The Almighty Dominance novel Chapter 490

There were eight dukes in Prussia, each ruling a vast territory, each holding power like a king.

Duke Eisenwall was one of them — and he stood firmly with the Technocratic Faction, the new movement that worshipped progress. They believed AI should lead humanity forward, no questions asked.

Opposing them was the Order of Nature, the conservative faction that clung to the old path — humans must follow the law of nature, not machines.

And then there was the Neutral Circle, a third power formed by natural-born dukes and their nobles. They walked a razor-thin line between the two giants, shifting their stance every time the wind changed.

Sofina’s breath tightened the moment she saw Ragnar Eisenwall.

A ghost from her past.

The man she once thought was the brightest star in their youth — the alpha, the golden boy, the one everyone chased.

But he had been her greatest mistake.

Her deepest wound.

The first person who taught her what it felt like to be “unworthy.”

Ragnar strutted toward them in a luxurious tailored suit, arrogance dripping off him in waves.

Beside him stood two women dressed in full designer armor — branded clothes, flawless makeup, and eyes so full of hubris they sparkled like polished knives.

Ragnar’s specialty had never changed:

He believed the world revolved around him.

He lived to stir trouble.

And he looked down on anyone he considered beneath him — especially commoners. Insulting people was practically his signature.

“What the hell are you doing, Ragnar!” Renata snapped.

“What am I doing?” Ragnar laughed, loud and mocking. “I’m allergic to poor people. Especially half-bloods like this man. Commoner trash — no, even lower.”

“That man is not a commoner, you jerk,” Renata fired back. “He’s Marquis Saint-Claire.”

“Oh please,” Ragnar scoffed. “The fallen Marquise? The one with nothing left but a title? No soldiers, no land, no power? Spare me. Get out of here.”

Alex stood still, rainwater dripping from his hair, his clothes soaked through.

His fists clenched — tight, controlled, furious.

He could break Ragnar’s jaw in one hit.

He wanted to.

But no one, not even a Marquis, could lay a hand on a duke’s son. Not unless they wanted their title ripped away and their life shattered in a heartbeat.

So he forced himself to stay still.

To breathe.

To endure.

Because hitting a duke’s heir meant death, no matter who you were.

Renata snapped, “Shut up Ragnar, Say one more word and I swear I’ll—”

Ragnar cut her off with a harsh, mocking laugh. “You? Bite? Don’t make me laugh.”

One of the women beside him echoed him with a shrill giggle.

“My Man doesn’t fight insects.”

Alex raised his head. “You hide behind your father’s title like armor.”

Ragnar stepped forward, slow and predatory, a wolf savoring the moment.

“And you hide behind your dead family’s ashes.”

Sofina’s scream exploded through the garden like thunder.

“Enough! You think cruelty makes you invincible — but it only makes you small. Smaller than the boy I once pitied.”

“Oh damn, you pity Ragnar? Are you insane?” the woman beside him barked out, her voice dripping with spite. “Look at your position now, Sofina— once one of the most beautiful women of our generation.”

“Our belle. Tell me, how do you end up marrying a loser twice? Are you that desperate, you lonely bitch chasing after broke men? Didn’t your family ever teach you about standards?”

Sofina recognized her instantly.

Sybilla Altenhain.

Her old college classmate.

They were never close. Sybilla was too arrogant, too jealous, too obsessed with being the center of attention.

For years she resented Sofina for being crowned the belle of the college instead of her. But everyone knew the truth—Sybilla couldn’t compete.

Not in beauty, not in elegance, not in attitude, not in character.

Still, the woman had one talent: seducing men.

Rumor said she hooked up with so many wealthy guys that they practically funded her entire years of college.

A Count’s daughter, spoiled and entitled. Everyone also knew she had only one target in life—Ragnar Eisenwall. Her family pushed her toward him constantly, desperate to seal the marriage.

“Guys, honestly,” Sybilla continued, clinging to Ragnar’s arm. “My Ragnar hates breathing the same air as this loser. Can somebody kick him out? He’s polluting the place. I don’t even know how they let him in.”

“That man is my guest,” Renata’s irritation snapped like a whip. “Do you think any of you have the right to throw him out? If you hate being here, feel free to get the hell out yourselves. We were here first.”

Sybilla turned her gaze to Alex. She giggled behind her hand, her eyes filled with venom.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify