The Almighty Dominance

Chapter 350

Everyone saw Michael launch forward, rage blazing in his eyes as he charged at Alex.

While Alex, fueled by his own fiery anger, threw out a swift jab to meet him.

The spectators held their breath, convinced Alex had sealed his own fate.

Michael, known as the Thunder Fist, was notorious for shattering ten-inch concrete walls with a single punch.

Against a mere human body, survival was impossible.

A deafening explosion shattered the tension.

In an instant, Michael hurtled backward through the air like a ragdoll, crashing brutally onto the VIP seats with a sickening crunch.

The chairs splintered under his weight, sending terrified VIPs scattering in panic.

Michael lay motionless amid the wreckage, eyes wide open but empty, limbs twisted unnaturally beneath him.

The arena plunged into stunned, deathly silence.

No one could process what had just happened.

Michael, the Paris undefeated champion, lay broken and lifeless, defeated by nothing more than a single jab from Alex.

"What the hell just happened?" someone finally muttered, breaking the heavy silence.

"Impossible! Did Michael really lose?"

The whispers quickly became cries of disbelief, growing louder and more frantic.

"This is rigged! That little bastard must've cheated! Someone's messing with the bets!" shouted one furious spectator.

Shock rippled through the crowd, and heads shook in denial.

Lyra gripped the arms of her chair so hard her knuckles turned white.

A tremor surged through her, then another-until her whole body shuddered. Her legs tightened, her breath caught in her throat, and then-

Orgasm.

Release.

A raw, overwhelming climax tore through her as she just won: $300 billion.

She moaned a deep, primal sound-as her body convulsed with the force of it.

Her vision blurred. Her spine arched. Every nerve in her body lit up like fire, electricity ripping through her veins.

As she collapsed back into the leather, chest heaving, lips parted in a euphoric gasp, a slow smile curled across her face.

***

Meanwhile, in the private room overlooking the arena, Gilbert and his associates stood frozen in shock, their faces drained of color.

“How the hell did Michael lose?" Gilbert roared, grabbing a chair and hurling it violently at the arena manager, who flinched but didn't dare dodge.

"Are you absolutely certain Michael didn't throw the fight?"

as he stammered, "He wouldn't

son

explain this goddamn disaster!" Gilbert roared, his voice cracking with rage. His eyes burned like wildfire,

He wanted blood.

wanted Alex's head on a spike after that ambush at the

This

This was humiliation.

it was

speak. Silence reigned until the door burst

in, panic

have a

snapped,

named Lyra placed a bet on Alex's fight against Bill.

voice cracked in

manager said again, his voice barely above a whisper. A bead

a one-billion-dollar bet...

hard, eyes darting like a man delivering a death sentence. Gilbert, blind with rage, seized another chair and smack it at the manager. "Where the hell are we supposed to find fifteen billion dollars?" he bellowed. "That.....that's not the issue, sir," the manager stammered,

he might have

drew a slow, shaky breath,

said, his voice strained

across

clearly. What

in

as it's not fifteen billion...

able to speak. "She took her entire

put it all

asked, his voice dropping

were twenty to one.

echoed like a death

from the table and

useless piece of garbage!" he screamed, striking the manager

the lifeless figure as Gilbert stood gasping for

***

at the arena, a stunned silence fell over the crowd as Alex calmly stepped down

voice carried a quiet resolve, "It's time to

Lyra's eyes brightened instantly.

"You're absolutely right," she

arm tightly as they. walked side by side, completely unbothered

stepped onto the bustling Parisian streets, Lyra glanced at Alex with a playful

starving. Mind grabbing some street food? Anything quick will do." Alex shrugged casually, a faint

the fragrant smoke

laughter rang out, pure and carefree as she spoke animatedly about their

those guys owe us three hundred billion.

chuckle, eyes darkening slightly. "You're asking

instantly. "Why would

sharply, eyes locked on hers, "it's cheaper and easier to just kill

with worry. "You don't think

heavily armed thugs

quickly surrounded Alex and Lyra, their faces twisted in cruel grins. "Everyone!" barked one thug, glaring

unless you're eager to

leaving only Alex and

cold with fury. "You

food without looking