An Understated Dominance Novel (Dahlia & Dustin) by Marina Vittori updated 2025-26 - An Understated Dominance Chapter 2625

Chapter 2625

Thick black smoke blanketed the sky over Linche.

Once-bustling streets now lay silent. The air reeked of burning flesh, blood, and decay—a stench so sharp it turned the stomach.

In the city’s southwest, flames still roared over a mass grave. The fire hissed and crackled, hungrily consuming what remained of the dead. Charred corpses twisted in unnatural shapes, and now and then, an unburned limb would roll out, its pale bones catching the light.

Matthias stood atop a slope, encased in protective gear, gazing down at the inferno below. His expression was unreadable.

There was no emotion on his sharp, angular face. He stared at the blazing pyre as if it were nothing more than a pile of dry grass being cleared—lifeless, meaningless.

The dark red bloodstains on his suit had long since dried, glinting strangely under the sunlight.

“Your Highness, we’ve found seventeen more infected in the western district. They’ve been brought here.” The deputy general dropped to one knee, voice unsteady.

Matthias gave a slight nod, his eyes still locked on the flames. His voice was calm—eerily so. “Throw them in.”

“Yes, sir.”

The deputy stood and signaled the soldiers behind him.

Seventeen ragged civilians were shoved forward. Some burned with fever, barely able to stand. Others stared blankly ahead, too far gone to resist.

As they neared the fire, the searing heat struck their faces. Panic flared in their eyes. Cries broke out as they tried to retreat—but the soldiers forced them forward, one by one, into the blaze.

Screams rang out—brief, piercing—then vanished under the roar of the flames.

“Your Highness, over 8,000 have been disposed of since we began the burnings,” the deputy reported again, sweat beading on his brow.

Matthias didn’t look back. His voice was low but firm: “Keep searching. Leave no infected alive.”

“Your Highness!” General Kyle stepped forward, his gaze locked on the blackened sky over the mass grave, his face strained with unease. “This isn’t a solution. If the royal court learns of this, the consequences could be catastrophic.”

A battle-hardened soldier, Kyle had seen war’s worst—but even he struggled to stomach the horror before him.

He knew the plague was merciless. But this? This was butchery.

Matthias finally turned, fixing Kyle with a cold stare. “Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures. If we hesitate now, the plague will sweep through Linche like wildfire. We won’t be talking about thousands dead—we’ll be counting in the tens or hundreds of thousands.”

He paused, his voice growing harder.

“As for my father—so long as the news is contained, who will ever know? Once the plague is over, all of this will be buried with it.”

Kyle opened his mouth to object, then met Matthias’s eyes—and fell silent.

He let out a long, heavy sigh and stepped aside.

He knew Matthias too well. Once he made up his mind, nothing would change it.

Words would be wasted.

The soldiers carried on, dragging more infected into the fire. The flames grew fiercer. Thick black smoke rose like a dark curse, smothering the skies over Linche.

Meanwhile, the city of Liyanche faced its own nightmare.

Nathaniel stood atop the city wall, overlooking the clearing below—now encircled by soldiers.

A massive pit had been dug into the ground. Piles of firewood lined its edges.

“Bring in the infected,” Nathaniel ordered, his tone devoid of compassion.

A group of civilians was herded in. Most were gaunt and feverish, their bodies mottled with bluish-black sores. Some coughed violently, flecks of blood staining their lips.

A few clutched children in their arms—tiny bodies burning with fever, breaths shallow, faces ghostly red.

“Please… let the child go. He’s just a boy!” A woman collapsed to her knees, her forehead slamming against the ground as she begged. Blood streamed down her face.

Nathaniel didn’t flinch. His voice was ice. “Throw them in.”

Soldiers tore the child from her arms. Mother and child were hurled into the pit together.

More followed—sick, fevered, terrified.

Cries of terror and pleas for mercy echoed from the pit.

“Set it ablaze,” Nathaniel commanded, this time with a flicker of emotion.

Torches were tossed in. Flames leapt up immediately, catching the dry wood. The fire spread like madness.

The screaming didn’t last long.

Soon, all that remained was the crackling of burning flesh and the thick stench of death.

The smoke that rose over Liyanche was even darker than Linche’s—heavier, fouler.

An elderly man broke through the crowd, desperate to save someone in the pit. A soldier struck him down in a single brutal blow. Blood pooled on the ground.

“Anyone who dares resist will be executed on the spot!” Nathaniel’s voice thundered, his eyes burning with fury.

Below the city wall, a boy—no older than eight—peered out from beneath a pile of firewood. His face was pale, eyes wide with terror and confusion.

He had watched his parents dragged into the fire.

He had survived only because he’d hidden in time.

The flames still roared.

All around, the people of Liyanche huddled in silence, paralyzed by fear. The city itself felt dead—a giant tomb shrouded in smoke and grief. Only the burning pit bore witness to the horror that had unfolded.