesnar was not one to be taken down easily. He gritted his teeth, fighting through the pain, trying to push Zlatan away. The two men were locked in a fierce struggle, each determined to gain the upper hand.

The battle for the WWE Championship was just getting started, and already it was proving to be a brutal, hard-fought contest. The stakes were high, and neither man was willing to back down.

Zlatan Ibrahimović knew he had the upper hand, and he wasn't about to let it slip away. Sensing Brock Lesnar's weakness, Zlatan grabbed a handful of Brock's hair and dragged him toward the nearest corner, the beast still grimacing from the repeated shots to his injured ribs. With Lesnar pinned against the turnbuckles, Zlatan shifted gears, unleashing a relentless barrage of strikes, his movements fluid and precise, drawing from his martial arts background.

Zlatan's hands and feet became a blur of motion. A sharp elbow strike to the ribs. A knee driven forcefully into Brock's midsection. A quick pivot, and Zlatan's leg came up with a vicious kick that landed squarely against Brock's side, right where his ribs had been targeted by Kurt Angle just days earlier. Each blow was calculated, each strike aimed to further exploit the damage, to weaken the Beast and take the fight out of him. The crowd gasped with each hit, feeling the impact of every shot.

Lesnar, tough as nails, did his best to cover up, but Zlatan's relentless onslaught kept him pinned in the corner, unable to escape. Zlatan's focus was intense, his strikes powerful and precise, as he drove his fists and knees into Brock's body, working the injured ribs with clinical precision. The fans roared, half in admiration for Zlatan's tactics, half in sympathy for Brock as the blows continued to rain down.

Referee Mike Chioda, seeing the relentless assault, moved in, trying to maintain some semblance of control in this no disqualification environment. "Come on, Zlatan! Get him out of the corner!" Chioda instructed, his voice stern but cautious, aware of the champion's intensity.

Zlatan barely acknowledged the referee, his focus laser-sharp on Lesnar, delivering a series of rapid-fire knee strikes to Brock's abdomen, each one hitting like a hammer to a drum. He knew the damage he was doing — he could feel the power behind every strike, could hear the sharp intake of breath from Lesnar with each impact. The champion was relentless, feeding off the energy of the crowd and his own determination to retain his title.

Chioda stepped closer, raising his voice, "Come on, Zlatan! Out of the corner, now!"

Reluctantly, Zlatan took a half-step back, his eyes still locked on Brock. The fans were on their feet, some cheering, some calling for Lesnar to fight back, but all of them electrified by the action. Zlatan knew he couldn't afford to let up for long. He had Brock where he wanted him, and he wasn't about to let him recover.

"Look at Zlatan go!" Michael Cole exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement. "He's using his martial arts background to great effect, targeting the ribs of Brock Lesnar, knowing full well that's the weak spot!"

Tazz nodded, his own excitement evident. "Yeah, but he's gotta be careful, Cole. Chioda's telling him to get Lesnar out of the corner, and Zlatan can't afford to get too carried away. But I'll tell ya, he's being smart, going after those injured ribs."

Zlatan circled back, ready to press the advantage further, his eyes flicking to Lesnar's face, searching for any sign of weakness, any hesitation he could exploit. The champion had come prepared for war, and he was making every second count. He knew he needed to stay focused — Kurt Angle was still lurking outside the ring, and Brock Lesnar, even hurt, was always dangerous.

The match had only just begun, but the intensity was already at a boiling point. The crowd sensed it, the commentators knew it, and the competitors felt it with every breath. This was going to be a fight to remember, and Zlatan was determined to leave WrestleMania with the WWE Championship still around his waist.

As Zlatan Ibrahimović took a moment to step back and assess his work, he glanced down at Brock Lesnar, still recovering in the corner from the vicious assault to his ribs. The crowd continued to buzz, sensing that the champion was in control. Zlatan, however, remained cautious, knowing that in a triple threat match, there was always a threat lurking, always a twist waiting just out of sight.

Michael Cole seized the pause in the action to paint the picture of Zlatan's incredible journey. "It's incredible to think that just a year ago, Zlatan Ibrahimović was sitting as a spectator at WrestleMania in Toronto, watching from the VIP section at the SkyDome. Then, the very next night, he made his WWE debut in Montreal. And here he is now, standing as the WWE Champion in the main event of WrestleMania."

Tazz nodded, his voice full of admiration. "Yeah, Cole, and what a ride it's been for Ibra! This guy's accomplished so much in such a short time — a former Tag Team Champion, Intercontinental Champion, and now WWE Champion. He's taken on the best of the best and come out on top. You gotta respect that."

But as the commentators continued to reflect on Zlatan's meteoric rise, the champion's instincts kicked in. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kurt Angle re-entering the fray. The Olympic Gold Medalist, having recovered from his earlier beatdown outside the ring, charged toward Zlatan with speed and intensity, his eyes fixed on the champion.

Zlatan, ever aware, spotted Kurt's movement just in time. With a quick pivot on his heel, Zlatan turned and launched himself into a perfect spin kick, his leg arcing through the air with precision. The crowd gasped as his boot connected squarely with Kurt's jaw, sending the Olympic Hero sprawling to the mat. The impact was thunderous, and the fans erupted in a mix of cheers and awe at Zlatan's agility and awareness.

Tazz's voice crackled with excitement. "Oh! What a spin kick by Zlatan Ibrahimović! He saw Kurt Angle coming and just leveled him!"

Michael Cole echoed the sentiment. "Zlatan's awareness is off the charts! He's keeping his eyes on everyone, never letting his guard down. That's what makes him such a formidable champion."

Zlatan, breathing heavily but still in control, took a moment to look down at Kurt, who was now on his back, dazed by the unexpected blow. The champion's face was a mix of concentration and confidence, knowing he had just neutralized a major threat. But there was no time to rest on his laurels; in this match, there was no time for complacency.

With both of his challengers temporarily down, Zlatan knew he had a moment to capitalize. He had come too far, sacrificed too much, and fought too hard to let his first WrestleMania main event slip away. As he took a deep breath, the fans chanted his name, "Ibra! Ibra!" urging him on, pushing him to keep going, to fight with everything he had.

The Lion of Rosengård was in his element, but the night was far from over. There was still much fight left to give, and Zlatan knew he needed to stay sharp, stay aware, and keep moving if he was to leave Safeco Field with the WWE Championship still in his grasp.

Zlatan Ibrahimović knew he had to keep pressing his advantage. With Kurt Angle momentarily down on the mat from the brutal spin kick, Zlatan turned his attention back to Brock Lesnar, who was still struggling in the corner after the relentless attack on his ribs. Zlatan's eyes narrowed, his determination unwavering. He stepped forward with purpose, raising his hand, and brought it down hard across Brock's chest with a vicious knife-edge chop.

Smack!

The sound echoed throughout Safeco Field, a sharp crack that drew a collective gasp from the crowd. Brock winced, his face contorting in pain, but Zlatan showed no mercy. He delivered another chop, and then another, each one lighting up Brock's chest with stinging red welts. The crowd, feeling the intensity, began to cheer louder, sensing the battle escalating.

Michael Cole's voice rose with excitement. "These are two of the youngest stars in WWE history, folks! Let's not forget, Brock Lesnar won the WWE Title last year at SummerSlam by defeating The Rock, becoming the youngest WWE Champion in history at 25 years old… until Zlatan broke that record just two months ago at the Royal Rumble. At only 21, he defeated Kurt Angle for the WWE Title, setting a new standard!"

Tazz jumped in, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "Yeah, Cole, and these two young lions are tearing it up right now! They've both got something to prove tonight, and neither one is backing down!"

Zlatan continued his assault, staying close to Brock, who was still trapped against the turnbuckles. He switched up his strikes, delivering rapid back elbow shots to Brock's jaw and temple, each one snapping Lesnar's head back. The blows came fast and furious, keeping the pressure on The Beast Incarnate, not giving him a moment to recover or retaliate.

Brock grunted with each shot, his teeth gritted in pain and frustration. Zlatan's aggression was relentless, a flurry of elbows and strikes designed to overwhelm Lesnar and keep him on the defensive. The champion was smart, using his speed and precision to his advantage, understanding that any opportunity given to Brock could quickly turn the tide.

"Zlatan is keeping the pressure on Lesnar!" Michael Cole exclaimed. "He knows exactly how dangerous Brock can be if he gets a chance to breathe. Every shot is calculated, every strike aimed to wear Lesnar down!"

Tazz added, "It's a great strategy by Ibra — go after Brock's weak points, keep him from building any momentum! Those injured ribs are like a bullseye for the champion. But you know Brock, he's not gonna take this lying down. He's looking for his opening."

Zlatan continued his assault, his eyes never leaving Brock's. He knew he was in control, but he also knew how quickly things could change. Brock Lesnar was one of the most dangerous competitors in WWE, and even a moment's lapse could cost Zlatan everything he had fought for.

The two youngest stars in WWE history were locked in a battle for supremacy, their rivalry forged in the fires of competition and ambition. Both men were driven by a desire to prove they were the best, and tonight, on the grandest stage of them all, neither was willing to back down.

With every chop, every elbow, and every strike, Zlatan was fighting to keep his place at the top, to show the world that he was more than just a record-breaking champion — he was a champion who could stand toe-to-toe with the very best and come out on top.

And for Brock, each blow was a reminder that he was in a fight for his life, a battle he had to win to reclaim the glory he had lost.

The fans were on their feet, sensing that this was just the beginning of a fierce and epic contest that would go down in history.

Zlatan continued his relentless assault, driving back elbow after back elbow into Brock Lesnar's jaw. The champion was in full control, using his speed and striking ability to keep Brock on the defensive. But if there was one thing everyone in Safeco Field knew, it was to never count Brock Lesnar out.

Brock, grimacing from the barrage of strikes, suddenly began to fire back. He blocked a blow with his forearm and responded with a powerful right hand that caught Zlatan on the side of the head. Zlatan staggered back slightly, surprised by the sudden ferocity of Brock's counterattack. Brock seized the moment, unleashing a series of rapid rights and forearm shots, each one landing with a thud, driving the champion back step by step.

The crowd's energy surged as Brock began to fight his way out of the corner, every muscle in his body flexing with effort and determination. His punches were heavy, his forearm strikes fierce, and Zlatan found himself suddenly on the back foot, absorbing the full brunt of Brock's offense. The Beast Incarnate was on the attack, fueled by a mix of pain and pride.

"Look at Lesnar!" Michael Cole shouted, his voice rising above the roar of the crowd. "You can never count him out! He's fighting back with everything he's got!"

Tazz nodded, excited by the sudden shift. "That's what makes Brock Lesnar so dangerous, Cole! Just when you think you've got him beat, he comes back twice as hard!"

With a burst of energy, Brock pushed Zlatan further back, and then, sensing an opportunity to turn the momentum completely in his favor, he bounced off the ropes, looking to build up speed and deliver a decisive blow that would swing the match in his direction. The crowd's noise swelled, anticipating the impact.

But Zlatan was ready. As Brock charged forward, Zlatan's instincts kicked in. He stepped forward and drove his knee hard into Brock's midsection, targeting those already weakened ribs. Brock doubled over, the air driven from his lungs in a single, brutal impact. The Beast's momentum was halted in an instant, his body folding over Zlatan's knee.

"Oh! Right into the knee of the WWE Champion!" Michael Cole exclaimed. "Just when Lesnar was starting to get going, Zlatan cuts him off!"

Tazz added, "That's what makes Zlatan so dangerous, Cole. He's always one step ahead, always ready to counter. And he's smart — he knows those ribs are a weak spot, and he's exploiting it every chance he gets."

Brock gasped for air, clutching his ribs, his face contorted in pain. Zlatan saw his chance and quickly went on the offensive again, raining down hammer-like blows across Brock's back and shoulders, keeping the pressure on and not letting up. The fans could sense the ebb and flow of the match, knowing that every second counted, every move could be the one that decided the fate of the WWE Championship.

Zlatan's knee strike had stopped Brock's comeback in its tracks, but he knew he couldn't afford to relax. Lesnar was wounded, but he was still dangerous. The champion had to keep his focus, stay sharp, and capitalize on every advantage he could find.

The battle raged on, with both men determined to prove themselves on the grandest stage of them all. The fight for the WWE Championship was far from over, and the crowd was loving every second of it.

Brock Lesnar clutched his midsection, his face twisted in pain. He could feel his injured ribs with every breath, each inhale like a dagger stabbing into his side. His hand instinctively moved to cover the damage, and his expression showed the pain he was enduring. The attack from Zlatan had zeroed in on his weakness, and now the ribs were a glaring target.

Michael Cole, ever the astute observer, picked up on the detail from ringside. "Look at Lesnar clutching those injured ribs. He's clearly hurting after that knee strike from the champion."

Tazz nodded, his voice filled with concern but also a touch of admiration. "Yeah, Cole, Brock has to be in a world of pain right now, but this guy's a fighter. He's willing to push through anything to win that WWE Title. He's got the heart of a lion, and he's not gonna let a couple of busted ribs stop him."

In the ring, Zlatan Ibrahimović, sensing an opportunity, moved quickly. He smelled blood in the water, like a shark closing in on its prey. He knew this was his chance to capitalize on Brock's vulnerability, to wear down The Beast and keep him grounded. Zlatan closed the distance, wrapping his powerful arms around Brock's head, locking in a tight side headlock. He wrenched Brock's neck to the side, pulling him down to the mat and applying pressure.

Brock gritted his teeth, his face contorted with pain, his breathing labored. He could feel the tightness of Zlatan's grip, the champion's arm squeezing against his jaw and neck, restricting his airflow. Zlatan kept the headlock cinched tight, his muscles taut, his focus unyielding.

Michael Cole continued to call the action. "And Zlatan, like a shark smelling blood, locks in that side headlock, keeping Brock Lesnar grounded on the mat! This is smart strategy from the champion, trying to keep the powerhouse Lesnar down."

Tazz agreed, "Absolutely, Cole. Zlatan's keeping the pressure on those ribs, wearing Brock down, making him fight for every breath. But Lesnar… look at him… he's not giving up. He's got that fighting spirit, pushing through the pain."

Brock's breath came in ragged gasps, but his determination hadn't wavered. He planted his feet on the mat, feeling the strength in his legs, and began to push back against Zlatan's weight. The crowd sensed a shift, a ripple of excitement running through them as Brock fought his way back to his knees, then to his feet. Zlatan kept the side headlock locked in tight, but Brock powered through, driving his feet into the canvas, using his raw strength to force Zlatan backward toward the ropes.

With a final burst of energy, Brock shoved Zlatan off, sending him flying across the ring. Zlatan bounced off the ropes and came charging back, but Brock was ready. He braced himself and threw his shoulder forward, crashing into Zlatan with a powerful shoulder block that sent the champion tumbling to the mat.

The impact was enough to create a little space, a brief moment of reprieve for Brock to catch his breath. The crowd roared, sensing the intensity of the battle as Lesnar stood tall, his chest heaving, his ribs aching but his spirit unbroken.

"Lesnar with a shoulder block!" Michael Cole shouted. "He's bought himself a little breathing room, but those ribs are still in bad shape!"

Tazz added, "That's the heart of Brock Lesnar right there! He's hurting, no doubt, but he's still in this fight. He's not gonna let Zlatan take that title without one hell of a battle."

Brock took a deep breath, his hand still hovering near his ribs, feeling the pain but knowing he had to push on. Zlatan was already beginning to rise, and Brock knew he had to keep pressing forward, to fight through the pain, and seize every opportunity that came his way.

The battle was far from over, and both men knew they were in for the fight of their lives.

Brock Lesnar took a moment to catch his breath after the hard-fought shoulder block that bought him some much-needed space. His ribs throbbed with pain, but he knew there was no time to dwell on it. He needed to stay sharp, keep his focus, and seize any opening that presented itself. The crowd buzzed with excitement, sensing the unpredictable nature of this triple-threat battle.

Just then, from behind, Kurt Angle saw his opportunity. Having recovered from the punishing spin kick he'd received from Zlatan earlier, Angle had been biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. With Brock's back turned, Kurt moved quickly, sneaking up behind the former WWE Champion. In one swift, explosive movement, Kurt wrapped his arms around Brock's waist and delivered a textbook released German suplex, sending Brock flying through the air and crashing down to the mat with a heavy impact.

The crowd erupted at the sudden turn of events, and Kurt, filled with adrenaline, couldn't help but let out a triumphant "Woo!" as he rose to his feet, feeling the momentum shift in his favor. He had waited for this moment and capitalized perfectly, knowing that keeping Brock Lesnar down would give him a better shot at regaining the WWE Title.

But in his moment of celebration, Kurt was unaware that Brock was far from finished. Behind him, Brock Lesnar was already back on his feet, his expression fierce, his muscles tense with fury. The crowd began to roar with excitement, their cheers growing louder as Kurt turned around, only to come face-to-face with the raging Beast Incarnate.

Before Kurt could react, Brock moved with lightning speed, scooping Angle up and hoisting him high above his head in a powerful Gorilla Press. The crowd gasped at the sheer strength on display as Kurt's body was elevated above Brock's head, his legs kicking in the air, his arms flailing, completely at the mercy of Lesnar's raw power.

Michael Cole's voice cut through the roar of the crowd. "Oh my! Look at the power of Brock Lesnar! He's got Kurt Angle up in a Gorilla Press, and Angle has nowhere to go!"

Tazz, full of energy, added, "Brock Lesnar is just a freak of nature, Cole! Kurt thought he had him, but Brock's not done yet! He's got Kurt right where he wants him, and this does not look good for the Olympic Hero!"

Kurt's eyes widened in realization as he looked down from the precarious height, understanding that he was in a world of trouble. Brock's arms were locked tight, and the Beast showed no sign of releasing his grip. The crowd was on its feet, cheering wildly, knowing that Brock was about to deliver something devastating.

Lesnar held Kurt aloft for a moment longer, showing off his incredible strength, the intensity clear in his eyes. He was ready to make a statement, to remind both his opponents and the world exactly why he was known as The Next Big Thing.

The match had just taken another unexpected turn, and the fans in Safeco Field could feel it — this was a fight that could change in an instant, and every second mattered.

With Kurt Angle hoisted high above his head in a Gorilla Press, Brock Lesnar held him there for a moment, showcasing his extraordinary strength. The crowd's excitement was palpable, a sea of flashbulbs capturing the sheer display of power. Then, with a roar, Brock slammed Kurt down to the mat with authority, sending shockwaves through the ring. The impact was tremendous, Kurt's body bouncing off the canvas from the force of the slam.

Michael Cole's voice echoed through the stadium, full of astonishment. "What a Gorilla Press Slam by Brock Lesnar! Absolute power from The Beast!"

Tazz added, "Cole, that's pure brute strength right there! Brock Lesnar is a monster, and he just sent Kurt Angle crashing down with all the force he could muster!"

Kurt lay on the mat, stunned and winded from the impact, his body momentarily limp. Brock, however, wasn't done. He knew that keeping Kurt down would require more than just one powerful move. Brock dragged Angle by the arm toward the nearest corner, his face a mask of fierce determination. With a quick, powerful motion, Brock positioned Kurt against the turnbuckles, trapping him in the corner.

Without wasting a second, Brock drove his thick shoulder into Kurt's gut with relentless aggression. Each time, he slammed his shoulder into Angle's midsection, the force of the impact making Kurt's body jolt with every blow. Brock's expression was focused and fierce, the pain in his ribs forgotten as he poured all his energy into battering Kurt.

Michael Cole continued, "Lesnar is driving those shoulders right into Kurt Angle's midsection! He's relentless, just wearing Kurt down in that corner!"

Tazz responded with admiration, "Brock knows he has to keep the pressure on Kurt. He's gotta make sure Angle's not a factor if he wants to win this match!"

Meanwhile, Zlatan Ibrahimović stood off to the side, watching closely, his eyes locked on Brock and Kurt. The champion had been biding his time, allowing Brock to do the hard work of softening Angle up. Zlatan was smart, experienced beyond his years in knowing when to strike and when to hold back. He knew this was a marathon, not a sprint, and that conserving his energy could pay dividends later in the match.

The crowd sensed Zlatan's strategy, a mix of cheers and boos acknowledging his cunning approach. He didn't need to be in the fray at every moment — he was picking his spot, waiting for the perfect time to strike when both of his opponents had worn themselves down.

Brock continued his relentless assault, driving his shoulder into Kurt's gut again and again. The crowd roared with every hit, the intensity of the match ramping up with each passing second. Kurt's face twisted in pain, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he tried to absorb the punishing blows.

But Zlatan waited, like a predator watching its prey, ready to pounce when the moment was right. He knew that with each shoulder thrust, Brock was expending more energy, and Kurt was taking more damage. The champion remained calm, his eyes locked on the action, fully aware that his time would come soon enough.

The battle for the WWE Championship was fierce, and Zlatan's strategy was clear — let the others wear each other down and then make his move. The tension in the arena continued to build, the fans on the edge of their seats, knowing that in a match like this, anything could happen at any moment.

As Brock Lesnar continued to batter Kurt Angle in the corner, Zlatan Ibrahimović saw his opportunity. He had been biding his time, waiting for just the right moment to strike, and now, with Brock focused entirely on Kurt, he decided to make his move.

Zlatan slipped in behind Lesnar, his steps quick and silent. With a sudden burst of strength, he attempted a German suplex, wrapping his arms around Brock's thick waist and pulling back with all his might. But Brock, ever the powerhouse, planted his feet firmly and blocked the attempt, his muscles tensing as he resisted Zlatan's pull.

In an instant, Brock countered, breaking Zlatan's grip and spinning around to grab the champion himself. With a swift, explosive motion, Brock launched Zlatan overhead with a German suplex. The crowd gasped in awe at the power on display, but Zlatan, showing incredible agility and awareness, managed to land on his feet, his body moving with the grace of a seasoned athlete.

Michael Cole shouted, "Oh my! Zlatan lands on his feet! What incredible agility by the WWE Champion!"

Tazz added, "That's that athleticism, Cole! Zlatan's got those cat-like reflexes. You gotta keep your eyes on him at all times!"

Not wasting a moment, Zlatan quickly turned and launched a spin kick, aiming right for Brock's already injured midsection. But Brock was ready. With lightning-quick reflexes, he caught Zlatan's leg mid-kick, his powerful hand wrapping around Zlatan's ankle with a vice-like grip.

Zlatan's eyes widened in surprise as Brock held his leg firmly, and before the champion could react, Brock shifted his weight and drove Zlatan down with a brutal STO, slamming him hard onto the mat. The crowd erupted as Zlatan's back hit the canvas with a thunderous impact.

"STO by Lesnar!" Michael Cole called out. "What a counter! Brock Lesnar caught Zlatan in mid-air and just planted him!"

Tazz chimed in, his voice filled with excitement. "That's the power of Brock Lesnar, Cole! He's always one step ahead. Zlatan tried to catch him off guard, but The Beast was ready!"

Brock remained on top of Zlatan, his expression fierce, his breathing heavy but steady. He knew he had to keep pushing, keep the pressure on both his opponents. The WWE Championship was on the line, and there was no room for hesitation.

Zlatan, feeling the sting of the mat against his back, gritted his teeth, trying to shake off the impact. He knew he needed to stay focused, stay sharp — Brock was relentless, and any lapse in concentration could be costly. But the champion had proven his resilience time and again, and he wasn't about to back down now.

The battle raged on, with each man looking for that one decisive moment that could turn the tide in their favor. The crowd was on their feet, fully immersed in the action, knowing they were witnessing a contest of strength, skill, and will like no other.

Brock Lesnar stood tall over Zlatan Ibrahimović, catching his breath after the devastating STO that had brought the champion crashing to the mat. His chest heaved with every breath, his injured ribs aching, but his determination remained unbroken. He knew he had to keep moving, to stay in control of this unpredictable, chaotic match.

But Kurt Angle, ever the opportunist, had been watching closely, waiting for the right moment to strike again. He had been nursing the pain from Brock's assault in the corner, but now he saw his chance. With Zlatan temporarily down, Angle turned his attention back to Brock.

With a sudden burst of speed, Kurt charged across the ring, his eyes locked on Lesnar. Brock barely had time to turn his head before Kurt dove low, targeting one of Brock's thick, muscular legs. With precision, Kurt delivered a vicious chop block to the back of Lesnar's knee, cutting the big man down to size. The impact was brutal, and Brock's leg buckled immediately under the force of the blow.

Michael Cole's voice was filled with excitement and urgency. "Kurt Angle with a chop block! He just chopped Brock Lesnar down to one knee!"

Tazz nodded, impressed with Angle's strategy. "That's the Olympic Hero for ya, Cole! He knows he can't go toe-to-toe with Lesnar's power, so he's targeting the legs, taking away Brock's base! Smart move by Kurt Angle."

Brock grunted in pain, his face twisting as he dropped to one knee, his hand instinctively reaching for his knee. The Beast was momentarily vulnerable, his size and strength diminished by the strategic move from Angle. The crowd buzzed, sensing another shift in momentum.

Kurt wasted no time. He knew that every second counted. He circled around Brock, landing a quick kick to the back of Lesnar's leg, further weakening the base of the powerful former champion. The pain was evident on Brock's face, his teeth gritted, but he refused to go down easily.

Zlatan, seeing the momentary chaos unfold, began to stir on the mat, his eyes darting between his two challengers. He knew that Angle was making a calculated play to eliminate Brock's power advantage, but he also knew that this was the kind of opportunity that could be exploited.

Kurt, focused and methodical, continued to work on Brock's leg, aiming to keep the Beast down and neutralize his explosive offense. The match had taken yet another turn, and it was clear that this battle would not be over until only one man stood tall with the WWE Championship.

Kurt Angle knew he had Brock Lesnar exactly where he wanted him — down on one knee, his base compromised, and his ribs already battered from earlier in the match. With a look of fierce determination, Kurt wasted no time. He immediately grabbed hold of Brock's leg, twisting it to the side while stepping around his opponent's body, locking in a tight submission hold.

With swift precision, Kurt applied a modified clutch submission, pressing Brock's knee against his own back and wrenching it upward. At the same time, he leaned back, his arms pulling and squeezing, which stretched Brock's ribs and torso in a painful arch. Brock's face twisted in agony as the pressure mounted on his injured midsection, the pain radiating through his body.

Michael Cole's voice rose in excitement, "Angle's got him! Kurt Angle has locked in that submission hold, pulling Brock's knee back while pressing it against his ribs! Lesnar's in serious trouble here!"

Tazz quickly added, "Yeah, Cole, this is genius by Kurt Angle! Not only is he working on Brock's leg, but he's putting pressure on those already damaged ribs! He's got Brock caught in two places at once, and you can see the pain on Brock's face!"

Brock grunted, his breathing labored as Kurt continued to apply pressure, bending his knee at an awkward angle and stretching his ribs. The pain was searing, shooting through his side with every movement, every breath. But The Beast Incarnate was not one to give up easily. His face contorted with effort, he tried to claw his way toward the ropes, each inch feeling like a mile as the hold wrenched tighter.

Kurt held on, his arms flexing, his grip tight, sweat dripping from his brow. He knew he had to keep Brock grounded, to keep the pressure on. He could feel Lesnar's body resisting, the tension in his muscles, the raw power fighting against his submission. But Kurt was an Olympic gold medalist, a master technician, and he knew how to make every move count.

The crowd was on its feet, watching with bated breath as Brock struggled against the hold. Zlatan, still watching from a safe distance, saw the opportunity to conserve his energy, to wait for the moment when both of his challengers had exhausted themselves in their struggle.

"Lesnar is in a world of hurt right now!" Michael Cole shouted. "He's got the knee pulled back, and those ribs — they have to be screaming in pain!"

Tazz nodded, clearly impressed by Kurt's strategy. "Kurt's got that submission locked in tight! If he can keep Brock down and wear him out, we could be looking at a new WWE Champion!"

Brock's face was red with strain, his teeth clenched as he fought through the pain. Every fiber of his being wanted to break free, but the submission was expertly applied, and the agony was relentless. He had no choice but to endure, to find some way out of this hold before it was too late.

Angle continued to pull and press, sensing that victory could be within reach if he could just keep Lesnar contained. But in a match like this, anything could happen, and everyone knew it. The battle for the WWE Championship was reaching a fever pitch, and the fans were loving every second of it.

Brock Lesnar grimaced in pain, trapped in the agonizing submission hold expertly applied by Kurt Angle. His ribs screamed with every breath, and his leg felt as if it was being torn apart. Just when it seemed like Lesnar might be forced to tap, Zlatan Ibrahimović charged forward, sensing his chance to break up the hold and take control of the match.

With a powerful shove, Zlatan pushed Kurt off Brock, breaking the submission and sending Angle stumbling backward. The crowd roared as the two former partners and bitter rivals came face to face, the tension between them instantly crackling in the air.

Zlatan and Kurt stared each other down, eyes locked, neither willing to back down. The animosity between them was palpable. They had been rivals, then partners, and then rivals again. The latter part of 2002 had been marked by their uneasy alliance, becoming WWE Tag Team Champions, only to have it dissolve into a bitter feud driven by their massive egos and fierce desire to be the best.

Michael Cole, sensing the moment, narrated for the fans watching at home, "These two have a long history, folks. Former WWE Tag Team Champions, but their egos and rivalry tore them apart. Now, here we are at WrestleMania, and the rivalry reignites once more!"

Tazz added, "And what a rivalry it's been, Cole! Zlatan is up three to Kurt's two in terms of victories, but you know Kurt Angle — he's always looking to even the score. These guys can't stand each other!"

The WWE fans in Safeco Field erupted in excitement, thrilled to see the tension between the Bosnian Croat from Malmö and the Olympic Gold Medalist flare up again. The two men began to exchange heated words, their faces inches apart, the trash talk flowing as they taunted one another.

And then, the action exploded. They began unloading on each other with a flurry of rights, fists flying as the crowd roared even louder. Kurt, ever the seasoned ring general, initially gained the upper hand. Using his experience, he managed to drive Zlatan back into the corner, hammering away with rapid-fire punches to the champion's head and body.

"Kurt Angle, taking it to Zlatan in the corner!" Michael Cole shouted, his voice filled with energy. "These two men have no love lost, and they are just throwing haymakers!"

Angle continued to unleash on Zlatan, each punch snapping the champion's head back, his arms bracing against the ropes. Kurt had Zlatan cornered, pressing his advantage, his face filled with intensity. The fans could feel the rivalry boiling over, the stakes higher than ever.

But Zlatan, always resilient, managed to block one of Kurt's right hands with his forearm, then quickly countered with a stiff right of his own, catching Kurt squarely on the jaw. The blow staggered Angle just enough to create a small opening, and Zlatan seized it.

The Lion of Rosengård, fueled by the chants of his fans, began to battle his way out of the corner, firing back with a series of rights, each one more powerful than the last. The crowd cheered wildly as Zlatan pushed back against the Olympic hero, his strikes fierce and filled with passion.

"And here comes Zlatan!" Tazz exclaimed, leaning into the action. "The Bosnian Croat from Malmö is fighting his way out of the corner! He's not backing down from Angle — no way!"

Zlatan's fists flew with intensity, his face a mask of determination, as he drove Kurt back step by step. The two men were locked in a furious exchange, their rivalry reigniting in a blaze of fists and fury. The fans were on their feet, loving every second of the confrontation between these two fierce competitors.

This was more than just a title match — it was a battle between two men who had fought alongside each other, then against each other, who knew each other's strengths and weaknesses, and who were determined to prove once and for all who was the better man. The fire between them burned hotter than ever, and the WWE Universe was enthralled by every blow, every movement, every moment of this clash.

Zlatan Ibrahimović and Kurt Angle were in the middle of a furious exchange, fists flying with reckless abandon. The intensity between the two former partners and rivals was electric, their bodies moving in a blur of strikes and counters. The crowd at Safeco Field roared with every punch, feeling the raw emotion and passion of the battle between these two warriors.

Zlatan, finding his rhythm, began to take control, backing Kurt up with a series of powerful rights. His eyes were locked on Angle, his jaw set with determination, ready to lay out his nemesis once and for all. The crowd sensed the momentum shifting in Zlatan's favor, cheering him on as he prepared to deliver a decisive blow.

But just as Zlatan cocked his fist back to lay Kurt out, a massive force exploded into the ring. Brock Lesnar, who had been recovering from the painful modified clutch submission that Kurt had applied earlier, surged forward with terrifying speed and power. His face was a mask of fury, and his muscular frame seemed to move with the force of a freight train.

Out of nowhere, Brock delivered a double clothesline, his massive arms extending like battering rams, crashing into both Zlatan and Kurt with bone-rattling impact. The two men never saw it coming.

Michael Cole's voice rang out in shock and awe. "Oh my God! Lesnar out of nowhere with a double clothesline! He just leveled both Kurt Angle and Zlatan Ibrahimović!"

Tazz added, his voice filled with excitement. "Look at the impact, Cole! Lesnar just exploded like a cannonball! The Beast is back in this match!"

Zlatan and Kurt hit the mat hard, their bodies crashing down as Brock's powerful arms mowed them both over. The crowd erupted, a sea of cheers and gasps at the sudden shift in momentum. Brock stood tall, chest heaving, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he let out a primal roar.

Brock had taken a beating, but he was far from finished. He was The Beast Incarnate, and he thrived on moments like this — moments when everything was on the line, and he could unleash his full fury. He looked down at his fallen opponents, both men writhing on the mat, and a grin spread across his face.

"That's Brock Lesnar for you!" Tazz shouted. "He's never out of the fight! Just when you think he's down, he comes back swinging with everything he's got!"

Lesnar quickly assessed his options, knowing he needed to capitalize on this opportunity. He had both of his rivals down, and he wasn't about to let them get back up. The WWE Championship was within his grasp, and he was prepared to do whatever it took to claim it.

The battle for supremacy was far from over, and with Lesnar back on his feet, it was clear that the action was just getting started. The crowd sensed the renewed energy in the ring, knowing that the match had just taken another explosive turn, and they were eager to see what would happen next.

With both Zlatan Ibrahimović and Kurt Angle down after his devastating double clothesline, Brock Lesnar knew he had the upper hand. The crowd was roaring, fully invested in the chaotic and intense battle unfolding before them. Brock, breathing heavily but fueled by adrenaline, wasted no time in continuing his assault.

Seeing Zlatan beginning to stir, Brock quickly moved in. He scooped Zlatan off the mat, lifting him effortlessly into a cradle position. The power in Lesnar's arms was undeniable as he held the WWE Champion aloft, Zlatan's body draped across Brock's broad chest. With a swift, calculated motion, Brock adjusted his grip and brought Zlatan crashing down across his knee with a brutal backbreaker.

The impact was devastating. Zlatan's spine arched in agony as he bounced off Brock's knee and fell to the mat, clutching his back in pain. The crowd winced, the force of the move evident in the way Zlatan's body crumpled on the canvas.

Michael Cole's voice filled with awe, "What a backbreaker by Brock Lesnar! He just drove Zlatan's spine right across his knee!"

Tazz added, "That's the kind of power Brock brings to the table, Cole. He's not just a powerhouse—he's a monster! Zlatan's gotta be feeling that one in every bone of his body."

As Zlatan rolled away, writhing in pain, Brock's attention shifted to Kurt Angle, who was slowly wobbling back to his feet, clearly dazed from the earlier onslaught. Brock's eyes locked onto the Olympic Gold Medalist, and with the precision of a predator, he moved in for the kill.

Brock wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist, his grip like a steel vise. Before Kurt could even register what was happening, Brock lifted him high into the air with an incredible belly-to-belly suplex. The sheer power and technique of the move were breathtaking as Kurt was launched over Brock's head and sent crashing down to the mat with a thunderous impact.

"Kurt Angle just got tossed like a ragdoll!" Michael Cole exclaimed, his voice almost drowned out by the roaring crowd. "Brock Lesnar is a man on a mission!"

Tazz, equally impressed, chimed in, "That's vintage Lesnar, Cole! The strength, the intensity—Brock is taking it to both of these guys, and he's doing it with authority!"

Kurt hit the mat hard, his body bouncing off the canvas as he landed, leaving him momentarily stunned. Brock, standing tall in the center of the ring, surveyed the damage he had inflicted. Zlatan was down, Kurt was down, and Brock Lesnar was in control.

The fans were on their feet, the excitement in the arena reaching a fever pitch. Brock's dominance was on full display, and it was clear that he was fully committed to walking out of WrestleMania as the WWE Champion.

But even as Brock stood tall, the match was far from over. The WWE Championship hung in the balance, and both Zlatan and Kurt were not the type to stay down for long. The battle was only growing more intense, and the WWE Universe knew they were witnessing something truly special—a contest where anything could still happen.

Kurt Angle, still reeling from the punishing belly-to-belly suplex by Brock Lesnar, instinctively rolled out of the ring, seeking a moment to recover. His body ached from the impact, and his head swam with disorientation, but he knew he had to stay in the fight. Brock, however, had other plans. Seeing Kurt beginning to stir on the outside, Brock's eyes lit up with fierce determination. The Beast Incarnate wasn't about to let Angle regroup.

With purposeful strides, Brock stepped through the ropes and dropped down to the floor, his focus locked on Kurt. The fans buzzed with anticipation, sensing more brutality on the horizon. Lesnar reached down, grabbed a handful of Kurt's hair, and with one powerful motion, slammed the Olympic Gold Medalist's head into the unforgiving steel steps.

CLANG!

The sound of Kurt's skull bouncing off the steel echoed throughout Safeco Field, drawing gasps from the crowd. Angle's body jerked from the impact, his knees buckling as he tried to stay upright. Brock, relentless as ever, followed up with a series of vicious knee strikes to Kurt's midsection, each blow driving the air from Angle's lungs and leaving him more stunned with every hit.

"Kurt Angle's head just slammed into those steel steps!" Michael Cole shouted, his voice filled with concern and amazement. "And now Brock Lesnar is unloading with those knee strikes!"

Tazz responded, "Lesnar is like a shark, Cole. He smells blood in the water, and he's not gonna let Angle get a second to breathe!"

With Kurt momentarily incapacitated, Brock decided to up the ante. He grabbed Kurt by the arm and, with all the strength he could muster, whipped him across the floor and into the opposite set of steel steps. The impact was brutal, the steel steps dislodging from their base as Kurt's back crashed against them, his body crumpling to the ground in a heap.

The crowd roared at the sheer ferocity of Brock's assault, recognizing the Beast's dominance in this chaotic environment. Brock paused for a moment, standing tall over Kurt's prone body, feeling the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Kurt lay motionless, his face contorted in pain, his body struggling to recover from the relentless attack.

"Lesnar has absolutely decimated Kurt Angle!" Michael Cole exclaimed. "He's incapacitated him with those steel steps! The Olympic Gold Medalist is in serious trouble here!"

Tazz added with admiration, "Yeah, Cole, Brock's got everything going his way right now. He's dismantling Angle piece by piece, and he's looking to put this match away!"

Satisfied that Kurt was out of commission for the moment, Brock turned his attention back to the ring. He knew Zlatan Ibrahimović was still inside, recovering from the backbreaker moments earlier. Feeling the surge of control and power, Brock climbed back into the ring, his eyes burning with intensity, knowing he had the upper hand.

The crowd continued to buzz, sensing that the momentum was swinging heavily in Lesnar's favor. He had taken down both of his opponents and now stood in the ring, ready to continue his path of destruction. The WWE Championship was within his reach, and Brock was ready to seize it.

But Zlatan was beginning to stir, slowly pushing himself up, readying for what was to come. The battle was far from over, and the fans knew that with these three warriors, anything could still happen.

Brock Lesnar, feeling a surge of confidence after incapacitating Kurt Angle on the outside, climbed back into the ring with a sense of purpose. The Beast had cleared the way, and now he had his sights set on the WWE Champion, Zlatan Ibrahimović. But as Brock turned toward the center of the ring, he saw Zlatan, already back on his feet, shaking off the effects of the earlier onslaught.

The crowd began to rally behind Zlatan, sensing a shift in momentum. With determination in his eyes, Zlatan charged forward, meeting Brock with a series of powerful right hands, each one snapping Brock's head back. The fans roared with every strike, willing the champion to mount a comeback. Zlatan was fighting back with everything he had, unloading with a flurry of punches, trying to turn the tide in his favor.

But Brock, always dangerous, weathered the storm. With a snarl, he ducked under one of Zlatan's punches and quickly wrapped his massive arms around Zlatan's waist. In one fluid motion, Brock lifted the champion high off the ground and sent him crashing overhead with a textbook belly-to-belly suplex. Zlatan's body flew through the air before hitting the mat hard, his back arching in pain from the impact.

Michael Cole shouted over the roaring crowd, "Belly-to-belly by Lesnar! And what a throw by The Beast Incarnate!"

Tazz added, "Brock Lesnar just shut Zlatan down! That's the power of Brock right there, Cole. When he gets his hands on you, it's lights out!"

Seeing his opportunity, Brock quickly dropped down and hooked Zlatan's leg, pulling it tight for the cover. The referee, Mike Chioda, slid into position, his hand slapping the mat.

"One… two…!"

But just before the referee's hand could hit the mat for a third time, Zlatan powered his shoulder up, breaking the pinfall. The crowd erupted in relief and excitement, cheering for the champion's resilience.

"Zlatan gets the shoulder up at two!" Michael Cole exclaimed. "The Lion of Rosengård showing incredible heart, refusing to go down!"

Tazz nodded, impressed. "Zlatan's not giving up that easy, Cole. He knows what's at stake. He's the WWE Champion for a reason, and he's not about to let Brock walk out with that title!"

Brock's face showed a mix of frustration and determination. He knew he had Zlatan hurt, but the champion wasn't staying down. The Beast Incarnate took a moment to catch his breath, his mind racing, strategizing his next move. He could feel the energy of the crowd, the tension building, and he knew he had to keep the pressure on.

Zlatan, meanwhile, began to stir again, his hand clutching his back, but his eyes filled with defiance. He was hurt, but he wasn't beaten. He had fought too hard to get to this point, and he wasn't going to let the WWE Championship slip away without giving everything he had.

The battle raged on, and the fans could sense that the intensity was only going to increase. Brock Lesnar was on the attack, but Zlatan Ibrahimović was far from finished. The WWE Championship hung in the balance, and neither man was willing to back down.

Brock Lesnar, frustration etched across his face, knew he needed to keep the momentum going. Zlatan Ibrahimović had proven his resilience, kicking out just before the count of three, but Brock was determined to put the champion down for good. With an intensity that seemed to radiate from his entire being, Brock grabbed a fistful of Zlatan's hair, yanking him up to his feet.

The Beast Incarnate, showcasing his extraordinary strength, swiftly maneuvered Zlatan into a high cradle position. With effortless power, Brock hoisted Zlatan up into the air, holding him aloft as if he weighed nothing at all. The crowd gasped at the sheer display of raw strength as Brock walked around the ring, parading his dominance with Zlatan suspended high above his head.

Michael Cole shouted in amazement, "Look at the power of Brock Lesnar! He's got Zlatan up in a high cradle, just showcasing that incredible strength!"

Tazz added, "Brock Lesnar's a freak of nature, Cole! He's making it look easy! Zlatan's in a bad spot here!"

Brock paused briefly, a grin of confidence spreading across his face as he soaked in the reaction from the crowd. Then, with a sudden shift in motion, he swung Zlatan down with a fisherman suplex, planting the champion hard onto the mat. The impact reverberated throughout the arena, drawing a collective gasp from the fans.

Wasting no time, Brock rolled over and hooked Zlatan's leg for another cover, pressing his weight down firmly across the champion's shoulders. The referee dropped down quickly, counting the pinfall.

"One… two…!"

But just before the third count, Zlatan shot his shoulder up, breaking the pinfall once more. The crowd erupted in cheers, stunned by the champion's resilience.

"Zlatan kicks out at two!" Michael Cole yelled. "The Lion of Rosengård showing incredible heart and determination! He refuses to stay down!"

Tazz added with admiration, "You gotta respect Zlatan, Cole. Brock's thrown everything at him, but the champ keeps fighting back. He's not giving up that WWE Title without a hell of a fight!"

Brock sat up, his face a mask of frustration and determination. He had thrown everything at Zlatan, but the champion kept coming back, refusing to be pinned. The crowd was electric, fully engaged in the back-and-forth battle between these two titans, sensing that this was a contest of wills as much as it was a contest of strength and skill.

Zlatan lay on the mat, breathing heavily, his body wracked with pain, but his spirit undeterred. He knew he had to dig deep, find something within himself to continue fighting against The Beast.

The intensity of the match was rising with every moment, and it was clear that both men were prepared to go to any lengths to walk out of WrestleMania with the WWE Championship.

Brock Lesnar, relentless in his pursuit of the WWE Championship, pulled Zlatan Ibrahimović back to his feet with a determined fury. With the crowd buzzing, Lesnar shoved Zlatan into the corner, driving his shoulder repeatedly into the champion's gut. Each strike was like a battering ram, forcing the air from Zlatan's lungs and leaving him reeling.

Michael Cole seized the moment to remind the audience of Brock's journey. "Brock Lesnar has been clawing and itching to get back to the top of the mountain ever since he lost the WWE Title at Survivor Series. And by the looks of things right now, Lesnar could very well be the next Champion!"

Tazz, ever the astute observer, chimed in, "And don't forget, Cole, Brock's been fighting through the pain of those injured ribs. Every time he takes a breath or makes a high-impact move, it's gotta be hurting. But that's Brock Lesnar for you—he doesn't know the meaning of quit!"

Just as it seemed Lesnar was fully in control, Zlatan began to fight back with a sudden burst of energy. He threw rights and lefts, surprising Brock with the ferocity of his strikes. The crowd roared as Zlatan pushed himself off the ropes, trying to build momentum and turn the tide.

But Brock was ready. As Zlatan charged back toward him, Lesnar quickly adjusted, catching Zlatan mid-stride and clasping his massive arms around the champion's waist in a powerful bear hug. Brock's muscles bulged as he tightened his grip, his face a picture of focused intensity.

Michael Cole immediately drew the comparison. "Lesnar's got that bear hug locked in! This is eerily similar to what he did to the legendary Hollywood Hulk Hogan last year on SmackDown. Those massive arms… they sucked the life out of Hogan, causing internal bleeding!"

Tazz nodded in agreement. "That's right, Cole! Lesnar is using his amateur background here, keeping a vice-like grip on Zlatan. He's not letting go, and he's squeezing the fight right out of the champion!"

Lesnar's hold was unyielding, his massive arms compressing Zlatan's ribs and spine with crushing force. The pain was immediate and intense, and Zlatan's face twisted in agony as he felt the life being squeezed out of him. Referee Mike Chioda moved in close, checking on the champion.

"Zlatan, do you want to give up?" Chioda asked, his voice urgent.

Zlatan, grimacing through the pain, shook his head vehemently, refusing to surrender. The crowd, recognizing his determination, began to chant in unison. "Ibra! Ibra! Ibra!" Their voices filled the arena, a wave of support that seemed to fuel the champion's resolve.

Encouraged by the fans, Zlatan began to fire back, driving his elbow into Brock's head repeatedly, each strike hitting with a dull thud. Lesnar grunted with each blow, but his grip remained locked tight. Sensing that Zlatan might be finding a way out, Lesnar acted quickly.

With a sudden surge of power, Brock lifted Zlatan off his feet and sent him crashing to the mat with a brutal back suplex, all while maintaining his crushing grip around Zlatan's waist. The impact was tremendous, the ring shaking from the force of the move. The crowd gasped at the sheer power on display, knowing that Lesnar wasn't letting go.

"Brock Lesnar is keeping that bear hug locked in, even after a back suplex!" Michael Cole shouted. "He's relentless, he's focused, and he's determined to squeeze every bit of fight out of Zlatan!"

Tazz added, "This is vintage Lesnar, Cole! He's not just a powerhouse; he's a tactician. He knows how to wear you down, how to break your spirit. He's keeping Zlatan trapped, and the longer this goes, the worse it is for the champion!"

Zlatan winced in pain, feeling the grip tighten with each passing second. He knew he had to find a way out, to dig deep and fight back. The fans continued to chant his name, "Ibra! Ibra!" urging him on, giving him strength.

The match hung in the balance, and the WWE Universe could feel the tension rising. Brock had Zlatan in a vice, but the champion wasn't ready to give in. The battle was far from over, and everyone in Safeco Field knew they were witnessing a contest that would be talked about for years to come.

Brock Lesnar's bear hug was relentless, a crushing grip born from years of amateur wrestling experience. His powerful arms, hardened by countless hours of training, tightened around Zlatan Ibrahimović's waist, compressing his ribs and squeezing the air from his lungs. The pain was excruciating, and Zlatan's face began to show the strain. His movements slowed, and his strength seemed to ebb away as the powerful hold took its toll on the Lion of Rosengård.

Zlatan's head began to droop, his body sagging against Brock's ironclad grip. The crowd, sensing the champion was in serious trouble, began to grow anxious, their cheers turning to gasps and murmurs. Referee Mike Chioda, noticing Zlatan's eyes starting to flutter, moved in to check on him.

Chioda took hold of Zlatan's arm, lifting it high above his head. He released it, and the arm fell limp, dropping to his side.

"One!" Mike Chioda called out, and the crowd held their breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

Chioda lifted Zlatan's arm again and let it go. Once more, it fell lifelessly, hanging at his side.

"Two!"

The crowd's anxiety grew, sensing the champion was fading. Brock's grip was as tight as ever, his face set with grim determination. He could feel victory within his grasp, the WWE Championship just moments away.

Chioda picked up Zlatan's arm one last time. He held it high in the air and then let it go, the arena falling silent in anticipation. As the arm fell, the fans leaned forward, and for a brief second, it seemed as if the fight was over.

But just before Zlatan's arm could drop for the third and final time, it stopped. It hovered in mid-air, trembling slightly, then slowly began to rise. The crowd erupted into cheers, a wave of energy surging through Safeco Field.

"The fight of the Lion of Rosengård continues!" Michael Cole shouted, his voice filled with excitement. "Zlatan is still in this match!"

Reinvigorated by the roar of the fans chanting his name, "Ibra! Ibra!" Zlatan began to find his strength. He willed himself back into the fight, his body shaking with the effort as he slowly twisted and shifted within Brock's grip. With a sudden burst of energy, Zlatan managed to shift his body weight, planting his feet firmly on the mat. He executed a quick leg sweep, knocking Brock off balance, causing Lesnar to stumble backward.

Freed from the bear hug, Zlatan quickly took advantage. He delivered a sharp kick to Brock's midsection, targeting the injured ribs, causing Brock to gasp and clutch his side. Sensing his chance, Zlatan grabbed Lesnar's head, hooking it under his arm, and with a surge of determination, he drove Brock down to the mat with a DDT. The impact was thunderous, Brock's head bouncing off the canvas as the crowd erupted in cheers.

"What a counter by Zlatan Ibrahimović!" Michael Cole exclaimed. "He fought out of that bear hug and just planted Brock Lesnar with a DDT!"

Tazz, equally impressed, added, "Zlatan's showing that heart of a champion, Cole! He looked like he was out, but he's come back fighting! What a match!"

Brock lay on the mat, stunned by the sudden counter, his hand still gripping his ribs. Zlatan, fueled by the crowd's support, pushed himself up, every muscle aching but his spirit unyielding. The fight was far from over, and the Lion of Rosengård had roared back to life.

The intensity in the ring was building to a fever pitch, and the fans knew they were witnessing something special. The WWE Championship was still on the line, and neither competitor was willing to let it slip away. The battle raged on, each moment more thrilling than the last.

The ring was a battleground, each of the three men pushing themselves beyond their limits, desperate to seize the WWE Championship. Zlatan Ibrahimović had just turned the tide with a surprising DDT on Brock Lesnar, but both men were slow to rise, the exhaustion of this brutal contest beginning to show on their faces.

Zlatan and Brock slowly pushed themselves to their feet, each breath coming with difficulty, every muscle aching. The crowd cheered them on, sensing that another turning point in this epic battle was just moments away.

But just as they steadied themselves, Kurt Angle, who had been recovering outside the ring, slid back in, eyes blazing with determination. He saw his chance to reinsert himself into the match and reclaim the momentum that had shifted away from him earlier. With a sudden burst of speed, Angle rushed toward Lesnar, who was just beginning to straighten up.

Without missing a beat, Kurt grabbed Lesnar around the waist, locking his arms in place. With a mighty heave, Kurt executed a German suplex, launching Lesnar backward with such force that Brock flew across the ring and crashed directly into the top turnbuckle. The back of Brock's head and shoulders hit the steel-covered pad with a sickening thud, and the crowd gasped at the sheer brutality of the move.

Michael Cole shouted, "Oh my! German suplex by Kurt Angle right into the top turnbuckle! Did you see that impact?!"

Tazz added with urgency, "Lesnar felt every bit of that one, Cole! You can see it on his face — he's clutching that midsection again. Angle's back in this thing, and he's looking to do some serious damage!"

Brock slumped down in the corner, pain etched across his face as he clutched his ribs once more, the same injured ribs that had been targeted throughout the match. The impact had been brutal, jarring his body, and he was clearly feeling the effects. For a moment, it looked as if the pain might be too much even for The Beast Incarnate.

Angle, sensing blood in the water, quickly refocused his attention, eyes darting between Lesnar and Zlatan. He knew this was his opportunity to capitalize, to keep his opponents down and make his move for the WWE Championship.

The crowd's excitement surged once more, realizing that Kurt Angle had just made a major play to shift the momentum back in his favor. The Olympic Hero was back in the fray, and he wasn't wasting a second.

With Lesnar weakened and the champion still on his feet, Kurt Angle prepared himself for the next move in this ever-shifting, hard-hitting contest for WWE's most coveted prize. The stakes had never been higher, and every second counted.

Kurt Angle, having just sent Brock Lesnar crashing into the top turnbuckle with a devastating German suplex, turned his attention to Zlatan Ibrahimović. The Lion of Rosengård was back on his feet, still feeling the effects of his hard-fought battle with Lesnar, but Kurt had some unfinished business with the reigning WWE Champion. The fire in Angle's eyes showed he was a man on a mission, driven by the singular goal of reclaiming the WWE Title he believed was rightfully his.

Since losing the championship at the Royal Rumble, Kurt Angle had been consumed by his quest for redemption. He had managed to defeat Zlatan in a controversial non-title match on SmackDown just 20 days ago, but that wasn't enough. Tonight was his night to make it right, to regain the gold he believed was his.

Kurt ducked under a wild right hand from Zlatan, moving with the speed and agility that only an Olympic gold medalist possessed. He countered with a sharp right hand of his own, catching Zlatan square on the jaw and driving him back into the corner. The blow rattled the champion, forcing him against the turnbuckles as Angle moved in, determined to keep up the pressure.

Michael Cole called the action, his voice filled with excitement. "Kurt Angle's going right after Zlatan! He's got unfinished business with the Lion of Rosengård, and he's looking to settle it right here, right now!"

Tazz added, "And you can see it, Cole — since losing the WWE Title at the Royal Rumble, Kurt's been a man on a mission. He's focused, and he wants that title back. He's not wasting any time going after Zlatan!"

The crowd erupted into a chant of "Angle Sucks! Angle Sucks!" as Kurt continued to unload on Zlatan with a series of hard right hands. Each punch landed with authority, driving the champion further back against the turnbuckles. The chants were loud and fierce, the fans in Safeco Field letting Angle know exactly how they felt.

But rather than letting the crowd's taunts be a distraction, Kurt seemed to feed off their energy. His intensity only grew, his punches coming faster and harder as he hammered away at Zlatan, a look of determination etched across his face.

"He's feeding off the chants!" Michael Cole shouted. "Kurt Angle doesn't care if these fans are against him. He's using it to fuel his fire, to push him even harder!"

Tazz agreed, "Absolutely, Cole! Kurt Angle's got one goal in mind tonight, and that's to walk out of here with the WWE Title. He doesn't care what anyone thinks, he's going for it all!"

Kurt continued to pound away at Zlatan, each strike filled with purpose, each blow a reminder of just how much the WWE Championship meant to him. The fans watched with bated breath, knowing that the intensity in the ring was reaching its boiling point.

Zlatan was pinned in the corner, absorbing the flurry of punches from Angle, his body rocked by the force of the attack. But even as Kurt unloaded with everything he had, Zlatan's eyes remained focused, his spirit unyielding. The Lion of Rosengård was not going down easily, and the WWE Universe could feel the tension mounting as these two fierce rivals battled it out in the center of the ring.

The stakes had never been higher, and every punch, every chant, every moment was pushing this contest toward a dramatic climax. The WWE Championship was on the line, and neither man was willing to give an inch.

Kurt Angle, fueled by the chants of "Angle Sucks!" echoing throughout Safeco Field, continued his relentless assault on Zlatan Ibrahimović. Each punch landed with precision, driving the champion deeper into the corner, leaving Zlatan momentarily dazed. Angle's face was filled with intensity; he knew this was his moment to regain the momentum and prove to everyone — including himself — that he still had what it took to be the WWE Champion.

With Zlatan pinned against the turnbuckles, Kurt shifted his approach. He cocked his arm back and delivered a series of sharp knife-edge chops across Zlatan's chest, the sound of each strike reverberating through the arena like a crack of a whip.

Smack!
Smack!

Zlatan's chest began to redden with each punishing chop, his body recoiling slightly from the sting. The crowd winced in sympathy, but many also cheered for the intensity of the contest. Angle's eyes burned with determination, his lips curled in concentration, every chop an exclamation point in his ongoing quest to reclaim the title.

Michael Cole called the action with urgency. "And listen to those knife-edge chops from Kurt Angle! He's lighting up the chest of the WWE Champion!"

Tazz added, "Those chops hurt like hell, Cole. I've taken them before, and trust me, they sting like a thousand bees! But Kurt Angle is relentless — he's doing whatever it takes to wear Zlatan down!"

Referee Mike Chioda moved in closer, trying to maintain order in this high-stakes bout. "Come on, Kurt! Get him out of the corner!" Chioda instructed, his voice firm but cautious, aware of the intensity pouring out of both men.

Angle, undeterred, fired off another chop that landed with a sharpsmack!before stepping back slightly. He knew he had to keep his focus, but his eyes were filled with hunger, a burning desire to finally reclaim what he believed was rightfully his.

Zlatan winced from the stinging pain in his chest, his breathing heavy, but his eyes remained locked on Angle, his jaw clenched with determination. He had taken the punishment, but the Lion of Rosengård was still very much in this fight.

The fans continued to cheer, sensing that the momentum could shift at any moment. Both men were locked in a fierce battle, every move, every strike charged with intensity. Angle's chops were vicious, but Zlatan's spirit was unbroken, and the WWE Universe could feel the tension mounting with each passing second.

Kurt Angle's knife-edge chops echoed throughout Safeco Field, each strike seeming to cut through the air and land with a loudsmack!against Zlatan Ibrahimović's chest. The WWE Champion's face contorted with pain, but his eyes remained fierce, his determination unwavering. He could feel the intensity of Angle's assault, but he knew he had to find a way to fight back.

Then, in a sudden surge of adrenaline, Zlatan gritted his teeth and pushed back, grabbing Angle and quickly switching positions. Now, it was Kurt who found himself backed into the corner. Zlatan, fueled by the "never say die" attitude that had brought him so much success, unleashed a series of his own knife-edge chops.

Smack!
Smack!
Smack!

"Woo! Woo! Woo!" the crowd chanted, feeling the intensity of every blow. Zlatan's chops were precise and powerful, each one landing with authority, driving the air from Kurt's lungs. The Lion of Rosengård had found his opening, and he wasn't letting it slip away.

Michael Cole's voice was filled with excitement. "Look at Zlatan fight back! The champion is showing why he's at the top of this mountain!"

Tazz added with enthusiasm, "You gotta love it, Cole! Zlatan's not backing down for a second. He's taking the fight right to Kurt Angle!"

With Kurt momentarily stunned, Zlatan grabbed him by the wrist and attempted to whip him across the ring, looking to build on his momentum. But Angle, ever the savvy ring veteran, dug his heels into the mat, reversing the whip and pulling Zlatan back toward him.

In a flash, Kurt shifted his weight, wrapped his arms around Zlatan's waist, and in a seamless motion, executed a belly-to-belly suplex. The suplex sent the champion flying overhead, his body flipping through the air before crashing down hard onto the mat. The impact was brutal, and the crowd gasped at the sudden shift.

"Kurt Angle with a belly-to-belly suplex!" Michael Cole exclaimed. "What a counter by the Olympic Hero! He turned the momentum right back in his favor!"

Tazz was quick to agree. "That's the experience of Kurt Angle, Cole! He's always thinking, always looking for that counter, and he just planted the champion with a beautiful suplex!"

Zlatan lay on the mat, momentarily stunned by the impact, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his breath. Angle got to his feet, a determined look in his eyes, feeling the tide shift once again. He knew he had to keep pressing the advantage, to keep Zlatan grounded if he wanted to walk out of WrestleMania with the WWE Title.

The crowd was electric, sensing the back-and-forth nature of this epic battle. Each man had shown incredible resilience and skill, but the match was still far from over. The WWE Universe watched with bated breath, knowing that with these two competitors, anything could happen at any moment.

Kurt Angle, feeling the momentum shift in his favor, wasted no time. After planting Zlatan Ibrahimović with a devastating belly-to-belly suplex, the Olympic Hero quickly pulled the WWE Champion back to his feet. Angle's eyes were filled with determination; he was laser-focused on reclaiming the title he had lost at the Royal Rumble.

Without hesitation, Kurt grabbed Zlatan's arm and whipped him across the ring with an Irish whip, but just as Zlatan reached the end of the ropes, Kurt yanked him back toward the center of the ring. In one swift, fluid motion, Angle caught Zlatan around the waist and executed a second belly-to-belly suplex, sending Zlatan soaring overhead once again. The champion's body slammed hard into the mat, the ring shaking from the impact.

Michael Cole's voice was filled with excitement. "Another belly-to-belly suplex by Kurt Angle! That's two in a row! He's really taking it to the champion!"

Tazz chimed in with enthusiasm. "You can see the confidence building in Kurt Angle, Cole! He's been here before, and he knows what it takes to win. He's looking to regain that WWE Title!"

As Zlatan lay on the mat, momentarily stunned by the suplex, Kurt stood tall. With a confident grin on his face, Angle spread his arms wide, letting out a loud "Woo!" The crowd in Safeco Field echoed the chant, a mix of cheers and jeers filling the arena. The energy in the stadium was electric, the fans feeding off Angle's newfound confidence.

Kurt's confidence was unmistakable. The three-time WWE Champion felt the momentum building in his favor, his movements filled with purpose and precision. He was set on regaining the title he had lost at the Royal Rumble, and he was showing the WWE Universe exactly why he had held the championship three times before.

"He's feeling it, Cole!" Tazz exclaimed. "Kurt Angle knows he's got Zlatan where he wants him. That confidence is starting to show — he's on a mission to get that title back!"

Angle's focus was intense. He knew he had Zlatan weakened, and he wasn't about to let this opportunity slip away. He moved with purpose, ready to continue his assault, to keep the pressure on, and to prove once again why he was one of the greatest competitors in WWE history.

Zlatan, on the mat, began to stir, his body aching from the impact of the two suplexes, but his spirit was far from broken. The Lion of Rosengård was still in this fight, and the fans could sense that the battle for the WWE Championship was far from over.

The tension in the ring continued to build as the two fierce rivals prepared to go at it once more. Every second mattered, every move could change the course of the match, and the WWE Universe was eagerly awaiting what would happen next.

Kurt Angle stood poised, waiting patiently, his eyes locked on Zlatan Ibrahimović as the WWE Champion struggled to get back on his feet. The intensity of the match had already taken a toll on both men, but Kurt was in control, ready to continue his assault. He could feel the momentum on his side, his confidence growing with each passing second.

As Zlatan finally pushed himself up, breathing heavily, Kurt moved in with lightning speed, slipping behind the champion and wrapping his powerful arms around Zlatan's waist. With a mighty heave, Angle executed a German suplex, sending Zlatan crashing down onto the mat. But Kurt wasn't done. With his hands still clasped tightly around Zlatan's waist, Angle rolled through and lifted the champion once again, hitting a second German suplex, his face focused, his grip unyielding.

The crowd was on its feet, watching in awe as Kurt executed a third German suplex — this time a released version, sending Zlatan flying through the air. The Lion of Rosengård's body flipped before crashing hard onto the mat, the impact sending ripples through the ring. The fans erupted with a mix of cheers and gasps, recognizing the incredible display of power and precision by the Olympic Hero.

"Kurt Angle with a series of German suplexes!" Michael Cole shouted. "The strength, the technique — Kurt Angle is showing everyone why he's a three-time WWE Champion!"

Tazz added, "That's right, Cole! Angle's just suplexing the life out of Zlatan! The champ's gotta be feeling every single one of those!"

Having used a great deal of energy, Kurt took a moment to catch his breath. He stood tall, hands on his hips, watching as Zlatan began to stir on the mat. Kurt's breathing was heavy, but his eyes were sharp and focused, knowing he needed to stay on the attack.

With a quick glance to the crowd, Kurt signaled his intention, waiting patiently for Zlatan to rise again. As soon as the champion made it back to his feet, Kurt moved in from behind, attempting to lock his arms around Zlatan's chest for the Angle Slam. But Zlatan, sensing the danger, managed to slip out of Kurt's grasp, quickly spinning around to face him.

Thinking fast, Zlatan aimed a thrust kick at Kurt's midsection, but Angle, ever the seasoned veteran, caught Zlatan's leg mid-kick. Angle's face broke into a confident smirk as he shook his head, feeling that he had just outsmarted his opponent.

Michael Cole's voice rose with excitement. "Angle catches the leg! He's got Zlatan right where he wants him!"

Tazz nodded, "Uh-oh, Cole! You don't want to be in Kurt Angle's grasp! He's got that look in his eyes!"

But as Kurt spun Zlatan around, looking to capitalize on his advantage, he made a critical mistake. Zlatan, using the momentum of the spin, swung his body and delivered a devastating dragon whip kick, his leg snapping out with precision and power. The kick connected squarely with the side of Kurt's head, and the Olympic Hero was knocked down to the mat immediately, his body crumpling from the unexpected blow.

The crowd erupted with a thunderous cheer as Zlatan's lightning-fast counter landed flush.

"What a counter by Zlatan Ibrahimović!" Michael Cole yelled, his voice filled with excitement. "A dragon whip kick out of nowhere! And Angle is down!"

Tazz added with enthusiasm, "That's the champion's resilience, Cole! He saw the opening and took it! Kurt Angle never saw that coming!"

Kurt lay on the mat, momentarily stunned by the impact of the kick. Zlatan, breathing heavily, staggered but remained on his feet, his eyes burning with determination. The WWE Champion had been battered and bruised, but he wasn't about to give up his title without a fight.

The energy in Safeco Field was electric. The fans could feel the intensity of the battle, knowing that this match could turn on a dime at any moment. With both men down and the stakes higher than ever, the question on everyone's mind was simple: who would emerge victorious and claim the WWE Championship?

Zlatan Ibrahimović, fueled by adrenaline and the chants of the crowd, knew he needed to take a risk to shift the balance of the match in his favor. He staggered to the corner, his body aching but his spirit unbroken, and began climbing the ropes. The WWE Champion perched himself on the top turnbuckle, preparing for a high-risk maneuver that could seal the deal or turn the tide against him.

But as Zlatan steadied himself on the top rope, Brock Lesnar, having recovered from the German suplex into the turnbuckle, suddenly sprang back into action. The Beast Incarnate, determined not to let this opportunity slip away, charged toward the ropes, attempting to meet Zlatan up top.

However, Zlatan saw him coming and, with a swift shove, pushed Brock off the ropes. Lesnar stumbled back, momentarily losing his balance, but Kurt Angle seized this moment of chaos. Seeing his chance, Kurt rushed to the corner, delivering a sharp right hand to Zlatan's jaw, stopping the champion in his tracks. The crowd gasped as Angle began to climb the ropes, setting Zlatan up for something big—something WrestleMania-worthy.

Michael Cole's voice was filled with anticipation. "What is Kurt Angle thinking here? He's climbing up to the top rope with Zlatan! This could be something huge!"

Tazz, sensing the moment, added, "You know Kurt, Cole—he's always got something big in mind. This could be a game-changer!"

Kurt reached the top rope, positioning himself and Zlatan precariously above the ring, looking to execute a top-rope superplex that could potentially shift the entire match in his favor. The tension in Safeco Field was palpable, the fans on the edge of their seats, sensing a WrestleMania moment in the making.

But before Kurt could execute the move, Brock Lesnar, always the opportunist, moved quickly. He got underneath Kurt, his massive arms wrapping around Angle's waist. The crowd roared as they realized what was about to happen—a moment that could only be seen at WrestleMania.

In one spectacular, awe-inspiring motion, Brock used his immense power to lift Kurt Angle off the top rope while Kurt, at the same time, executed the superplex on Zlatan. The impact was devastating. Kurt drove Zlatan down from the top with a superplex while Brock delivered a thunderous powerbomb on Kurt. All three men crashed down to the center of the ring in a collision of bodies and momentum.

The entire arena erupted with a massive chant: "Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!" The fans were on their feet, the spectacle of the move drawing gasps and cheers, a true WrestleMania moment that would be talked about for years.

Michael Cole could hardly contain himself. "Oh my God! Did you see that?! A superplex and a powerbomb in one motion! I've never seen anything like it!"

Tazz, wide-eyed and breathless, added, "I'm speechless, Cole! This is unbelievable! All three of these guys just put it all on the line!"

The ring shook from the impact, and all three men lay sprawled in the center, motionless for a few moments, each competitor feeling the effects of the brutal maneuver. The audience was in a frenzy, the intensity of the match reaching a fever pitch.

This was the kind of moment that defined WrestleMania — three of the best athletes in the world giving everything they had, leaving it all in the ring, fighting for the most prestigious prize in WWE. The tension in the arena was at an all-time high.

Who would be the first to recover? Who would seize the moment? The WWE Universe held its collective breath, waiting to see what would happen next in this unforgettable battle for the WWE Championship.

Brock Lesnar, still feeling the impact of the incredible powerbomb-superplex combination, quickly gathered himself, knowing he needed to act fast if he wanted to capitalize on the chaos in the ring. He crawled over to Zlatan Ibrahimović, who lay sprawled out on the mat, still recovering from the devastating superplex.

Brock wasted no time; he hooked Zlatan's leg tightly and made the cover, pressing his full weight down onto the champion. The referee dropped to the mat, counting.

"One… two…!"

But at the very last moment, Zlatan barely managed to get his shoulder up, his body twitching just enough to break the count. The crowd erupted, cheering for the resilience of the champion.

Michael Cole shouted, "Zlatan gets the shoulder up! Just barely! Brock Lesnar thought he had this match won, but the Lion of Rosengård is still in it!"

Tazz added, "What a show of heart by Zlatan, Cole! He's not letting that WWE Title slip away, not without giving it everything he's got!"

Brock let out a frustrated breath, clearly feeling the strain of the match and the missed opportunity. But his focus remained unbroken. Knowing he had to stay on the attack, Brock quickly turned his attention to Kurt Angle, who was also beginning to stir after the incredible impact. Brock made another cover, hooking Kurt's leg tightly.

"One… two…!"

But once again, Kurt Angle kicked out, just in the nick of time. The crowd was on fire, sensing the desperation and determination of all three competitors. Brock sat up, a look of frustration crossing his face, but he refused to let it slow him down.

Michael Cole continued, "Brock Lesnar is doing everything he can to put this match away! But these men — these warriors — they just won't stay down!"

Tazz agreed, "Yeah, Cole, Brock's got that look in his eye. He knows he's close, but he's gotta stay focused!"

Brock, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, quickly got back to his feet. He grabbed Kurt Angle by the arm, dragging him up, his mind set on ending the match. With a sudden surge of power, he scooped Kurt up onto his shoulders, setting him up for his devastating finishing move — the F5. The crowd gasped, knowing that if Brock hit this, it could be over.

But just as Brock began to spin for the F5, Kurt, ever the skilled technician, twisted his body in mid-air, landing deftly on his feet behind Lesnar. With lightning-fast reflexes, Kurt dropped down, grabbing one of Brock's legs, and executed a flawless single-leg takedown. In the blink of an eye, Kurt transitioned, twisting Brock's ankle and locking in his signature move — the ankle lock!

The crowd erupted in cheers and gasps as Kurt wrenched on the ankle, his face a mask of intensity. Brock's face twisted in pain as Kurt applied more pressure, twisting and torquing his ankle.

Michael Cole's voice was filled with excitement. "Ankle Lock! Ankle Lock! Kurt Angle has the Ankle Lock locked in on Brock Lesnar! Can Lesnar hold on?!"

Tazz shouted, "Angle countered the F5 in mid-air! What a move by Kurt Angle! He's got Lesnar trapped in the middle of the ring!"

Brock gritted his teeth, his muscles tensing as he felt the pain shoot up through his leg. He reached for the ropes, but they were just out of reach. The crowd was on its feet, the energy electric, knowing that this could be the turning point in the match.

Kurt continued to twist Brock's ankle, his grip tightening, his focus absolute. He shouted at Brock, demanding he tap, pulling back with all the strength he had left. But Brock, refusing to give up, began to claw his way toward the ropes, his face contorted with pain, his determination evident.

The question hung in the air: would Brock tap, or could he somehow find a way to escape? The battle for the WWE Championship raged on, each man pushing themselves to their absolute limits.

Kurt Angle had Brock Lesnar exactly where he wanted him, trapped in the center of the ring with the ankle lock cinched in tight. Kurt's face was red with exertion, beads of sweat dripping from his brow, but his focus was unbreakable. He wrenched Brock's ankle with every ounce of strength he had, the intensity of his grip twisting Brock's foot at a painful angle. The crowd was at a fever pitch, sensing that this might be the moment that decided the match.

Kurt shouted at Brock, his voice filled with determination and fury. "Tap out! Tap out!" he demanded, his grip tightening even further. Referee Mike Chioda moved in closer, bending down to Brock's level, his face inches from Lesnar's.

"Brock, do you want to submit?" Chioda asked, looking for any sign of surrender from The Beast Incarnate.

Brock, his face contorted with pain, shook his head vehemently. "No!" he shouted, refusing to give in, refusing to let the agony defeat him. The fans cheered for his resolve, but they could see the pain etched on his face, the struggle evident in his every movement.

Michael Cole shouted over the roar of the crowd, "Lesnar says no! He's not giving up! But how long can he hold on, Tazz?"

Tazz responded with intensity, "I don't know, Cole! Brock Lesnar's never submitted in his career, but if anyone can make him tap, it's Kurt Angle! That ankle lock is locked in tight!"

Brock knew he had to move. With every bit of strength he could muster, he began to crawl toward the ropes, dragging his massive frame inch by inch, his hand reaching out desperately. The crowd rallied behind him, sensing the sheer willpower it was taking to keep going. His fingertips brushed the bottom rope, so close to freedom.

But Angle wasn't about to let him escape. Sensing Brock nearing the ropes, Kurt quickly repositioned himself, dragging Lesnar back to the middle of the ring with a fierce yank, his grip on the ankle unyielding. The fans gasped as Brock was pulled back into the center, the pain in his ankle only intensifying.

Michael Cole exclaimed, "Angle drags Lesnar back to the middle of the ring! This could be it! Brock has never tapped out before, but will it happen tonight?"

Tazz added, "Lesnar's in no-man's land, Cole! He's got nowhere to go, and Angle is cranking that ankle like there's no tomorrow!"

Brock's face twisted in agony, beads of sweat pouring down his face, but he still refused to submit. The fans chanted his name, urging him on, "Let's go, Lesnar!" over and over, hoping their support would somehow help him find the strength to fight on.

Lesnar clenched his teeth, his body shaking from the strain, every nerve in his leg screaming in pain. But he had never submitted in his career, and he wasn't about to start now. The tension in the arena was palpable, everyone on their feet, waiting to see if this would be the moment The Beast would finally break.

Would Brock tap out to Kurt Angle's relentless submission? Or would he find some way, somehow, to fight out of the pain and continue the battle for the WWE Championship? The entire WWE Universe held its breath, knowing that this was a moment that could define the careers of both men forever.

Brock Lesnar, every muscle in his body straining from the pain and exhaustion, once again began to crawl toward the ropes, his face twisted in determination. The fans were on their feet, cheering him on as he desperately reached out, his fingers stretching toward salvation. Finally, with one last, desperate lunge, Brock grabbed the bottom rope, his hand gripping it tightly.

Referee Mike Chioda immediately called for the break. "Let go, Kurt! Let go of the hold!" Chioda demanded, his voice firm.

Kurt Angle, his face a mix of frustration and begrudging respect, reluctantly released the ankle lock. But Angle wasn't done with Brock yet. As soon as he let go, Kurt began to stomp repeatedly on Lesnar's injured ribs, each kick landing with a sickening thud, further wearing down The Beast. The crowd watched in a mix of awe and concern, knowing that every blow was driving Brock closer to the edge.

Michael Cole's voice was filled with urgency. "Brock Lesnar manages to reach the ropes, but Kurt Angle is relentless! He's targeting those ribs again, not letting Lesnar catch a break!"

Tazz added, "Angle knows those ribs are the weak spot, Cole! He's going after them like a shark smelling blood in the water!"

After delivering a final, punishing stomp, Kurt backed away from Brock, his eyes blazing with intensity. He knew he had to keep the pressure on, to stay on the attack if he wanted to walk out of WrestleMania with the WWE Championship. With a burst of speed, Angle charged at Lesnar, looking to inflict more damage.

But Kurt got a bit overzealous, his determination blinding him to the risk. As he closed in on Brock, Lesnar, with a burst of strength, used Angle's momentum against him and backdropped Kurt over the top rope, sending him crashing to the outside. The crowd erupted in cheers as Angle hit the floor hard, leaving Lesnar alone in the ring with Zlatan Ibrahimović.

Brock took a moment to catch his breath, leaning against the ropes as he bad-mouthed Angle, his frustration boiling over. But his attention on Angle proved costly. Zlatan, seeing an opportunity, quickly capitalized. As Lesnar turned his attention back to the ring, Zlatan was already on the move.

Lesnar, filled with rage, charged at Zlatan, looking to finish the champion once and for all. But Zlatan, ever the savvy competitor, saw the charge coming. In one swift, fluid motion, Zlatan spun and caught Brock in mid-charge, hoisting him up and slamming him down with a thunderous spinning spinebuster. The move was reminiscent of the legendary Arn Anderson, and the impact was immense, driving the air from Lesnar's lungs and leaving him sprawled on the mat.

Michael Cole shouted, "Spinebuster! What a spinebuster by Zlatan! He just took Brock Lesnar down with authority!"

Tazz, his voice filled with excitement, added, "Ibra just planted Lesnar with that spinebuster, Cole! And it looks like Zlatan's got something big in mind! Get ready, Seattle, 'cause the Lion is ready to roar!"

Zlatan, feeling the momentum shift in his favor, knew that the end was near. He got to his feet and looked around the ring, the fans chanting his name, "Ibra! Ibra!" Feeding off their energy, Zlatan performed his signature cut-throat gesture, signaling that the end was indeed near.

With purpose in his stride, Zlatan made his way to the corner. The crowd's anticipation grew as they watched him, knowing what was coming next. Zlatan began to stomp on the mat, his footfalls echoing through Safeco Field, each stomp growing louder and more intense.

The WWE Universe knew what was coming — Zlatan was setting up for his signature move, the superkick he called "The Lion's Roar." The fans were on their feet, the excitement in the arena reaching a fever pitch as Zlatan prepared to strike.

The tension in the ring was electric. Brock Lesnar, still reeling from the spinebuster, began to stir, unaware of the danger lurking behind him. The Lion of Rosengård was ready, his eyes locked on Lesnar, waiting for the perfect moment to unleash his finishing move. The end was near, and everyone in Safeco Field knew they were about to witness something special.

Brock Lesnar, dazed and struggling to get back on his feet, wobbled in the center of the ring, his body still feeling the impact of the spinebuster from Zlatan Ibrahimović. The crowd watched with bated breath as Zlatan, positioned in the corner, saw his moment. His eyes narrowed, and his body tensed like a coiled spring. With a burst of speed, Zlatan charged out of the corner, his leg swinging up in a blur of motion.

Crack!

Zlatan's signature superkick — "The Lion's Roar" — connected squarely with Brock's jaw. Lesnar's head snapped back, and his body collapsed to the mat. The crowd erupted, knowing this could be it. Zlatan quickly dropped down, hooking Brock's leg tightly, making the cover. The referee, Mike Chioda, dove to the mat to count.

"One… two…!"

But before Chioda's hand could hit the mat for the third time, Kurt Angle, with a desperate burst of speed, slid back into the ring and broke up the pin just in time, pushing Zlatan off Brock and stopping the count. The fans gasped, the near-fall sending waves of excitement through Safeco Field.

Michael Cole's voice was filled with shock. "Angle breaks up the pin! Just in the nick of time! That was almost it! Zlatan nearly had Lesnar beaten!"

Tazz added, "What timing by Kurt Angle! He knows what's at stake — he wasn't about to let this match end without him in the mix!"

As the pin was broken, Zlatan and Kurt quickly scrambled back to their feet, each man desperate to seize the advantage. But Kurt, with the instincts of a seasoned veteran, acted first. He caught Zlatan off guard, hoisting him up onto his shoulders and executing his signature move — the Angle Slam. The impact was massive, the force of the move driving Zlatan hard into the mat. The crowd erupted, sensing the possibility of a victory.

"Kurt Angle hits the Angle Slam!" Michael Cole shouted. "This could be it! Kurt Angle could win the WWE Championship right here!"

Kurt, confident that he had finally put the champion away, quickly dropped down and hooked Zlatan's leg, pressing his shoulders to the mat for the cover. The referee, Mike Chioda, was in position, and his hand slapped the mat.

"One… two…!"

But just before the third count, Zlatan kicked out with a burst of energy, his shoulder lifting off the mat at the last possible moment. The crowd exploded in a mix of shock and awe, unable to believe the resilience of the champion.

Michael Cole's voice was filled with disbelief. "No! Zlatan kicks out! He kicks out! Kurt Angle cannot believe it!"

Tazz chimed in, "What a show of heart by Zlatan! He's not giving up that WWE Title without a fight, Cole! He's still in this!"

Kurt Angle, his face a mask of frustration and disbelief, slammed his fist into the mat, his confidence shaken. He had been sure he had the match won, but Zlatan had defied the odds yet again. Angle got to his knees, leaning over to argue with Mike Chioda, his face inches from the referee's. "That was three!" Angle shouted, his voice filled with frustration.

Chioda shook his head firmly, holding up two fingers. "It was only two, Kurt! Just two!"

Kurt's frustration grew, his jaw clenched in anger, but he knew he couldn't afford to waste time arguing. The WWE Championship was on the line, and every second counted. The fans were on their feet, knowing that the match was reaching a fever pitch, with all three men still in contention for the most coveted prize in WWE.

The battle raged on, each man pushing himself to the limit, and the WWE Universe knew they were witnessing an instant classic that would be remembered for years to come.

Kurt Angle, his frustration boiling over, glanced back at Zlatan Ibrahimović, who lay on the mat, slowly recovering from the punishing Angle Slam. He ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, eyes darting around the ring as he wondered what more he had to do to reclaim the WWE Championship. He had thrown everything he had at Zlatan, and still, the champion had kicked out. The intensity of the moment was palpable; Kurt knew he needed something more to finally put Zlatan — and Brock Lesnar — down for good.

Michael Cole, his voice filled with admiration, declared, "What an incredible match we are witnessing here at WrestleMania! These three men have given it everything they've got!"

Tazz nodded in agreement, excitement clear in his voice. "I told you, Cole! Right from the beginning, this was going to be a battle! Three of the most determined, toughest athletes in WWE fighting for the most prestigious prize in this business — and they are pulling out all the stops!"

Kurt Angle, his mind racing, made a decision. He quickly slid out of the ring, his eyes scanning for any possible advantage. Knowing that a Triple Threat Match had no disqualifications, Kurt headed to the side of the ring and lifted the apron, searching for whatever he could find to turn the tide in his favor. The fans buzzed with anticipation, sensing that things were about to escalate to another level.

After a moment of rummaging under the ring, Kurt began pulling out weapons, one by one. First, he grabbed a steel chair, tossing it into the ring with a loud clang. The crowd reacted, knowing things were about to get even more intense. Next, Kurt dragged out a trash can, complete with its lid, and hurled it over the top rope, the metallic echo ringing throughout Safeco Field. Finally, he pulled out a kendo stick, its bamboo frame splintered and worn, but still capable of delivering a devastating blow.

Michael Cole spoke with urgency, "And look at Kurt Angle! He's bringing out the weapons! Remember, folks, there are no disqualifications in a Triple Threat Match! Anything goes!"

Tazz, with a hint of excitement, added, "That's right, Cole! This is gonna get ugly! Kurt Angle's not playing around anymore — he's looking to end this, once and for all!"

Kurt slid back into the ring, his eyes blazing with intensity as he looked over his options. The steel chair, the trash can, the kendo stick — all tools of destruction at his disposal. He knew he needed to make a decisive move, to take both of his opponents out of the equation and walk out of WrestleMania as the WWE Champion.

Lesnar and Zlatan were both slowly getting to their feet, the effects of the grueling match etched on their faces, but Kurt Angle was ready to strike. The crowd was on their feet, sensing that the match was reaching its climax, knowing that the next few moments could determine who would walk out with the WWE Championship.

Angle grabbed the steel chair, gripping it tightly, and looked between his two adversaries. He had his plan, and he was ready to execute. The WWE Universe watched, breathless, knowing that whatever came next would be a turning point in this incredible battle.

Kurt Angle, clutching the steel chair tightly in his hands, felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He knew he needed to make a statement, to unleash a level of brutality that would finally break his opponents and secure his path back to the WWE Championship. The memory of Team Angle's ambush just ten days ago on SmackDown — where they had decimated both Zlatan Ibrahimović and Brock Lesnar with chair shots — flashed in his mind. Tonight, Kurt intended to deliver an encore performance, only this time, he would be the one standing tall at the end.

Zlatan, still reeling from the Angle Slam, was the first to his feet, but his back was turned to Angle. Seizing the moment, Kurt raised the steel chair high above his head and brought it down with a sickeningcrackacross Zlatan's back. The champion's body arched in pain, a grimace etched across his face as he crumpled to his knees, the impact echoing through Safeco Field.

Michael Cole shouted, "Steel chair shot to the back of Zlatan Ibrahimović! Just like what happened on SmackDown! Angle is reliving that brutal assault!"

Tazz added, "That's right, Cole! Ten days ago, Team Angle left these two men lying — and it looks like Kurt's doing it again, but this time on his own!"

Angle's eyes were fierce, filled with intensity. He had no time to waste. With Zlatan momentarily incapacitated, Kurt turned his attention to Brock Lesnar, who had just managed to get to his feet. Without hesitation, Angle swung the chair again, bringing it crashing down across Lesnar's back. The sound of metal meeting flesh reverberated through the arena, and Brock dropped to his knees, clutching his lower back, a grimace of pain on his face.

Kurt, feeling the power of the chair in his hands, delivered another vicious chair shot to Lesnar's back, each one echoing like a gunshot throughout the arena. Brock's body tensed with each impact, but his resolve didn't waver. The Beast Incarnate had taken countless hits before, but Kurt's assault was relentless.

"Kurt Angle is unleashing hell with that steel chair!" Michael Cole exclaimed. "He's trying to take out both of his opponents, just like Team Angle did on SmackDown!"

Tazz added with enthusiasm, "This is a no-disqualification match, Cole! Angle's doing whatever it takes! He's got that fire in his eyes — he wants that title back!"

The fans were on their feet, a mix of boos and cheers filling the air, knowing they were witnessing an all-out war. Kurt Angle, feeling the weight of every chair shot, knew that this was his moment. The steel chair was his weapon of choice, and he wasn't going to stop until both Zlatan and Brock were out of commission.

Zlatan and Lesnar, both on their knees, struggled to rise, their bodies battered and bruised. But Kurt wasn't done. He had more left in him, more punishment to dish out. He raised the chair once more, determined to make his next move count. The crowd held its collective breath, sensing that the intensity in the ring had reached a critical point.

The WWE Championship was still up for grabs, and Kurt Angle was doing everything in his power to make sure he left WrestleMania with that title around his waist.

Kurt Angle, feeling the momentum firmly in his grasp, tossed the steel chair aside, his focus shifting to the next weapon in his arsenal — the kendo stick. His expression was one of fierce determination, his eyes locked onto Zlatan Ibrahimović, who was still on his knees, recovering from the brutal chair shot. The crowd buzzed with anticipation, sensing that Angle was about to unleash more punishment.

With a swift motion, Kurt grabbed the kendo stick, its bamboo frame splintered and menacing. He raised it high above his head, preparing to strike Zlatan down with a vicious blow. The memory of Team Angle's brutal beatdown just ten days ago on SmackDown filled his mind. He knew that if he could inflict enough damage, he could finally break Zlatan and secure his victory.

"Kurt Angle's got the kendo stick!" Michael Cole shouted, his voice filled with tension. "This could get ugly real fast! He's looking to use it to great effect on Zlatan!"

Tazz added, "No disqualification, Cole! Angle can do whatever he wants! And right now, he's got that kendo stick primed and ready!"

Kurt swung the kendo stick down with all his might, aiming directly at Zlatan. But at the last possible second, Zlatan, acting on pure instinct and desperation, reached up with a sudden move and delivered a low blow to Angle. His fist connected squarely with Kurt's groin, and the Olympic Hero's face contorted in shock and pain.

The crowd gasped, a mixture of surprise and excitement filling Safeco Field.

"Oh! A low blow by Zlatan!" Michael Cole shouted. "Desperation move by the champion, but it's all legal in this match!"

Tazz couldn't help but chuckle, "No disqualifications, Cole! Zlatan did what he had to do! That's the Lion of Rosengård for you, willing to go to any lengths to keep that title!"

Kurt Angle's knees buckled, his grip on the kendo stick loosening as he stumbled back, the pain radiating through his body. The stick dropped from his hands, clattering to the mat. His face twisted in agony, his body folding over as he gasped for breath, the unexpected blow momentarily halting his assault.

Zlatan, still on his knees, took a deep breath, knowing he had just bought himself a crucial few seconds. The fans erupted, sensing the shift in momentum, their chants of "Ibra! Ibra!" growing louder. Zlatan knew he had to act fast, to capitalize on this opening, and regain control of the match.

The battle for the WWE Championship was far from over, and the champion had just proven he was willing to do whatever it took to retain his title. The tension in the arena was at its peak, and the WWE Universe could feel that another turning point was just moments away.

Zlatan Ibrahimović, sensing the shift in momentum after the low blow to Kurt Angle, knew he had to press his advantage. He quickly rolled out of the ring, his eyes scanning the ringside area for another weapon. Spotting a discarded trash can lid nearby, he snatched it up, feeling the cool metal in his hand. The crowd cheered him on, sensing that the WWE Champion had a plan to turn the tables on Angle.

As Zlatan climbed back into the ring, Brock Lesnar, still recovering from the earlier onslaught, saw what Zlatan was doing and grabbed a second trash can lid that had been left on the mat. The two competitors exchanged a quick glance, an unspoken agreement forming between them — a temporary alliance forged in their shared desire for revenge against the man who had orchestrated the brutal attack by Team Angle just ten days earlier on SmackDown.

Michael Cole, his voice filled with excitement, shouted, "What's this? Lesnar and Zlatan, forming an unlikely alliance here! Both men have trash can lids, and it looks like they're setting their sights on Kurt Angle!"

Tazz added with a grin, "Payback's a bitch, Cole! Angle's about to get a taste of his own medicine!"

Kurt Angle, still reeling from the low blow, tried to regain his footing, unaware of what was coming next. As he stumbled to his feet, both Zlatan and Lesnar moved in, trash can lids raised high. With a coordinated strike, Zlatan swung his lid at Angle's head,clang!The metal connected with a loud, echoing sound that reverberated through the arena, knocking Angle back into Lesnar's direction.

Before Angle could even register the pain, Lesnar followed up with a thunderous shot of his own,clang!driving the lid into the side of Kurt's head, sending him stumbling back toward Zlatan.

The crowd erupted in cheers, sensing the sweet taste of retribution in the air. Zlatan, not missing a beat, swung again,clang!driving the metal lid across Angle's back. The force of the blow sent Kurt spinning, right into the waiting arms of Lesnar, who delivered another brutal shot,clang!that echoed through Safeco Field.

Michael Cole yelled, "They're ping-ponging Kurt Angle back and forth! This is payback for that attack ten days ago! Angle's getting a taste of his own medicine!"

Tazz, thoroughly enjoying the moment, laughed, "Look at this, Cole! It's like a game of human pinball, and Angle's the ball! This is what happens when you mess with Lesnar and Zlatan!"

With each swing, the crowd's cheers grew louder, feeding off the energy in the ring. Angle's body jerked back and forth, helplessly caught between the blows. Zlatan and Lesnar, normally fierce rivals, were united in their desire for revenge, each strike a reminder of the beatdown they had suffered at the hands of Team Angle, with Kurt as the instigator.

Kurt's legs began to wobble, his body struggling to stay upright under the barrage of hits. The metallic clanging of the trash can lids rang throughout the arena, each strike louder and more emphatic than the last. The fans were on their feet, fully immersed in the drama unfolding before them, sensing that Angle was getting exactly what he deserved.

Zlatan and Lesnar, fueled by the roar of the crowd, continued their assault, their faces filled with determination. Angle, once the orchestrator of chaos, now found himself caught in the crossfire of his own making. The tension in the arena was electric, the energy palpable, as the WWE Universe witnessed a moment of pure, poetic justice.

With each brutal clang of the trash can lids, Kurt Angle found himself more disoriented, his body swaying and his vision blurred. Zlatan Ibrahimović and Brock Lesnar, normally bitter rivals, were working in perfect harmony, dishing out punishment with a shared sense of purpose. Angle's face twisted in confusion and pain; he had no idea if he was in Seattle or on Mars.

Sensing that the time had come for a final blow, Zlatan and Lesnar exchanged a quick glance and nodded in sync. With a coordinated swing, both men brought their trash can lids down on Kurt Angle's head with a resoundingCRACK!The force of the dual impact sent Angle crumbling to the mat, his eyes glazed over, utterly dazed.

Michael Cole could barely contain his excitement. "And Angle goes down! Knocked senseless by Zlatan and Lesnar! He doesn't know if he's in Seattle or Mars right now!"

Tazz added with a chuckle, "That's what you get, Cole! Angle's been ping-ponged around the ring, and he's paying for all those sins from SmackDown!"

With Angle down and seemingly out of the picture, the temporary alliance between Zlatan and Lesnar dissolved just as quickly as it had formed. Brock Lesnar turned his attention to Zlatan, his eyes filled with that familiar intensity. He knew he had a golden opportunity in front of him to claim the WWE Championship. Without hesitation, Lesnar scooped Zlatan up onto his massive shoulders, setting up for his devastating finishing move — the F5.

The crowd held its breath, sensing the end could be near. Brock spun Zlatan around in preparation for the F5, but Zlatan, showing his incredible agility and ring awareness, managed to twist his body in mid-air. In a split second, he reversed the move, wrapping his arm around Brock's head and driving him down to the mat with a tornado DDT.

The impact was huge. Brock's head spiked into the canvas, his body crumpling to the mat in a heap. The crowd erupted, roaring with excitement at the sudden and stunning counter.

Michael Cole shouted, "DDT! DDT! Zlatan with the counter! A tornado DDT by the WWE Champion! What a move!"

Tazz added, "What a reversal! Lesnar thought he had him, but Zlatan turned it into a DDT! That's the mark of a champion right there — thinking on your feet!"

Zlatan lay on the mat, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he felt the energy of the crowd surging around him. Brock Lesnar, stunned and shaken, clutched his head, clearly feeling the effects of the tornado DDT. The WWE Universe was on its feet, fully invested in this incredible battle for the WWE Championship.

The momentum had swung back in Zlatan's favor, but all three men were down, each of them feeling the exhaustion and pain of this grueling match. The crowd continued to chant, their excitement growing with every second, knowing they were witnessing a classic WrestleMania moment.

Would Zlatan capitalize on this opportunity to retain his title, or would Lesnar or Angle somehow find a way to turn the tide once more? The battle raged on, the WWE Championship hanging in the balance.

Zlatan Ibrahimović knew he had no time to waste. With both Kurt Angle and Brock Lesnar down and the WWE Championship on the line, he had to act quickly to seize this precious opportunity. The Lion of Rosengård, still feeling the rush from his stunning tornado DDT counter, quickly moved to apply his signature submission hold — the Malmö Bridge, a bridged variation of the sharpshooter.

With a swift, calculated motion, Zlatan crossed Brock Lesnar's legs and locked them under his own. Then, with immense power and precision, he bridged back, pulling Brock's legs up and arching his own body into a perfect bridge. The crowd gasped as Zlatan cinched in the hold, the intensity of his grip evident in his face, his muscles taut and focused.

Brock's face contorted with pain, his arms flailing for balance, his muscles straining against the pressure being exerted on his lower back and legs. The pain was immediate and searing, radiating through his spine as Zlatan wrenched back with all his might, using every bit of leverage he could muster.

Michael Cole's voice was filled with urgency. "Zlatan's got the Malmö Bridge locked in! Will Lesnar tap? Will Lesnar tap? Brock Lesnar has never submitted before, but he's in big trouble here!"

Tazz added, "Zlatan's got that hold cinched in tight, Cole! This is one of the most painful submission holds in wrestling! Lesnar's gotta be feeling every bit of it!"

Brock gritted his teeth, beads of sweat pouring down his face as he tried to fight through the pain. He shook his head violently, refusing to give in. "No!" he grunted through clenched teeth, his voice filled with determination.

Referee Mike Chioda, positioned perfectly next to Brock, leaned in closer, watching for any sign of submission. "Brock, do you want to submit?" he asked, ready to call it if necessary.

But Brock shook his head again, his face twisted in agony. "No!" he shouted, his voice straining as he fought against the pain. The crowd was on its feet, sensing the drama of the moment, chanting Lesnar's name, urging him to fight on.

Michael Cole shouted, "Lesnar says no! But how much longer can he hold on? The pain must be unbearable!"

Brock, with every ounce of strength he could summon, slowly began to crawl, his fingers clawing at the mat as he desperately tried to reach the ropes. His muscles burned, his body screaming in agony, but he refused to quit. The fans were in a frenzy, sensing the intensity of the struggle.

But Zlatan, feeling Brock's movement, sensed he needed to act fast. With a determined grunt, he adjusted his grip and dragged Lesnar back to the center of the ring, resetting the hold and applying even more pressure. Brock's face contorted with fresh pain as he found himself pulled back, farther away from salvation.

Tazz shouted, "Look at Zlatan! He's dragging Lesnar back to the middle of the ring! He's not letting him get away! The champion is in control!"

Brock's body shook with effort, his eyes squinting shut, every muscle straining against the hold. The pain was intense, but the determination on his face was clear. The question hung in the air: would Brock Lesnar finally submit, or could he somehow find a way to escape the Malmö Bridge?

The WWE Universe watched with bated breath, knowing they were witnessing an incredible struggle for survival, for the WWE Championship, and for pride. The battle was not over yet, and anything could still happen in this unforgettable WrestleMania moment.

Kurt Angle, still dazed from the brutal barrage of trash can lid strikes, slowly began to come to his senses. He blinked rapidly, shaking his head to clear the fog, and looked up to see Brock Lesnar trapped in Zlatan Ibrahimović's Malmö Bridge, the painful bridged sharpshooter locked in tight. Angle knew he had to act fast; if Brock tapped out, Zlatan would retain the WWE Championship, and Kurt's chance would be gone.

Kurt's sharp wrestling instincts kicked in, and he noticed Zlatan's legs, stretched out and vulnerable in the bridged position, a rare opening in the champion's otherwise airtight submission hold. Sensing an opportunity, Kurt moved quickly, diving toward Zlatan's extended leg. He clasped one of Zlatan's legs in his powerful hands and, with a sudden twist, applied his signature move — the ankle lock.

The crowd roared in surprise and excitement as Kurt yanked hard on Zlatan's ankle, forcing him to release the Malmö Bridge on Brock Lesnar. Zlatan grimaced in pain as Kurt twisted his ankle with expert precision, his grip tight, his face a mask of intensity.

Michael Cole's voice rose with excitement, "Kurt Angle with the ankle lock! He's got Zlatan now! Forcing him to release Lesnar!"

Tazz added, "What a move by Angle! He saw the opening and went right for it! Now he's telling Zlatan to tap out!"

Kurt shouted at Zlatan, "Tap! Tap!" his voice filled with a mix of frustration and determination, knowing that he had Zlatan in a vulnerable position. The crowd's noise reached a fever pitch, everyone on their feet, sensing another turning point in this epic battle.

But Zlatan, refusing to give up, shook his head defiantly, his face twisted in pain but filled with resolve. "No!" he shouted, his voice strained but strong. The fans began to rally behind him, chanting his name, "Ibra! Ibra!"

Kurt, sensing that Zlatan wouldn't give in so easily, tightened his grip, twisting the ankle even further, applying more pressure, trying to force the champion to tap. But Zlatan, digging deep into his reserves of strength and determination, began to twist his body, looking for a way out.

With a sudden surge of energy, Zlatan managed to shift his weight and roll through the ankle lock, using his momentum to reverse the hold. In one fluid motion, Zlatan trapped Kurt's legs, rolled him over, and reapplied the Malmö Bridge, locking Kurt in his own submission hold!

The crowd erupted into a deafening roar as Zlatan executed the stunning counter.

Michael Cole shouted, "Zlatan reverses it! He's got Kurt in the Malmö Bridge! What an incredible counter!"

Tazz was just as amazed, "Unbelievable! Zlatan just turned the tables on Kurt Angle! This is why he's the WWE Champion, Cole!"

Kurt Angle's face was now a picture of shock and pain, his own legs trapped in the painful bridged sharpshooter. He clawed at the mat, his hands reaching desperately for the ropes, but Zlatan held on tight, wrenching back with all his strength.

Zlatan yelled through clenched teeth, "Tap, Kurt, tap!" The crowd echoed his sentiment, the energy in Safeco Field at its peak. Kurt's eyes were wide with pain, his body shaking, knowing he was in a dire situation.

Would Kurt find a way to escape the Malmö Bridge? Would the champion retain his title with this incredible reversal? The WWE Universe watched, breathless, as the battle for the WWE Championship continued to unfold in this unforgettable WrestleMania showdown.

Brock Lesnar, slowly regaining his strength after enduring the painful Malmö Bridge, looked up and saw Kurt Angle trapped in the same hold, his face contorted in agony. The sight of his rival suffering snapped Brock into action. With a burst of energy, he lunged forward, breaking up the hold and freeing Kurt from Zlatan's clutches.

The WWE Universe roared as Brock quickly scooped Kurt Angle onto his shoulders, the crowd sensing what was coming next. With a primal roar, Brock spun Kurt around and delivered a thunderous F5, the impact shaking the ring. Kurt's body hit the mat with a resounding thud, and the fans erupted in cheers, knowing that Angle was likely out of the equation.

Michael Cole shouted, "F5! Brock Lesnar just planted Kurt Angle with the F5! This could be it!"

Tazz added, "Lesnar's taking out everyone in his path, Cole! He's a man on a mission!"

But Brock wasn't done. With Kurt Angle down, Brock turned his attention to Zlatan Ibrahimović, who was still recovering from the grueling match. Brock, determined to end the match and claim the WWE Championship, scooped Zlatan onto his shoulders, looking to deliver another F5.

However, Zlatan, ever resourceful and resilient, sensed the danger. As Brock spun him around, Zlatan managed to twist his body and roll through, catching Brock off guard with a quick roll-up. The referee dropped down to count.

"One… two…!"

But Brock powered out, his strength too much for the roll-up to hold. The crowd gasped, the near fall sending waves of excitement through Safeco Field.

Michael Cole exclaimed, "Zlatan almost had him! What a reversal, but Brock Lesnar powers out at two!"

Tazz responded, "You gotta hand it to Zlatan, Cole — he's showing incredible agility and quick thinking! But Lesnar's not going down that easily!"

Zlatan, not wasting a second, tried to capitalize on the momentum, but Brock was ready. As Zlatan charged forward, Brock went for a clothesline, aiming to take the champion's head off. But Zlatan ducked under the swinging arm, bouncing off the ropes and coming back with incredible speed. Showing amazing agility for someone of his size — 6'5" and 255 pounds — Zlatan launched himself into a tilt-a-whirl headscissor, flipping Brock Lesnar through the air and sending The Beast sprawling.

The crowd erupted in awe, amazed at the athleticism and skill of the WWE Champion.

Michael Cole shouted, "Look at that agility! Zlatan with a tilt-a-whirl headscissor on Brock Lesnar! Unbelievable!"

Tazz added, "This guy is something special, Cole! That's not something you see every day from someone his size!"

With Lesnar dazed, Zlatan quickly scooped him up onto his shoulders, showcasing his own power and determination. He ran Brock toward the corner, dropping him face-first onto the top turnbuckle with a Snake Eyes, the impact leaving Lesnar stunned.

Zlatan, sensing the end was near, bounced off the ropes, building up speed as he lined up for a spear, intending to drive the air from Lesnar's lungs. But as Zlatan charged forward, Brock, with his instincts kicking in, caught Zlatan in mid-air and countered with a devastating spinebuster.

The ring shook from the impact, and the crowd gasped, the power of the move leaving Zlatan momentarily motionless on the mat.

Michael Cole's voice was filled with urgency, "Spinebuster by Brock Lesnar! What a counter! Lesnar's going for the cover!"

Brock quickly dropped down, hooking Zlatan's leg tightly as the referee made the count.

"One… two…!"

But once again, Zlatan kicked out, his shoulder shooting off the mat at the last possible moment. The crowd roared in approval, the resilience of the champion shining through in this grueling contest.

Tazz couldn't believe it. "Zlatan kicks out! This match is unbelievable, Cole! These guys are giving it everything they've got!"

The intensity in the ring was at an all-time high. All three men had been pushed to their limits, and the WWE Universe was on the edge of their seats, knowing that the next move could be the one that finally decides the match. The battle for the WWE Championship raged on, and the fans knew they were witnessing something truly special.

Brock Lesnar, filled with adrenaline and determination, slowly rose to his feet. The Beast Incarnate, sensing the moment was ripe for something big, made a rare decision. He climbed the turnbuckle, his massive frame moving with surprising agility as he ascended to the top rope, a place rarely visited by someone of his size and power. The crowd in Safeco Field could feel the anticipation building, their excitement growing with every second.

Michael Cole's voice trembled with excitement, "What is Brock Lesnar doing? He's going to the top rope!"

Tazz added with a tone of disbelief, "Brock's going high-risk, Cole! You don't see that every day from Lesnar! Seattle is feeling it, Cole! It could be Brock's time!"

Brock took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the arena as he steadied himself on the top rope. The energy was electric, the fans buzzing with anticipation. He knew he had to make this count. With a surge of courage, Brock launched himself into the air, attempting a Shooting Star Press — a move rarely seen from a man of his size, but one that had thrilled audiences before.

However, as Brock twisted through the air, Kurt Angle, still recovering on the mat, sensed the incoming danger and rolled out of the way just in time. Brock crashed hard onto the canvas, his body landing awkwardly, the impact sending shockwaves through the ring. The crowd gasped collectively, unsure if they had just witnessed a spectacular moment or a disastrous fall.

Michael Cole shouted, "Oh no! Lesnar goes for the Shooting Star Press, but he crashes and burns! Angle moved out of the way!"

Tazz, his voice filled with concern, added, "Lesnar's hurt, Cole! That was a high-risk move, and it didn't pay off! He landed awkwardly — you can see it on his face!"

Zlatan Ibrahimović, who had witnessed the attempt, quickly moved toward Brock, concern etched on his face. He knew the distance Brock had attempted was a bit too far, and the landing looked off. Quietly, Zlatan leaned in close, asking, "Brock, are you okay?"

Brock, his face slightly dazed, shook his head, blinking rapidly as he tried to regain his senses. "I… I don't know," he mumbled, clearly disoriented from the crash landing.

Zlatan, understanding the seriousness of the situation, repeated his question, "Are you okay, man? Can you continue?"

Brock, determined despite the pain and confusion, nodded slightly. "We have to finish the match," he murmured, trying to clear his head, his pride and competitive spirit unwilling to concede.

Zlatan subtly signaled to Kurt Angle, who was now back to his feet, that the match should continue. Kurt nodded, recognizing the gesture, and quickly moved into position. He dropped down to make a cover on the fallen Lesnar, hooking the leg tightly.

"One… two…!"

But somehow, someway, Brock kicked out on pure instinct, his shoulder shooting off the mat just before the three-count. The crowd erupted, amazed by Lesnar's resilience and determination to keep fighting despite the rough landing.

Michael Cole was almost breathless, "Lesnar kicks out! How did he do that? This man has incredible resilience!"

Tazz added, "Brock's running on pure instinct, Cole! He's dazed, he's confused, but he's not giving up! All three men are catching their breath now — what a match this has been!"

All three competitors lay on the mat, gasping for air, each of them feeling the effects of this brutal, exhausting battle. The fans were on their feet, the energy in the arena reaching an all-time high. They knew they were witnessing something special — a match where every man was giving everything he had, where nothing was certain, and where the next moment could change everything.

Who would rise first? Who would seize the moment and claim the WWE Championship? The WWE Universe held its breath, knowing that the climax of this unforgettable WrestleMania showdown was just moments away.

Kurt Angle, using the ropes to pull himself up, sensed the moment was his. He could see Brock Lesnar, still reeling and barely conscious, a dead weight on the mat. Determined to seize this opportunity, Kurt staggered over to Brock, dragging him back to his feet. The Beast was limp, his body weakened from the grueling battle, and Kurt knew he had to strike while the iron was hot.

With a roar of effort, Kurt hoisted Brock up and executed a powerful Angle Slam, sending Lesnar crashing back down to the canvas. The crowd erupted, sensing that Angle might have finally done it. Fired up and filled with intensity, Kurt yanked the straps of his singlet attire down from his shoulders, a trademark signal that he was ready to finish the match. The energy in Safeco Field was electric; the fans could feel the end was near.

But in his excitement, Kurt didn't notice Zlatan Ibrahimović, who had just pulled himself up in the opposite corner, biding his time, waiting for his moment. As Kurt turned around, Zlatan exploded forward, his leg snapping up with incredible speed.

CRACK!

Zlatan's signature move, "The Lion's Roar," connected perfectly, the superkick landing square on Kurt's jaw. Angle's eyes glazed over, his body collapsing to the mat in an instant. The crowd gasped while Michael Cole shouts "The Lion's Roar connecting!" and Tazz quipping, "Good night, sweetheart!" as Kurt lay flat, out like a light.

But the kick had taken a lot out of Zlatan as well. He bent over, hands on his knees, breathing heavily, trying to gather the strength for one more move. He knew he had to finish it, to end this war and retain his WWE Championship. After a long moment, Zlatan signaled for another Lion's Roar, the crowd buzzing with anticipation.

Brock Lesnar, still reeling from the Angle Slam, struggled to get to his feet. He was running on pure adrenaline, dazed and barely aware of where he was. As Zlatan lined him up, ready to deliver a final blow, Brock instinctively ducked at the last second, moving purely on instinct.

With a burst of energy, Brock scooped Zlatan up onto his shoulders, his face a mask of determination. The crowd roared, sensing what was coming. In one fluid motion, Brock spun Zlatan around and delivered the F5, sending the champion crashing to the mat with a thunderous impact.

Michael Cole shouted, "F5! F5! Brock Lesnar hits the F5 on Zlatan! This could be it!"

Tazz, his voice filled with excitement, yelled, "He's got it! Lesnar's going for the cover!"

Brock, still feeling the effects of the match and the botched Shooting Star Press, stumbled slightly but quickly dropped down, hooking Zlatan's leg tightly. The referee, Mike Chioda, slid into position, and the crowd counted along.

"One… two… three!"

The bell rang, and the arena erupted in a mixture of shock, awe, and jubilation. Brock Lesnar had done it. He was the new WWE Champion. Tony Chimel, standing ringside, lifted the microphone to his lips, his voice echoing through Safeco Field.

"Here is your winner and the new WWE Champion, Brock Lesnar!"

The fans exploded in cheers as Brock Lesnar, still dazed and unsteady from the intense match and his high-risk gamble, stumbled back into the corner. Mike Chioda approached, handing him the WWE Title. Brock stared at it for a moment, his eyes still slightly unfocused, but slowly a smile spread across his face. He clutched the belt tightly, lifting it above his head as the realization of his victory began to sink in.

Michael Cole's voice was filled with awe. "Brock Lesnar is the new WWE Champion! What an unbelievable finish to an incredible match! Lesnar, despite everything, is back on top of the mountain!"

Tazz added, "The Beast has done it, Cole! Even after everything, after the crash and burn, Brock Lesnar is standing tall as the new WWE Champion!"

The crowd continued to roar, celebrating the culmination of an epic battle. Brock, still feeling the pain and exhaustion of the match, leaned against the ropes, the WWE Title clutched tightly to his chest, the roar of the fans filling the arena. He had done it — he was the new champion, having overcome every obstacle thrown in his path.

The image of Brock Lesnar, holding the WWE Championship high above his head, would be etched in the memory of every fan in Safeco Field, a fitting end to an unforgettable WrestleMania moment.

As the deafening cheers of Safeco Field filled the air, Brock Lesnar stood in the center of the ring, the WWE Championship belt clutched tightly in his hands, his chest heaving from exhaustion. His face, still marked with the remnants of the grueling battle, began to soften as the realization of his victory settled in. But even amidst the celebration, there was a sense of camaraderie in the air.

Kurt Angle, still recovering from the brutal Lion's Roar and F5, slowly pushed himself up from the mat. He looked at Brock, his face a mix of disappointment and admiration. He knew what it felt like to leave everything in the ring, and he knew that tonight, all three of them had done just that.

Zlatan Ibrahimović, though clearly drained and feeling the sting of not retaining his title, slowly got to his feet. He wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced around the arena, feeling the buzz and respect emanating from the 54,000 fans in Seattle. He had come into his first WrestleMania as champion and left as something more — a true warrior who had proved his mettle on the grandest stage of them all.

There was a moment of stillness as all three men — Brock Lesnar, Kurt Angle, and Zlatan Ibrahimović — found themselves standing face to face. The intensity of the match faded into the background, replaced by a mutual recognition of the battle they had just fought. The crowd, sensing the gravity of the moment, began to clap and cheer, their applause growing louder with every passing second.

Michael Cole's voice was filled with respect, "Listen to this! A standing ovation from the WWE Universe here in Seattle, showing their appreciation for these three incredible athletes!"

Tazz, equally moved, added, "What a moment, Cole! All three of these guys went to war tonight, and they earned every bit of this respect!"

Kurt Angle extended his hand first, his eyes meeting Brock's. There was a beat, a pause, as if the weight of their shared history hung in the air. Then Brock, his face softening into a smile, reached out and shook Angle's hand firmly. The crowd cheered, recognizing the moment between two of the greatest competitors in WWE history.

Zlatan, standing to the side, watched with a nod. He then extended his own hand to Kurt, and they too shared a firm handshake, a sign of respect between former rivals who had pushed each other to their absolute limits. Finally, Zlatan turned to Brock, the new WWE Champion, and extended his hand.

Brock, still breathing heavily, looked at Zlatan for a moment before nodding. He reached out and shook Zlatan's hand, acknowledging the young champion's incredible performance. The crowd's applause grew louder, the appreciation for all three men palpable in the air.

The 54,000 fans in Safeco Field continued to cheer, offering a standing ovation to the three warriors who had just given them an unforgettable match. The arena was filled with chants of "Thank you! Thank you!" as the three competitors stood together in the center of the ring, basking in the respect and admiration from the WWE Universe.

Michael Cole summed it up perfectly, "What a moment of respect! These three men have shown the world what WrestleMania is all about — heart, passion, and the will to be the best!"

Tazz nodded, "Absolutely, Cole. Tonight, we saw not just great athletes, but great warriors. They left it all in the ring, and they earned the respect of every fan here tonight."

Zlatan, though not leaving with the WWE Championship, stood tall, feeling a sense of arrival. His first WrestleMania had been a proving ground, and he knew he had passed the test with flying colors. The fans continued to cheer, showing their appreciation for the young superstar who had given everything he had.

Brock Lesnar, Kurt Angle, and Zlatan Ibrahimović shared one final look, a silent acknowledgment of the war they had fought, before turning to the crowd, raising their hands in unison. The applause continued, echoing through the rafters, a fitting tribute to three men who had made history that night.

As the scene faded, one thing was clear: WrestleMania had delivered yet another unforgettable moment, and the WWE Universe had witnessed a match for the ages.

XXXX

Backstage at WrestleMania 19, the energy that had filled Safeco Field just minutes ago was replaced with a quieter, more somber atmosphere. Brock Lesnar, the new WWE Champion, was on a stretcher, EMTs and trainers surrounding him, carefully checking his vitals and assessing the damage from his botched Shooting Star Press. Brock's face was pale, a mix of cold sweat and heat making him feel both chilled and feverish. He was dazed, his eyes struggling to focus. His breathing was uneven, his body acting on instinct, like a wounded animal trying to protect itself.

"Get the Fuck off me!" Brock barked, shoving at the hands that were trying to stabilize him, his instincts to fight overriding any sense of calm.

Gerald Brisco, a veteran backstage presence, moved closer, his hands up in a calming gesture. "Easy, Brock, easy," he said softly. "Nobody's going to hurt you. Just calm down, okay?"

Zlatan Ibrahimović, still feeling the effects of the match, held an ice pack to the back of his head. His girlfriend, Trish Stratus, the new Women's Champion, stood by his side, her face a mixture of concern and admiration for her partner. She squeezed his arm lightly, a silent show of support.

One of the trainers leaned over Brock, his face serious. "You should consider yourself lucky, Brock," he said. "You could have broken your neck or worse with that landing. The way you're moving… it's likely you have a concussion."

Brock's eyes blinked slowly, still trying to make sense of everything, his body tense with a mixture of adrenaline and fear.

Zlatan, feeling a tug of curiosity, noticed one of the EMTs rushing past him, heading somewhere with urgency. His instincts kicked in, and he decided to follow. The EMT stopped outside Kurt Angle's locker room, the door slightly ajar. Inside, Zlatan saw Kurt sitting on a bench, his body shivering, a look of discomfort etched across his face.

"Kurt, you okay?" Zlatan asked cautiously, stepping into the room.

Kurt's teeth were chattering, his body visibly shaking. He shook his head slowly, the pain evident in his eyes. "No… no, I'm not," he replied, his voice strained. "I'm feeling cold… so cold. Can… can you get a blanket?"

Without hesitation, Zlatan grabbed a blanket from the locker room shelf and draped it over Kurt's shoulders. Kurt pulled it around himself, trying to warm up, his body still trembling.

Zlatan turned to Karen Angle, Kurt's wife, who stood nearby, her face filled with worry. "How bad is it?" Zlatan asked quietly.

Karen sighed deeply, her eyes filled with concern. "It's bad," she admitted. "His neck injury… it's been bothering him for the past month, and tonight made it worse. We're flying back home first thing tomorrow for the surgery."

Zlatan nodded, absorbing the gravity of the situation. He turned back to Kurt, his expression softening with concern. "Are you going to be okay, Kurt?" he asked, genuinely worried for his fellow competitor.

Kurt forced a small, reassuring smile, despite the pain. "I'll be fine," he said, his voice a little stronger now. "Got myself a self-made nurse, don't I?" he joked, glancing at Karen.

Karen rolled her eyes but managed a small smile, squeezing Kurt's shoulder gently.

Zlatan smiled back, appreciating Kurt's humor despite the circumstances. He nodded respectfully and turned to leave the locker room, giving Kurt and Karen some space. As he exited, he could still hear the soft murmur of their conversation behind him, the concern in Karen's voice clear.

Zlatan walked back down the corridor, Trish at his side, her hand slipping into his. "How's Kurt?" she asked softly, sensing the heaviness in his expression.

"He's… he's got to have surgery," Zlatan replied, his tone subdued. "His neck. It's been bothering him for a while."

Trish nodded, understanding the weight of the situation. "He'll be okay," she said gently. "Kurt's tough. Just like you."

Zlatan gave her a small smile, appreciating her support. They continued walking down the corridor, their steps echoing in the quiet backstage area, the aftermath of WrestleMania 19 still settling in. Tonight had been a battle, both in the ring and beyond it, and they had all emerged from it with a newfound respect for each other and a deep understanding of the cost of greatness in the world of WWE.