Rhea's Web.

SummerSlam

20 votes and I'll upload the next chapter.

The air crackled with a primal energy, thick and suffocating. Then, the lights dimmed, plunging the arena into an inky blackness that seemed to swallow all sound. 

A low, guttural rumble began to emanate from the entrance ramp, growing in intensity, a tremor that vibrated through the very bones of the building. 

Slowly, a swirl of deep, pulsating purple smoke began to billow from the stage, thick and ethereal, like a gathering storm cloud. 

It coiled and churned, obscuring the usual fanfare, creating an aura of the unknown.

Out of the swirling haze emerged Y/N. His body was a canvas of war paint. Stark black, geometric lines streaked across his face, framing his eyes like ancient tribal markings. They were pools of darkness, devoid of mercy, reflecting no light, only a chilling focus. 

His expression was one of pure, unadulterated readiness, the look of a predator on the cusp of a hunt. He moved with a deliberate, almost predatory grace, each step measured, each glance surveying his domain. 

This was not merely an entrance; it was a declaration. The Demon had arrived.

Across the arena, the familiar theme music of Edge, The Rated-R Superstar, blared through the speakers. He strode out with his usual swagger, a man accustomed to the spotlight, to the roar of the crowd. 

But tonight, his usual bravado seemed to falter, a flicker of unease in his eyes as he took in the sight of Y/N. The Demon stood unmoving, a statue carved from shadow and smoke, his gaze locked onto Edge. 

He didn't acknowledge the crowd, didn't react to the music. He simply waited, a coiled spring of raw aggression, for Edge to conclude his own dramatic entry. 

The anticipation was palpable, a heavy silence that fell over the arena as Edge finally made his way to the ring, stepping over the boundary into the steel cage that loomed ominously.

The bell hadn't even begun to ring. The referee stood in the center, his hand poised. But Y/N didn't wait for the official signal. The moment Edge's boot grazed the canvas of the ring, Y/N exploded. 

He lunged forward, a blur of purple and black, a force of nature unleashed. He met Edge before the veteran could even regain his footing, crashing into him with a thunderous impact that sent Edge stumbling backward, slamming into the unforgiving steel of the cage wall.

"Ring the damn bell!" Y/N roared, his voice a primal scream that echoed through the sudden silence. The referee, startled but compliant, finally blew the whistle, officially kicking off the brutal contest.

Y/N didn't hesitate. He rolled out of the ring, his movements fluid and unburdened, his eyes never leaving Edge. He sprinted to the apron, launched himself upwards, and delivered a devastating meteora, his body a missile aimed directly at Edge, pinning him not to the mat, but against the cold, hard steel of the cage.