Mo Jae is standing in the ring with blood dripping down his face. Belakor's music plays upstaging the victorious Mo Jae. He walks out with mic in hand heading towards the ring.

Belakor: Mo Jae, look at you... standing tall, chin up... have you thought about what I said?

Belakor leaned his tall frame against the turnbuckle, glaring at Jae with sarcastic poison dripping from his words.

Mo Jae: I have two fair victories in competition against you. Hatred poison your mind, and you lack respect for this great sport.

Mo Jae Pauses blood still dripping down his face.

Mo Jae: You bring shame to yourself.

Belakor: Shame? What do you know about shame Jae? Did you acquaint yourself with it during your time on the mat? Wins, losses... in the grand scheme of it all it matters to those who have nothing else to stand for. Wins feed their ego while losses starve it.

Mo Jae: Winning or losing in the end matters little compared to respect. One final thing I will show you the honor and respect always triumph over evil and hatred.

Belakor: Respect? Have I disrespected you? Fine. You want respect?

Belakor exits the ring and grabs the hockey stick lying next to it, and brought it into the ring, dropping it to the floor in front of Mo Jae.

Belakor: Take it. Give meaning to your words here and now.

He put his arms behind his back, allowing Jae to get a free shot if he chose.

Belakor: Nothing? Just like the person wearing those robes...

Belakor exits the ring and walks up the ramp, leaving Mo Jae alone.