There is an old cuento, a story told by my abuelo when I was just a niño. He said that inside every man, there live two wolves — dos lobos.

One is light. Honor. Compassion. Hope. The other is darkness. Rage. Hatred. Envy. These two wolves, he said, are always fighting. Every day. Every moment. And the one that wins… is the one you feed.

That story has stayed with me all my life. Through the blood, through the battles, through the victories and defeats, I have felt those wolves inside me. They have torn at my soul. They have whispered to me in the silence of the Temple of Bones.

And now, as I stand here, campeón, I see those same wolves in the eyes of my opponents — Ezekiel Graves and Nero.

Ezekiel… mi hermano en la oscuridad. You have fed your wolf too long. The preacher’s voice that once spoke of light has turned hollow. Your faith is not faith anymore; it’s obsession. You claim to speak for your God, but I see the truth. I see the wolf behind your words, the hunger for power dressed as divine purpose. You are not serving heaven — you are feeding your rage. You want Nero not because he is evil, but because he reminds you of yourself. The reflection you cannot stand to face.

And Nero… el hijo del caos. You have your own wolf. The wild one. The one born from fire, from resentment, from pain. You feed yours differently. Not with belief, but with destruction. Every time you tear something down, every time you fight back against the system, against Graves, against the world itself, that wolf grows stronger. But what happens when there is nothing left to burn, Nero? What happens when the fire eats everything, even you?

You see, mis enemigos, both of you think the other is the problem. Graves thinks he must destroy Nero to save the world. Nero thinks he must destroy Graves to free it. But the truth, amigos, is that neither of you are fighting each other — you are fighting yourselves.

You feed your wolves to destroy one another, but in the end, it is those wolves that will consume you both.

And then there is mi compañero, El Mariachi Muerte.

He and I… we know what it means to live with the wolves. We have walked the line between light and shadow for many years. We have been tempted, sí, by power, by vengeance, by pride. But we learned something that you two never have — to control the wolf, you must first understand it. You cannot starve it. You cannot kill it. You must discipline it.

That is the luchador’s way.

A luchador is balance. A man of spirit and fury, of grace and fire. We fight not just our opponents, but ourselves. The mask we wear is not to hide — it is to remind us of what we fight for. To separate the man from the monster.

When the wolves come for blood, when Graves feeds his faith and Nero feeds his rage, the two of you will tear each other apart.

That is why we will endure. That is why we will win.