The Almighty Dominance

"What the hell just happened? Is the fight already over?"

Stunned silence rippled through the crowd as every eye fixed on Chicago's elite fighter, sprawled motionless on the ground-unconscious or asleep, no one could say for sure.

Disbelief ricocheted among the spectators.

Everyone had assumed the janitor stood no chance, yet the battle had ended in a shocking twist. Even stranger, the janitor had merely suggested his opponent sleep—and now the man lay flat, utterly defenseless.

"Impossible!" Byson exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief. “Did that nobody actually win?"

"No way!" Clara spat bitterly. "He must have cheated! How else could he drop Chicago best without lifting a finger?"

"Can anyone explain what just happened?" Zane growled, confusion etched across his face.

"Our top four crumbled after just one speech!"

"What kind of trickery had the janitor employed?"

"He's more dangerous than he looks," Jaxon murmured, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. Even his keen gaze had failed to catch the janitor's secret.

Jasmine exploded with ecstatic laughter, leaping to her feet, triumph shining brightly in her eyes.

"Yes! He did it! Alex, you're amazing!" It was their first victory, and she savored every second.

"What's there to celebrate?" Victoria snapped, glaring at the triumphant figure in irritation.

The crowd erupted into heated speculation.

Though confusion and suspicion lingered, the janitor had undeniably proven the Kingstons could still claim victory.

Alex strutted arrogantly around the ring, lips twisted in scorn. "Anyone else need a bedtime story?" he sneered.

A surge of fury swept through the Chicago ranks. Insulting them was tantamount to playing with fire.

"That arrogant bastard!"

"How dare he!"

"He'll pay for this!"

"Watch your mouth, boy!" Zane bellowed, slamming his palm down furiously. "You're courting death!"

"Enough chatter," Alex shot back coolly. "Come on up and face me if you've got the guts."

"You asked for it!" growled Chicago's third-ranked fighter, a battle-hardened middle-aged warrior, stepping into the ring amid deafening cheers.

"The third rank's joining the fight!"

"That janitor's lost his damn mind. He's dead meat!"

"Well, if he goes down, at least he'll lose to someone worthy."

The whispers surged with grim anticipation.

Byson smirked cruelly. "At least the fool will go out honorably, crushed by a real champion."

The veteran fighter stared Alex down, his voice dripping venom. "Beg for mercy right now, and maybe I'll spare your pathetic life."

“Bow to trash like you?” Alex laughed coldly, his eyes burning with contempt. "How about you get down on your knees instead?"

And suddenly, impossibly, the seasoned warrior's knees buckled, collapsing before Alex, head lowered as if paying tribute.

Shock seized the entire arena.

"What the hell? Did he just surrender?"

"Did Kingston buy him off?"

"Impossible-this can't be real!"

But no explanations emerged as Chicago's third-ranked champion also slumped, unconscious, onto the mat.

"Black magic!" Chicago's second-ranked fighter yelled, eyes wide with panic. "He's using black magic!"

Zane's face turned pale. "You! Get in there and take him down!"

Swallowing hard, the second-ranked fighter murmured a prayer and stepped tentatively into the ring.

But the moment his feet touched the canvas, he too collapsed senselessly, falling limp like a puppet with severed strings.

The crowd gasped in sheer horror. Had they not witnessed it themselves, no one would believe Chicago's elite had fallen so easily to an unknown.

"Did we really lose?" Zane muttered, mind reeling, suspicion clouding his judgment. Had his champions betrayed them?

"Who the hell is that janitor?" Byson choked out, his earlier scorn replaced by pure dread.

Jasmine laughed triumphantly, her voice full of pride. "Did you see that? He's incredible! That's my champion!"

Victoria stood paralyzed, eyes wide, disbelief etched deeply on her face.

"He won? How... how did he do it?"

"Of course he's unbeatable-he's mine, after all!" Jasmine flashed a smile that radiated warmth, eyes gleaming with a tenderness she rarely displayed.

In the ring, Alex stood tall, arms casually folded behind him. His presence radiated

authority, like a mountain daring anyone to climb it.

But soon, boredom crept into his features.

He theatrically stretched and

yawned, then he strolled over to the ring ropes and casually began polishing them with a rag, like the janitor was just doing his shift while the fighters took a day off

Laughter erupted like thunder through the stands, vicious and unrestrained.

Kingston supporters jeered mercilessly, shouting taunts dripping with disdain.

"Is Chicago here just for a nap? Send someone who isn't scared of the janitor!" "Pathetic! Did they travel this far just to lie down?"

Jaxon's eyes hardened into sharp points.

"Seems the Kingstons kept an ace hidden all along," he muttered, intrigue mingling with annoyance.

"Boring,” Alex sighed loudly, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve.

His voice boomed clearly across the arena, smug and confident. "Who's next? Hurry it up I've got toilets waiting. Don't waste my time here."

The Chicago disciples exchanged wary, anxious glances, the tension palpable.

"Jax, this guy's a loose cannon," Zane growled, fists clenched tightly. His frustration was evident, mingling uneasily with worry.noveldrama

With measured calm, Jaxon rose, his eyes ignited by excitement.

He hadn't planned on fighting today, viewing the match as beneath his dignity- nothing more than child's play.

Yet, seeing this audacious janitor ignited an unexpected thrill within him.

Zane's voice cracked slightly as he cautioned, “Jax, are you sure about this? He's... strange. Think you can handle him?"

Jaxon exhaled slowly, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. "I can't guarantee victory

-but I sure as hell won't back down."

"Perfect,” Zane sneered venomously, eager malice glittering in his eyes.

"Shut him down quick, Jax. End this clown's little act."

"Anyone from Chicago brave enough to face me?" Alex taunted again, his voice

dripping with contempt as he scanned the anxious faces around the arena.

"I'm here!" Jaxon shouted boldly. He launched himself skyward, flipping gracefully through the air, tapping lightly off a spectator's shoulder

mid-flight, soaring effortlessly like an

acrobat.

The women in the crowd erupted in thrilled admiration, their eyes wide with awe

and longing.

"Did you see that? He's incredible!"

"Oh my god, a hero in white! Absolutely dreamy!"

Jaxon landed perfectly, exuding charm and confidence, every inch a chivalrous

knight—until his feet touched the arena floor.

Instantly, a suffocating pressure crushed his chest, gripping his heart with

merciless strength.

His eyes snapped to Alex, widening with shock and sudden, overwhelming terror.

It was a primal fear unlike anything

he'd ever known-raw, paralyzing like a drenched rat frozen under the

glare of a towering lion, stripped of all dignity and hope.

His knees buckled without warning, forcing him down into a humiliating kneel.

Alex observed him coldly, nodding with faint amusement. "Impressive. At least you

didn't collapse outright beneath my aura."

Jaxon's voice trembled, dread twisting through every syllable.

"Aura?" The color drained from his face, leaving him ghostly pale. Aura—the

legendary internal power wielded only by true masters.

This wasn't a fight.

It was an execution and he was the victim.