The Almighty Dominance

Van Damme stormed across the hall, his battered frame wrapped in blood- streaked cloth, boots striking the floor like hammer blows.

He stopped dead, eyes burning like black fire, locking onto the tense faces of Vancouver's rank two, three, and four.

"One of you bastards slipped poison in my veins," he said, voice low and lethal.

Immediately, one of his men leaped to his feet, eyes blazing with anger and fear.

"You've got a lot of nerve! We're poisoned too, Van! Don't you dare point that finger at us!"

Van's lips curled into a bitter smile.

"Funny you mention nerve. A snake from Chicago slithered up to me a few days ago, offering me cash to poison the whole damn lot of you."

"Offered me a measly payout to betray my people. Even though Vancouver's running lean, I still got pride-I told that bastard to go to hell."

A stunned silence rippled through the room, eyes widening with suspicion and fear.

Jasmine surged to her feet, her voice urgent, almost desperate.

"I promised each of you ten million dollars for victory! Isn't that enough? Isn't loyalty worth anything to you?"

Van chuckled harshly, eyes narrowing sharply.

"Ten million? You call that real money?" he sneered.

"Chicago's offering way more. If they win, they take your stocks-worth half a

billion. You know what they waved in front of my face?"

"A hundred million. Cash. No strings."

Gasps exploded around the room, followed by frantic whispers. Greed and doubt clawed visibly at the faces around the table.

Suddenly, Van drew his sword, its blade gleaming ominously in the low light.

Without hesitation, he plunged it deep into Rank Four's chest, the impact sickeningly clear.

"What the hell are you doing?" someone roared, rising in shock and panic.

"I'm taking care of business," Van snarled, pressing the blade deeper, blood trickling from Rank Four's mouth.

Rank Four gasped, voice cracking in panic. "It wasn't me!"

Van stepped in, face inches away, his tone like a blade dipped in ice.

"The others stared with hunger, jealous they didn't get the same offer. But you... you looked away. Sweat rolling down your face when I locked eyes with you."

"Your eyes screamed regret-regret you didn't ask for more. Let me guess... they gave you twenty million? Pathetic. You sold out for scraps while they dangled five times that in front of me."

"You're wrong," Rank Four rasped weakly.

"Am I?" Van's eyes glowed fiercely.

"Maybe we check your bank records-or your family's. Better yet, if someone goes to your house right now, will they find your bags packed, a Chicago citizen's card tucked in your coat?"

Rank Four's eyes widened in horror, words dying in his throat. "How... how did you know..."

Van twisted the sword slightly, his voice barely a whisper. "I didn't—until just now."

With ruthless finality, Van pushed the blade straight through Rank Four's heart, a grim smile on his lips.

"No mercy for traitors. Enjoy your payoff in hell."

Rank Four's eyes glazed over, disbelief etched permanently into his lifeless face.

His dreams of wealth and freedom, a new life with his mistress, vanished in one swift, brutal instant.

Immediately, security guards surged forward, grabbing Van's arms.

Jasmine stepped closer, eyes blazing fiercely. "If you killed an innocent man, there's no mercy for you either."

Van met her gaze steadily, defiance blazing in his eyes. "He wasn't innocent. This snake touched me this morning-no one else had the chance."

The room held its breath as the guards frantically searched Rank Four's corpse.

Seconds felt like eternity until a guard shouted triumphantly, holding up a vial of poison and a bottle labeled "Antidote."

A heavy, stunned silence returned as Van shook off the guards' hands roughly, standing tall with grim satisfaction.

Jasmine stared at Van, a mix of admiration and chilling uncertainty.

"Justice doesn't play favorites," Van murmured darkly, wiping blood from his blade. "And neither do I."

Charles grinned coldly, relishing the sight of the fourth-ranked fighter's corpse sprawled on the floor.

He vividly recalled approaching Van Damme, dangling twenty million dollars to sabotage Vancouver.

The arrogant fool demanded five times that amount, an absurd sum even for Charles, who instead chose to tempt the lesser-ranked fighters, starting with the fifth.

But that idiot refused.

Rank four, however, eagerly grabbed the bait, and at a fraction of the cost.

Twenty million dollars for Vancouver's defeat was a bargain by anyone's measure.

Now their ranks lay shattered, victory assured for Chicago.

The referee's voice echoed clearly, slicing through the stunned silence. "Kingston team, two minutes left! If no challenger steps up, this round-and every round after-will be forfeited!"

Jasmine's face drained of color, eyes wide with panic and helplessness.

Despair hung over the Kingston team like a thundercloud.

Suddenly, Kelly yanked off her

expensive business jacket and

handed it swiftly to Alex, steppi

onto the arena floor in her crisp white shirt and tailored slacks.

She gathered her flowing hair into a tight ponytail and moved toward the referee

with unshakable confidence.

"I'll represent Kingston," she declared boldly, her voice calm and deadly serious.

Conan the Barbarian exploded into

harsh laughter, his voice echoing dike thunder. "They send a woman to

fight me? Are you joking? My club will crush you to powder!"

"You're welcome to try," Kelly answered coolly, fixing him with an icy stare. "But I doubt you'll get very far."

The referee hesitated briefly, skeptical, before raising a hand. "The match begins now!"

Conan arrogantly set his massive club aside, sneering mockingly at Kelly.

"Tell you what, pretty lady—I'll even let you land a free shot. Hate for you to die without at least grazing me."

Kelly smirked coldly, strolling forward casually.

With a calm breath, she clenched her fist and swung sharply, knuckles driving like

a piston straight into Conan's smug jaw.

The barbarian's arrogant expression vanished instantly, replaced by sheer astonishment as the strike landed like a freight train.

He spiraled violently through the air, crashing hard into the arena floor, motionless and utterly defeated.

Silence descended over the arena, broken only by the faint echo of Conan's heavy fall.

The spectators stared in stunned disbelief, struggling to grasp how Kelly's slender

form could fell a giant nearly three times her size.

The referee quickly regained his composure, shouting, "Victory goes to Kingston!"

A roar erupted, deafening cheers shaking the stands.

"Vancouver! Vancouver! Vancouver!"

But celebration was short-lived. Zane approached the referee, murmuringnoveldrama

forcefully.

With a grim nod, the referee reluctantly raised a hand once more. "The fight result

is overturned. Due to disqualification, Chicago Lords take this round!"

Kelly snapped her gaze to Zane, her eyes blazing with fury.

He met her stare defiantly, lips curled in a bitter sneer. His eyes clearly conveyed

his message:

"You shouldn't have stepped into a fight that wasn't yours."