The Almighty Dominance

"How... how the hell?" Bill stumbled to his feet, swaying like he'd been hit by a truck.

His eyes were wide, panicked, searching for something that made sense.

His jaw trembled, still stinging from the slap that had thrown him out of the arena like a rag doll.

One hit. Just one.

"This can't be happening... this is impossible!"

Alex didn't flinch.

His voice was steady, almost bored. "You're out there, aren't you? So it is possible."

"No! No! That was no way!" Bill bellowed, veins bulging in his neck.

His face twisted into something between fury and fear. "There's no way you landed that hit! It had to be luck! Just dumb, blind luck!"

With desperate fury, he leaped back into the ring.

"You're dead!" he screamed, throwing himself into a violent, reckless assault.

Every blow was wild, each strike more vicious and desperate than the last.

Yet Alex simply sighed, visibly bored.

One hand slipped lazily into his pocket, the other snapping out with astonishing speed.

His fist slammed brutally into Bill's face with a loud crack.

Alex yawned as if it meant nothing.

Bill reeled backward, clutching at his ruined face.

Blood poured freely from his shattered nose, and his eyes filled with horror and humiliation.

"Why...why is this happening?" His voice trembled, weak and broken.

The stunned crowd gasped in collective disbelief.

Bill, Paris's second-best fighter, a man they'd revered, now stood utterly humiliated.

It looked absurd-like watching a child trying to fight a grown man.

"This can't be happening!" someone shouted.

"How the hell did Alex just wreck Bill?" another voice demanded incredulously.

Faces in the crowd dripped with nervous sweat, shaken by the unexpected

outcome.

Nobody believed their eyes. Alex, a man with no previous record in any fight, had somehow annihilated Bill effortlessly.

Bill stood frozen, fear clutching his heart.

His entire body shook violently, overwhelmed by the realization that he faced someone far beyond his strength.

"Guess we're done here," Alex muttered, turning his back dismissively.

Fighting someone this weak was a waste of time.

But the insults from the crowd poured down relentlessly.

"Bill, you worthless coward!"

"Getting slapped around like a dog in the Paris Arena?! You call that a fight?!"

"You moron! Every damn sponsorship is pulling out-you're done! Finished! You're a walking failure!"

"Kill him, Bill! Do something! You pathetic piece of garbage-I put money on you! Don't you dare lose like this!"

In that moment, Bill felt every shred of his pride, his fame, and his wealth slipping away.

He knew the consequences of defeat-everything he'd built, every deal he'd made, hinged on this fight.

And now, he faced ruin.

Terror seized him. If he lost, his life would be worthless.

The thought of Guise's wrath-the man who'd funded him for this match-filled him with blind, panicked desperation.

In one last frantic, desperate lunge, he tightened his grip on the machete, eyes blazing with unhinged fury.

Letting out a scream soaked in madness and rage, Bill charged forward-no strategy, no fear-just pure, murderous intent.

"Die, bastard!" Bill howled, swinging the blade in a wild arc toward Alex's exposed back.

But Alex moved on instinct-fast, precise, deadly.

For a split second, he forgot to hold back.

His backhand snapped out with raw power, cracking against Bill's skull with a sickening thud.

A blinding flash of pain exploded through Bill's skull.

His vision blurred-then vanished as a sickening crack echoed in his ears.

His neck had snapped. Just like that.

And in the final, fleeting second before the darkness took him, a tidal wave of unbearable regret crashed over him.

He had spent his entire life chasing glory.

Worshiping strength. Sacrificing everything-his time, his peace, even parts of himself to be the best.

And now, it was over. All of it. Erased by one reckless, stupid swing.

If only he hadn't turned back for that one last attack.

Even if he'd lost the match-lost everything-he still had enough saved to walk away.

He could've retired. Lived quietly. Grown old in peace with the woman he loved.

A simple life. A good life.

Quiet. Safe. Happy.

But now... it was gone.

Shattered in a heartbeat.

All of it-for nothing.

He had tried to defy a man leagues above him.

And in the end, Bill realized the most painful truth of all:

He should have walked away.

But regret came too late.

Everything went black.

Bill's lifeless body crashed to the floor, neck grotesquely twisted.

For a moment, shock gripped the arena.

Then the silence erupted into frenzied cheers and wild applause.

The spectators screamed in delight, ecstatic over the brutal spectacle.

Even those who'd supported Bill moments ago now roared in approval, thrilled by the raw, merciless violence.

Alex shook his head in disgust.

"What a cruel, twisted world," he muttered bitterly, walking away as the crowd's savage jubilation echoed behind him.

"How dare you spill Paris blood in my arena!"

A thunderous voice boomed suddenly from above.

A striking figure descended swiftly onto the center stage, lowered by a crane Roist—the very same used to bring down famous performers during grand concerts.

His arrival was nothing short of theatrical, as if a superstar were descending from

the heavens.

The newcomer was a man in his thirties, exuding an aura of raw strength and dominance.

His eyes flashed with a cold fury, piercing and fierce, and his presence alone felt

as immense as a towering mountain.

Everyone recognized him instantly-Michael Thunderfist.

Michael's eyes landed on Bill's lifeless body sprawled across the arena floor.

His jaw tightened with disgust. "You've got some nerve killing someone in my ring.

For this, you're a dead man. I promise you that!"

"Holy shit! It's Michael Thunderfist!" The spectators erupted into wild cheers, their voices trembling with excitement.

"He's the strongest fighter in all of

Paris! One punch from Michael.coet

crumble mountains. That fool doesn't stand a chance!"

"Impressive that the rookie beat Bill, but he's dead meat now that Michael is

here!" another shouted gleefully.noveldrama

"Nobody survives Thunderfist!"

Michael stood proudly at the center of the arena, flexing his legendary power for

the crowd.

In a flash, he unleashed his infamous thunder fists ten rapid-fire times-so swift the spectators saw nothing but blurs.

Only when the giant screen replayed the move in slow motion did the awe-struck audience witness Michael's devastating speed.

Behind the spectacle, Bill's body was quietly dragged away.

Forgotten. Discarded. Just another defeated fighter no one cared about anymore.

"That's Michael for you! Isn't he magnificent?"

Women shrieked and clapped frantically, eyes filled with longing admiration.

Each of them dreamed of marrying Paris's unbeatable champion, craving the wealth, fame, and security his status guaranteed.

Michael sneered down at Alex, his voice dripping with contempt.

"You disgusting murderer! You dare to disgrace this arena with your foul deeds Your existence taints martial arts itself. Today, I'll deliver justice on behalf of the heavens!"

With righteous arrogance, Michael lunged forward, throwing a deadly punch

intended to obliterate Alex completely.

"Oh man, it's over!" voices murmured sympathetically from the crowd.

Alex had shown incredible skill, but nobody believed he could stand against Paris's undefeated legend.

But as Michael's punch tore through the air, sending gusts of wind swirling, Alex met him with an ice-cold glare.

"If you can survive one punch from me,” Alex said, his voice dangerously calm, "I'll

gladly admit defeat."

Without hesitation or restraint, Alex fired a single, explosive punch.

Michael's arrogant smile vanished instantly.

As the devastating force of Alex's strike hit him, he felt like a helpless raft

swallowed by a monstrous fifty-meter tsunami.

His face drained of all color, pure terror filling his eyes as he realized, too late, the

terrible mistake he'd made.

'Damn!'