The Almighty Dominance (by Sunshine) novel Chapter 388

“Shoot him!” Voices erupted, weapons raised in every direction.

“Whoever kills him takes the money!”

Dozens of guns swung toward Alex. But the moment bullets flew, chaos ripped through the crowd.

“Stop shooting! You’re hitting your own men!” someone screamed—right before a stray bullet tore through his chest.

Gunfire roared from every direction, bullets ripping into the wrong targets.

Alex moved like a phantom, weaving through the storm.

Every slash, every sidestep turned their fury back on themselves.

Blades missed him and cut down allies. Bullets tore through bodies meant to be comrades.

The more they fought, the more they destroyed each other.

Men dropped where they stood, some clutching wounds, others falling lifeless with clean shots to the head.

The scene spiraled into pure chaos—blood, screams, and friendly fire turning the battlefield into a slaughterhouse.

From his vantage point, Charles watched in disbelief. To him, Alex wasn’t battling—he was toying with them.

“Pathetic,” Charles spat, his voice dripping with scorn. “Hundreds of you, and you can’t kill one man.”

Shame burned across his face.

He turned away, disgusted, as Alex began dropping fighters one by one.

Every strike sent another man crashing to the ground, unconscious. The faster Alex moved, the higher the bodies piled.

One of the leaders rushed to him, desperate. “Sir Charles, wait! We still have more men. Give us time. We’ll finish him.”

Charles’ tone was ice. “If you kill him, I’ll pay as promised.”

“But, you’ll never win against that monster.”

With that, he left the carnage behind, striding toward the highest floor of the arena.

A private jet waited, its engines humming in readiness.

“As long as I hold Gilbert’s fortune and Jasmine in my grasp, I can control Alex,” Charles muttered as he climbed aboard. His jaw tightened with regret.

“Damn fools. It was a mistake trusting them. Maybe I searched for the wrong kind of killer. I need more than brutes—I need a superhuman killer.”

Two bodyguards dragged Jasmine onto the jet, forcing her into a seat. She struggled, eyes burning with rage.

“Charles, I’m your little sister! How dare you do this? Father will never forgive you.”

Charles studied her, a sigh heavy on his lips. “Listen, Jasmine. I swore I’d never kill you. I only need you to lure Alex to me. Once he comes, I’ll end him myself.”

“He’ll kill you, Charles. You’re disgusting.”

The jet rumbled, preparing for takeoff. Alex was still down in the stadium, tearing through wave after wave of attackers.

“I haven’t found a man alive who can kill him,” Charles said, half to himself.

“But everyone has a weakness. The people he loves, the ones he protects—someone will make him bleed. Someone will make him destroy himself. That would be the sweetest victory.”

“You’re sick,” Jasmine spat, hatred lacing every word.

Charles’ eyes hardened. “No, sister. Since you and Father cut off my funds, this is the only way to get Gilbert’s inheritance. I’ll have what’s mine.”

Meanwhile, back in the arena, ten minutes had passed.

Over a hundred men already lay scattered across the floor, groaning or unconscious.

Alex strode deeper into the stadium, only to find another chamber filled with hardened killers. Their blades gleamed, their eyes feral.

The leader stepped forward, lips curling into a cold smile. “Outside were the fodder. In here, you face the elite. Kill him.”

His hand dropped to signal the attack—

But before anyone could move, the air shifted. Alex blurred, faster than sight.

In a heartbeat, his hand clamped around the leader’s throat. The room froze in stunned silence.

“I don’t have time for games,” Alex growled, his voice like thunder shaking the room. “Tell me where Jasmine Kingston is.”

As Alex entered, chaos was already unfolding. A group of thugs surrounded a heavyset man—Mike—who was trying to talk his way out.

“Wait!” Mike shouted, sweat rolling down his forehead.

“I’m warning you! This place belongs to Lord Morettie, one of my biggest clients. If you touch me, you’re dead!”

A sharp crack echoed as an old man in a fine suit slapped Mike so hard he crashed to the floor.

“You dare threaten me?” the old man sneered, voice booming. He towered above them, rage burning in his eyes.

“You work for him? Do you even know who I am before you tried to steal my woman? I’m Leo, Lord Morettie’s father, you worthless insect!”

The room erupted in gasps.

“Lord Morettie’s father?” The words spread like fire through the crowd.

Faces drained of color. Mike’s especially—he looked like a ghost. His so-called client was nothing compared to the man standing over him now. He was finished.

Earlier that night, Mike had seen a beautiful woman in the old man’s arms.

Arrogant and greedy, he had ordered his thugs to snatch her. He never imagined she belonged to Morettie’s father.

“Weren’t you so bold just now?” The old man’s voice dripped venom as he kicked Mike hard across the face. Mike spat blood onto the carpet.

“How dare you steal from me? You want death? I’ll give it to you!”

Three more savage kicks drove the breath from Mike’s lungs. He groaned, but not a word escaped his lips.

“You worthless dogs!” the old man roared, pulling a pistol from his jacket. “Do you really think you can stand against me? Get on your knees! Break the legs of anyone who refuses!”

“On your knees!” Leo’s lackeys barked, swords flashing as they pressed steel against Mike and his bodyguards’ throats.

Terrified, they dropped, kneeling in panic, faces pressed to the floor.

One lackey’s eyes flicked to Alex, who stood watching silently. “Hey! Why aren’t you kneeling?”

Alex raised a brow, voice calm. “You’ve got this wrong. I don’t know them. I’m just here to watch.”

“Doesn’t matter,” the man snarled, lifting his blade to Alex’s throat. “In this room, everyone kneels. Or you die where you stand. Choose.”