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Justin Roberts' voice trembled as he forced the words out over the chaos. "Here is your winner… AND NEWWWWW… WWE CHAMPION… SANNNNNNDROOOO ZHAAANG!"
Cole sounded devastated. "No… no, no, no… this can't be how it ends."
Lawler's voice was thick with anger. "This is wrong. This is absolutely wrong."
Striker didn't hide his anguish. "The WWE Championship… stolen in the darkest way possible."
Sandro rolled off Big Show and sat up slowly, a wide, satisfied grin spreading across his face as the reality sank in. He laughed under his breath, shaking his head, disbelief mixed with triumph.
The referee retrieved the WWE Championship and hesitated for just a moment before handing it over.
Sandro took it.
He looked down at the title… then hugged it to his chest.
He was World Champion.
No, not just a World Champion.
Double champion.
Sandro pushed himself to his feet, still grinning, still soaking in the venom pouring down from every direction. He raised the WWE Championship high in one hand as the boos intensified.
The rest of the Undisputed System flooded the ring.
Big E. Ryback. Jericho. Barrett. Drew. Ziggler. Kofi. Alexa. Heyman.
Gold everywhere.
Alexa Bliss stepped forward, United States Championship in hand. She smiled up at Sandro and held it out to him. Sandro took it, now holding both titles, one in each hand.
Then Alexa grabbed him by the collar.
And kissed him.
Not a peck. Not subtle.
A deep, unapologetic, passionate kiss, tongues tangling as the crowd lost its mind in fury. Pyro exploded at the entrance stage, golden flames shooting skyward as if the company itself were celebrating the very thing the fans despised.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
"This is disgusting!" Lawler shouted. "Absolutely disgusting!"
After a long moment, they broke apart.
Sandro smirked again, breathless, and raised both championships high above his head, arms spread wide, basking in the hatred.
Alexa turned and lifted her Divas Championship.
Jericho raised the World Heavyweight Title.
Big E and Ryback hoisted the World Tag Team Championships.
Kofi Kingston raised the Intercontinental Championship.
Wade Barrett and Drew McIntyre lifted the WWE Tag Team Titles.
Dolph Ziggler, the only one without gold, simply raised his right hand high, standing tall with the rest.
Paul Heyman stepped forward last.
He looked up at Sandro, eyes shining, then slowly clasped his hands together in a solemn, reverent prayer gesture, bowing his head as if standing before a god.
The image was overwhelming.
The fans booed louder than ever before, some standing, some screaming, some throwing their hands up in rage, the atmosphere bordering on chaos.
"I've never seen anything like this," Cole said, voice shaking. "Every championship. Every single one."
Lawler shook his head. "This is a takeover. This is domination."
Striker finished quietly. "And the WWE… may never be the same."
Sandro didn't care.
He stood in the center of the ring, arms spread wide, titles gleaming under the lights, drowning in the hate, loving every second of it.
The camera slowly pulled back as the Undisputed System posed together, gold everywhere, power absolute.
The screen faded to black.
The credits rolled.
And Night of Champions ended in darkness.
Within seconds of the final frame disappearing from televisions around the world, Night of Champions stopped being a pay per view and became an event that detonated across the internet.
Twitter timelines refreshed so fast they seemed to stutter. Trending lists reshuffled themselves in real time. Wrestling forums crashed under the sheer volume of traffic.
Group chats in WhatsApp lit up like Christmas trees. Screenshots, picture s, slow motion replays, reaction videos, everything flooded out at once, a tidal wave of disbelief, rage, excitement, and awe.
For the WWE Universe, this wasn't just another shocking finish.
This was history.
Hashtags climbed the charts at frightening speed. #NightOfChampions, #UndisputedSystem, #SandroZhang, #DoubleChampion, #WWEHistory, #GodMode, they all battled for the top spot, sometimes swapping places every few minutes.
Fans who had sworn they were "done" with wrestling found themselves glued to their phones again, arguing with strangers, typing essays in 280 characters or less, firing off takes fueled by adrenaline and emotion.
Clips of the cash in replayed endlessly. Big Show's exhausted face. The bell ringing. Sandro's smirk. The kiss with Alexa. Heyman's prayer. The image of every championship raised in unison. It was burned into the collective memory of the industry almost instantly.
For the first time in WWE history, one faction didn't just dominate the landscape.
They owned it.
Every active championship. Every division. Every rung of the ladder, from the tag scene to the midcard to the very top of the mountain. And at the center of it all stood one man, Sandro Zhang, the Maestro of the Undisputed System, now holding the WWE Championship and the United States Championship at the same time.
The first true double champion of the modern WWE era.
The youngest WWE Champion ever.
The ultimate villain.
Fans split almost immediately into camps. Some were ecstatic, practically euphoric. They'd been waiting for this moment for weeks, some for months, watching the pieces fall into place, sensing that something enormous was coming but never quite believing WWE would pull the trigger this hard.
These fans flooded timelines with praise, calling the ending bold, fearless, ruthless. They talked about long-term storytelling, about payoff, about how rare it was to see a faction booked with this level of consistency and conviction.
"This is what wrestling should feel like," one viral tweet read. "I'm angry, excited, and desperate to see what happens next."
Others leaned fully into the mythology. The image of Paul Heyman bowing in reverence sparked a thousand jokes and memes, but also something more.
Fans started calling Sandro "God Mode," comparing his run to a maxed out character in a game, untouchable, unfair, and inevitable. Screenshots of his two belts side by side were edited with glowing effects, crowns, thrones, even mock stained glass windows like a cathedral.
One image in particular went viral, Paul Heyman with his hands clasped together, eyes lifted, frozen in that moment of reverence. Someone captioned it simply,
"When the final boss enters the cutscene."
Another read.
"Undisputed System = Cheat Codes Enabled."
Of course, not everyone was thrilled.
There were dissenters, loud ones, who argued that Sandro and the Undisputed System had been pushed too hard, too fast, too completely. They compared it to the nWo's reign in WCW, some reverently, others critically.
They complained about favoritism, about politics, about power. They said the magic would wear off. They said it was predictable. They said it was being "shoved down their throats."
But even among the criticism, one truth stood firm.
Nobody was bored.
The debates were vicious, passionate, nonstop. Every argument spawned ten more. Every criticism was met with counterpoints. And as hours passed, the overwhelming consensus, whether spoken grudgingly or enthusiastically, was clear. Night of Champions had delivered a moment that people would still be talking about years from now.
The wrestling media wasted no time either.
Podcasts dropped emergency episodes within hours. Analysts recorded reactions in their cars, in hotel rooms, in half lit living rooms at three in the morning. Headlines hit websites across the world, each trying to outdo the last in capturing the magnitude of what had just happened.
"WWE Enters a New Era."
"Undisputed System Completes Historic Takeover."
"Sandro Zhang: The Youngest Champion, the Ultimate Villain."
Journalists dissected every detail. They praised the execution of the cash in, the timing, the way Big Show had been protected in defeat, the brutality of the ambush.
They talked about the symbolism of every title held by one group. Some wondered aloud how WWE would even begin to challenge this dominance without burning through years of potential stories.
One analyst summed it up perfectly during a livestream that quickly went viral.
"We all knew this moment was coming," he said, leaning back in his chair, eyes wide. "But knowing it's coming and actually seeing it happen are two very different things. The shock still hits. And now? Now the real story begins. Because when everyone has gold… egos clash. Power corrupts. And that's when things get interesting."
Speculation also ran wild.
Who would step up? Would Edge seek revenge? Would Big Show get another shot? Could anyone realistically stop them? Was this the beginning of a reign… or the setup for the greatest downfall WWE had ever told?
And hovering over every discussion was one inescapable conclusion.
Sandro Zhang was now standing at the absolute peak of professional wrestling.
While the internet burned, behind the curtain, far from the roar of the crowd and the chaos of the internet, the Undisputed System locker room told a very different story.
The door was shut. The cameras were gone. Kayfabe, at least for the moment, had been set aside.
The atmosphere inside was electric.
Music played softly from someone's phone, competing with laughter, clinking cans, and the low hum of exhausted exhilaration. Championship belts were draped over chairs, leaned against walls, laid carefully across tables like priceless artifacts.
Sweatshirts were thrown over ring gear. Ice packs were pressed against shoulders and knees. The war was over.
They'd done it.
Making history.
Big E leaned back against a locker, still sweaty, still buzzing, shaking his head with a grin. "Man," he said, laughing, "I've been in this business a long time, and I don't think I've ever seen anything like tonight."
Ryback cracked open a drink and nodded. "They're gonna be talking about this one for decades."
Jericho, towel draped around his neck, looked around the room with the satisfied smile of someone who'd seen it all, and still found something new to appreciate. "This," he said, gesturing vaguely at everything, "this is what people forget wrestling can be. When it's right, it's magic."
Wade Barrett sat nearby, arms crossed, WWE Tag Team Title resting against his leg. "Let them hate," he muttered. "That sound out there? That's power."
Drew McIntyre smirked faintly. "Aye. And we've got all of it."
Alexa Bliss sat perched on the arm of a couch, Divas Championship resting casually in her lap, her smile relaxed now, no longer sharpened for the crowd.
Dolph Ziggler paced nearby, animated, energized, soaking it all in even without gold around his waist. Kofi Kingston held his Intercontinental Title with quiet pride, running a thumb over the plate absentmindedly as he listened to the others.
Paul Heyman stood off to the side, phone pressed to his ear, speaking in low, rapid tones, business already moving forward, wheels already turning. Even in celebration, he never truly stopped working.
And at the center of it all sat Sandro.
He was sprawled comfortably on one of the couches, WWE Championship resting beside him, the United States Title laid across his knees. His ring gear was partially peeled away, boots unlaced, hair damp with sweat. He looked… calm. Not smug for once. Not theatrical.
Just satisfied.
He watched his friends celebrate with a soft smile, eyes sharp, taking everything in. This was the moment. The culmination of months of planning, execution, politics, and performance. The payoff wasn't just the gold, it was the reality of it. The fact that they'd actually done it.
His phone buzzed.
The vibration cut through the noise just enough for him to notice. Sandro glanced down, picked it up, and saw the names that made his expression soften instantly.
His parents.
The message was simple, heartfelt, unmistakably theirs. Congratulations. Pride. Love. Words that carried more weight than any chant ever could. They told him how proud they were, how far he'd come, how they'd watched the show despite the late hour, how seeing him hold the WWE Championship made everything worth it.
Sandro exhaled through his nose, smiling a little wider now. He typed back quickly, thumbs flying with practiced ease. He thanked them. Told them he loved them. Told them this was only the beginning.
When he sent the message, he leaned back again, eyes drifting up to the ceiling for a brief moment, letting it all sink in.
That was when Jericho approached.
He tossed a cold can of beer lightly toward Sandro, who caught it easily with one hand. Jericho popped his own open and raised it in a casual toast.
"To the Maestro," Jericho said, voice warm, genuine. "Young, ruthless, and already rewriting the damn history books." Sandro chuckled, tapping his can against Jericho's before cracking it open. He took a long pull, the cold bite welcome after the heat of the ring.
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Name: Alessandro Zhang
Age: 20 (2010)
Birthplace: Orlando, Florida, USA
Brand: WWE - RAW
Wrestling Style: Mixed Of All Styles
Faction: The Undisputed System
Championships History: 1x FCW Tag Team Champions, 1x FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion, 1x TNA World Heavyweight Champion, 1x TNA X Division Champion, 1x WWE United States Champion, & 1x WWE Champion
Other Achievements: 1x Andre the Giant Memorial Battle Royale Winner, 1x Mr. Money In The Bank, & Youngest WWE Champion
Wrestlemania Record: 1 - 0