Read The Almighty Dominance Novel (Alexander Leonhart and Sophia Lancaster) by Sunshine Updated 2025 -26 - The Almighty Dominance Chapter 500

The Almighty Dominance Chapter 500

Sofina squeezed her eyes shut—

but the slap never came.

Alex’s hand shot out like lightning, catching Ragnar’s wrist mid-air.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” Alex said, his voice cold enough to freeze stone. “You want to finish this in the race or right here in a fight? I’m open to both. And if we fight… I’m taking this hand of yours.”

“Don’t you dare touch me, you half-slave!” Ragnar roared, jerking his arm uselessly.

Alex tightened his grip. “I’d rather not lay hands on a man carrying five sexually transmitted diseases.”

Bone ground against bone. Ragnar’s scream tore through the air—high, sharp, almost like a woman shrieking.

Alex could’ve crushed the entire arm without breaking a sweat.

But Sofina rushed in. “Alex—don’t hurt him!”

At her voice, Alex released Ragnar immediately.

Ragnar stumbled back, face drained of color, humiliation burning him alive from the inside.

“You’ll pay for this! I’ll take your arms and your wife! Just wait!”

He spun and stormed toward his car.

Sofina turned to Alex, breath shaky, adrenaline trembling through her.
“Fine. That jerk has gone too far. You have to destroy him.”

Alex’s eyes glinted. “That’s the plan.”

Her resolve snapped into steel.

“I believe in you. I’ll bet every coin I have on you. I’ll call Countess Marlena… though I’m not sure she’ll even open the betting.”

“Just call,” Alex said with a wink.

Minutes later, Sofina returned, stunned.

“Countess Marlena agreed.”

And right then, across the floating stadium’s massive screen, the betting counter blinked on—numbers glowing bright as the crowd exploded in excitement.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer boomed, “the Eden Group—your official betting house—proudly announces a sudden special exhibition match!”

“A friendly showdown between a VÖXEN Series 6 and a VÖXEN Series 1… or whatever that thing is. And yes—betting is officially open.”

Then his voice darkened, sharp and dramatic.

“And this isn’t a lighthearted race. The drivers have wagered their arms and their hearts. This is winner-takes-all. The loser… may face misery. Even death!”

The stadium went feral.

Tens of thousands roared, slapping their wrist-bracelets to open the betting interface. They’d all come for the Mobile Suit Tournament—big corporate crowds, high stakes—and now they were thrilled to gamble on anything with wheels.

Everyone’s gaze snapped to Alex’s car—the old VÖXEN First Series. Laughter echoed across the seats.

“Is this guy insane? Racing Ragnar’s Gen-6 with that antique?”

“This is a joke! That Gen-1 can’t compete. What’s he thinking?”

Winchester Stadium was massive—an oval track designed for high-speed mobile units. Once a car synced with the magnetic line, the system mapped the fastest route possible.

After that, it was all raw engine power.

Even the dumbest man in Winchester knew that.

“So why the hell is Alex—driving a Gen-1—agreeing to race a Gen-6?” one spectator demanded.

His friend snorted. “Simple. Alex is the walking Error. Only a certified idiot would race a Gen-6 with a Gen-1.”

The crowd agreed.

Bets poured in for Ragnar.
The Gen-6 percentage skyrocketed.

Ragnar lifted both arms triumphantly.

“Alright! Watch closely! The race starts now!”

He climbed into his VÖXEN Gen-6, its engine rumbling like a beast starving for the kill.

Alex slid into his own car and eased up beside him, aligning the bumpers.

A massive digital screen lit up—

COUNTDOWN: 5

Below it:
Start when the number hits zero.

Ragnar rolled down his window and shouted,
“You bastard! I’m taking your arms! Kneel now, and maybe I’ll show mercy!”

“How about you kneel first?” Alex shot back, a cold smile pulling at his lips as he switched his VÖXEN into—

Seraphine Mode. Spaceship configuration.

Most people couldn’t even start a car in that mode—its speed was monstrous. Gravity pressure could spike to ten Gs, enough to snap bones and crush a heart.

One wrong move, and everything turned to dust.

But Alex?

Alex’s mind synced with the machine perfectly—instinct, precision, control. Handling this monster was as natural to him as breathing.

The countdown dropped—

3… 2… 1… 0.

Ragnar’s Gen-6 blasted forward instantly, launching like a bullet.

And then—

Alex’s so-called “weak Gen-1” jolted backward instead of forward.

The entire stadium gasped, thousands shooting to their feet.

Alex’s car rolled backward twenty full meters—
stopped—
then began inching forward, slow and gentle, like someone out for a Sunday drive.

Meanwhile, Ragnar’s Gen-6 rocketed past 200 km/h in seconds.

Alex’s car?

Barely 20, maybe 30 km/h.

The crowd erupted.

“ARE YOU INSANE?” one spectator roared. “I bet money on your courage!”

“Idiot! You bet on Winchester’s dunce!”

“Yeah! If he’s giving away money, he might as well keep driving backward!”

Inside the cockpit, Alex scratched his head—annoyed but helpless.

He was pushing spaceship mode—its fastest configuration—but the car refused to accelerate.

It was still mapping the entire track, analyzing every curve, airflow shift, and micro-wind current.

The system needed perfect data before committing to full-speed trajectory.

So it continued crawling, scanning everything with surgical precision.

By the time Alex finished one lap, Ragnar had already completed five.

People had given up on Alex.

Some were already celebrating their winnings.
Others shook their heads in pity.

Then it happened.

A crisp voice echoed through the cockpit:

“Mapping complete. Initiating first acceleration phase. Beginning at 200 km/h and escalating toward 2,000 km/h. Driver, prepare for ignition.”

A deep hum rolled across the stadium—heavy, metallic, alive.

And then the impossible unfolded.

Something on the back of the VÖXEN First Series opened, splitting apart like the wings of a machine-beast awakening. A burning yellow glow surged from within—shifting to a fierce electric bite—then to a blinding, colorless heat so intense the air warped.

Wind blasted across the arena.

Spectators shielded their faces.

The stadium vibrated.

Alex’s VÖXEN Seraphine locked into position, frame tightening like it was bracing for war—

and then the engine detonated into a roar, a violent metallic scream that shut the entire stadium into breathless silence.

Alex’s lips curled into a razor-sharp grin.

“The real race,” he said, eyes narrowing,

“starts now.”