The Almighty Dominance novel Chapter 519

Ragnar was shaking with rage when he realized Phantom was winning.

That single fact crushed everything.

It meant he had failed his father’s command. It meant he had disgraced the Eisenwall name.

And worse—it meant he would never be chosen as the heir of House Eisenwall.

“Fucking hell,” Ragnar snarled. “This is all because of that bastard Tobias.”

He stormed out of the private reunion lounge, his steps heavy, his chest burning with humiliation and fury.

Outside, several others were pouring out of nearby rooms as well. Faces twisted. Voices raised. Everyone had lost their bets.

The air was thick with bitterness, anger, and despair. No one here was in a good mood.

Ragnar slammed straight into two men.

“Watch where you’re going!” one of them snapped.

Ragnar turned slowly.

Without a single word, he threw his fist.

The punch landed hard.

He was the future duke—a direct descendant of Duke Eisenwall’s blood.

In a world steeped in noble arrogance, Prussian law granted high nobles the right to discipline lower nobles and commoners alike. Power was written into blood, and status was permission.

To Ragnar Eisenwall, that meant freedom.

Freedom to strike.

Freedom to dominate.

Because in this hierarchy, almost no one stood above him.

Aside from the royal family, he believed he could hit anyone he wanted—without consequence.

The two men staggered back. One of them raised his fist, ready to strike back.

Ragnar roared, “I am the son of Duke Eisenwall! Who the hell do you think you are, daring to touch me?!”

The door behind them burst open.

Ten more men stepped out.

Their expressions were cold. Their eyes sharp. None of them looked friendly.

The one in front had a long scar cutting across his face. He looked Ragnar up and down and smiled.

“You’re the duke’s son, huh?” the scarred man said calmly.

“Yes!” Ragnar shouted, his voice shaking with fury.

“Then you must be rich,” the man replied, his smile widening. “Funny thing is—I just lost a lot of money today.”

He tilted his head slightly.

“Beat him.”

The ten men didn’t hesitate.

Fists came down like rain.

“Wait!” Ragnar screamed, panic finally breaking through his arrogance. “If you touch me, all of you will be executed! You’re attacking a noble!”

The scarred man laughed.

“So what?” he said casually. “If I were afraid of the law, I wouldn’t be working underground.”

Back inside the reunion hall, Belinda sat stiffly in her seat, her mind racing.

Her pride was shattered. Her reputation was in ruins. She was desperately thinking of a way to reclaim her dignity when sudden shouting erupted near the main door of the private room.

The noise cut through the hall like a blade.

Everyone turned toward the door.

It flew open.

A group of men stormed inside, their expressions vicious and unrestrained. Tattoos covered their arms, necks, and faces. Knives glinted in their hands. One of them even held a gun loosely at his side.

They weren’t guests.

They weren’t here to eat.

Between them, dragged brutally across the floor, was Ragnar.

His clothes were torn. His face was swollen and bloodied. His once-proud expression was gone, replaced by shock, pain, and disbelief.

The room fell dead silent.

The sight was horrifying—especially for Belinda and the other women.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify