The Almighty Dominance (by Sunshine) novel Chapter 518

“No—no!” the commentator screamed. His voice cracked over the broadcast. “Please, don’t shoot Alpha! I put my family’s emergency savings on this bet. Please—don’t do it!”

Across the stadium, and across Prussia, people were drenched in sweat.

“Please don’t shoot Alpha.”

“Please let Alpha win.”

“Please…”

For a single, desperate heartbeat, the entire nation prayed for a miracle.

Then Phantom pulled the trigger.

The weapon flashed.

Alpha’s mobile suit vanished in a violent burst of light and twisted steel.

What remained crashed to the arena floor, burning and broken, while the pilot was sealed inside the emergency escape system and violently ejected clear of the wreckage.

In that instant, all of Prussia understood the truth—miracles were not coming for them.

Phantom released the weapon. It clattered uselessly onto the arena floor.

Without haste, without pride, Phantom turned and walked back the way it had entered—slow, calm, untouched by the chaos behind it.

It was as if he had stepped into the stadium not to battle, but to pass judgment—and then depart.

No struggle followed. No clash of equals. He did not lower himself to wrestle in the same mud as the rest.

This was not combat.

It was authority.

The cold, absolute dignity of a high noble.

The silent, crushing dignity of a king.

The stadium detonated.

Alarms blared. Screens flared to life as the automated announcement rolled across every display.

“Phantom of Bluthelm is declared the winner of the third round.”

The words struck like a hammer.

Phantom had become the first overall winner of the 576th Annual Mobile Suit Competition.

“Nooooo!”

The scream rose from the stands in a single, unified howl.

The crowd broke apart. People overturned seats, hurled bottles, smashed anything within reach.

Online feeds flooded with rage and despair. Lifelong savings—gone in a single pull of a trigger. Betting tables wiped clean.

All of Prussia realized, at once, that their money was lost.

Countess Marlene did not scream.

She smiled thinly.

She felt the tide rising—the lawsuits, the accusations, the desperate attempts to void the betting.

Calmly, she lifted her communicator and placed a call to the Prussian Legal Association.

“I want every available lawyer in Prussia,” she said coolly. “All of them. The pay will be exceptional. Your task is simple—build a wall. Anyone who tries to invalidate this betting gets stopped.”

She ended the call without waiting for confirmation.

Even if she paid every lawyer in Prussia for an entire year, it would cost no more than ten billion dollars. To secure seven hundred billion in winnings, it was nothing.

A bargain.

As reports of alleged cheating flooded government channels, thousands of lawyers were already moving—armed with airtight logic, procedural precision, and raw financial hunger—ready to defend that money to the last clause and comma.

While the nation burned, Alex slipped out of Phantom unnoticed.

No cameras caught him.

No one followed.

He left the arena quietly and returned to the class reunion, moving through the noise and chaos as if it no longer touched him.

He was going to see Sofina.

“Alex, the arena is on fire,” Sofina said the moment she spotted him, her voice tight with urgency.

“I noticed.”

“People are screaming.”

“Yes.”

“The markets are crashing.”

“…That too.”

Sofina stopped in front of him and stared, genuinely shaken. “How are you still this calm?”

Alex straightened his coat, smoothing an invisible crease.

“Because when something burns this loudly,” he said quietly, “it means someone just took an enormous amount of money from them.”

He met her eyes.

“A very, very, very large amount.”

Danielle, one of Sofina classmates, rose slowly from her seat and fixed her gaze on Belinda. A slow, poisonous smile curled across her lips.

“So, Belinda,” she said lightly, almost sweet. “About the shit. How would you like it prepared? Do you want to chew it raw, or should I ask the chef to cook it spicy for you?”

Belinda felt her vision go black.

For a second, she honestly thought she might die right there.

Damn it.

How did everything go so wrong?

She never imagined Phantom would win the third competition. Not once. And now—her money was gone. Worse, her father’s money was gone too.

She had already given her word to Tobias—to eat shit if Phantom won.

What else could she do?

If she didn’t give in, she would be forced to eat the filth sitting on the table.

That was unthinkable.

Impossible.

If she broke her promise outright, the crowd would turn savage. They had countless ways to humiliate her, to tear her apart piece by piece.

Humility—humiliation—was the only path left.

And it worked.

Someone finally broke the silence.

“Damn,” he said, voice thick with disbelief. “Getting arrogant Belinda to open her own wallet is harder than pulling teeth.”

“Yeah, he’s right,” another person agreed. “Forget the disgusting stuff. Let’s continue the class reunion. There’s plenty we can still enjoy.”

Belinda exhaled quietly, relief washing over her face.

Then she lifted her gaze and looked straight at Sofina.

“The ring on your hand,” Belinda said, her voice turning icy again. “Keep it for now. The lawyers will come for it soon. So take good care of it… while you still can.”

Alex studied her.

A minute ago she’d been begging, head bowed, voice trembling—yet the moment the pressure lifted, the claws came right back out. The apology was a mask. The greed underneath never even blinked.

He exhaled through his nose, almost amused.

“Fine,” he said softly, a faint smile cutting across his face. “If that’s how you want to play it.”

He didn’t argue. Didn’t raise his voice. He simply lifted his phone and sent a message to Marlena.

“Do we have a deputy general manager with the last name von Yorck? His daughter is Belinda von Yorck.”

The reply came back almost instantly.

“Yes. Hermann von Yorck. What’s the matter, Founder? Any instructions?”

Alex’s smile didn’t move, but his eyes turned cold.

“I want a full investigation,” he typed. “Audit everything. Track every transaction. Find out how much he’s stolen from us.”

A pause.

Then he sent the next line, like a blade sliding free.

“Recover every cent. Lock down the accounts. Freeze what needs freezing.”

And then the last message—short, final, merciless.

“Once it’s clean, fire him. Immediately.”

“Understood,” Marlena replied. “On it.”