The Kendo Verdict | Original Extreme Wrestling

He carried violence like a habit, not a strategy. Barbed wire tore skin and wrote its own rules across the ring. A kendo stick cracked like thunder—wood splintering, bodies folding, pain echoing with every swing.

Chaos was his language.

He didn’t finesse the fight; he dragged it through steel and scars until only endurance mattered. Blood wasn’t a setback—it was proof. The ring became a riot held together by rage and refusal to quit.

In Original Extreme Wrestling, he stood as raw defiance incarnate—barbed wire wrapped around willpower, kendo stick raised like a verdict.