>>17459389A spotlight hit the ramp, “It’s Time to Play The Game” filled the air. The crowd lost its collective mind as Triple H, the King of Kings, stepped out—not as the corporate COO, but as the Cerebral Assassin of old, sledgehammer in hand. Clad in his leather jacket and boots, he marched to the ring with purpose, his eyes locked on The Rock. The Game had returned to end this once and for all.
The other champions parted like the Red Sea as Triple H climbed into the ring. Rock, battered and bruised, staggered to his feet, defiance still flickering in his gaze. He spat at Triple H’s feet and raised his fists, ready to go down swinging. But Triple H didn’t flinch. With a nod to Cody, who had pulled himself up in the corner, Triple H swung the sledgehammer—not at The Rock’s body, but at the mat, a warning shot that echoed like thunder. The Rock froze, and in that split second, Cody surged forward, hitting a desperation Cody Cutter that dropped The Rock to his knees.
The champions closed in. Bron with a Frankensteiner. Gunther with a powerbomb. Tiffy with a Reverse STO. Roman with a Superman Punch. And finally, Triple H, looming over The Rock, delivered a Pedigree that planted the Final Boss face-first into the mat. The Rock lay still, his reign of terror over.
Triple H knelt beside Cody, helping the broken warrior to his feet. The referee slid back into the ring, counting the pin as Cody draped an arm over The Rock’s motionless form: one, two, three. The bell rang, and the stadium exploded. Cody Rhodes was still the WWE Champion, saved by an unprecedented alliance of titleholders who’d had enough of The Rock’s tyranny.
As Triple H raised Cody’s hand in victory, the other champions stood tall around the ring, a united front against the fallen Final Boss. WrestleMania ended not with one hero, but with a team of legends proving that even the biggest stars could be brought down when the fight was for something greater than themselves.
