The Almighty Dominance novel Chapter 505

After all the gifts were collected, the class reunion truly began.

People spread across the hall, greeting one another, exchanging stories about their lives, their failures, their victories. Some spoke with genuine nostalgia.

Others smiled while quietly calculating profit, scanning the room for connections to exploit—like multi-level marketers, insurance agents, and investment salesmen hunting for their next target.

Every conversation carried tension beneath the laughter.

Then the announcement dropped.

The Winchester Stadium officially revealed this year’s Mobile Suit Tournament.

A ripple of excitement swept through the room.

From the VIP area reserved for the reunion, the entire stadium lay open before them—vast, gleaming, alive with light. At the center stood the machines themselves.

Mobile suits.

War machines built for human pilots. Three to five meters tall. Capable of flight, space travel, and combat in nearly any environment.

To most people, they were simply giant robots. To those who understood power, they were dominance given form.

Some premium models could even transform into spacecraft.

Only a handful of entities in Prussia were allowed to build them—barely ten companies from selected noble houses held official military licenses.

Every year, those ten showcased their newest innovations in the tournament. Speed. Design. Efficiency. Battery endurance. And finally, raw combat capability.

One name surfaced immediately.

Tobias Bluthelm.

He was their classmate.

Everyone knew the story. Two centuries ago, House Bluthelm had been a giant in mobile suit manufacturing. A legend.

But that glory belonged to history books. For the past forty years, the Bluthelm entry had ranked dead last in the tournament.

Their company stood on the edge of bankruptcy.

“Tobias!” Ragnar shouted, loud enough to draw attention. “I heard you designed your own mobile suit this year. What’s it called again? Trash?”

Tobias—short, thin, with the look of a lifelong engineer—met Ragnar’s gaze. His jaw tightened.

“It’s called Phantom.”

Ragnar laughed. “Phantom. How poetic. Invisible. Unseen. Built on a bankrupt budget.” He sneered. “Are you sure it can even move? Or fly? Or did you forget to install the engine?”

A few people chuckled.

Tobias clenched his fists. “Ragnar Eisenwall,” he said sharply, “if your company hadn’t sabotaged our contracts and stolen clients through underhanded tactics, my family wouldn’t be standing on the brink of collapse.”

Ragnar’s smile widened, cold and arrogant. “Oh? So now you want to cry?” He spread his hands.

“Eisenwall is Prussia’s number one military manufacturer. Weapons. Spaceships. Mobile suits. We make everything. And in this industry, anything is fair—crushing you, owning you, or erasing you.”

He leaned closer, voice dripping with mock generosity. “I already offered to buy your company. One hundred million. That’s a generous price for scrap metal and a dying name. You should be thanking me.”

“You—” Tobias snapped, fury burning through his voice.

“Oh, right,” Ragnar said, feigning thoughtfulness. “That was last year’s offer. One hundred million.”

He grinned viciously. “Now it’s fifty million. And after you lose this tournament—dead last again—I’ll buy what’s left of your company for twenty million.”

Ragnar lowers his voice. “You know what happens if you lose this year, Tobias.”

He smiles thinly. “Your house disappears. Officially.”

Tobias swallows. His hands tremble. “I know.”

Ragnar watches closely. “Then why aren’t you afraid?”

Tobias closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, they’re hollow—but steady.

“Because I already buried my family.”

Ragnar stiffens.

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