An Understated Dominance Novel (Dahlia & Dustin) by Marina Vittori updated 2025-26 - An Understated Dominance Chapter 2626

Chapter 2626

Five days passed in the blink of an eye.

The plague that had ravaged the southern frontier was finally under control, though the situation varied dramatically from city to city.

Pucheng—the epicenter of the outbreak—ended up being the least affected, thanks to early containment and swift resettlement efforts.

Wugang City, located near Pucheng, also managed to eradicate the mutant plague after a hard-fought battle, largely due to Grace’s intervention. Though the city paid a heavy price, it ultimately survived the crisis.

But Linche and Liyanche… their survival came at a horrifying cost.

Though they, too, wiped out the plague, the price was thousands of lives—innocent civilians burned alive, their corpses piled high like mountains of ash.

Matthias and Nathaniel tried to bury the truth under the guise of emergency containment, claiming it was the only way to stop the infection from spreading.

But the truth got out.

Rumors spread quickly through the empire and within the halls of government. Debates erupted.

Some condemned Matthias and Nathaniel as butchers, monsters who sacrificed the people for power. Others defended them, insisting that in times of catastrophe, hard decisions must be made.

Meanwhile, Grace returned to Oakvale with her team—and quietly submitted a sealed report to the government, detailing everything the three princes had done.

At that very moment, in the Forbidden City—

The imperial study was thick with the scent of ambergris and bitter medicine. The air clung to the skin like damp smoke.

Valon Linsor, draped in a dragon robe, reclined on a soft couch lined with white fox fur. His wrist, skeletal and bruised, rested on a golden silk pillow. His fingertips were tinged an ominous bluish-gray.

When Damien entered, holding a secret letter still sealed with cracked wax, Valon was in the middle of a violent coughing fit. The blood he spat into a brocade handkerchief bloomed dark red—like the sumac blossoms once tributed from the southern frontier.

“Read it,” Valon rasped. His voice was rough as sandpaper, each syllable scraping painfully from his chest.

Damien had barely uttered the words, “Eight thousand civilians reduced to scorched earth…” when Valon suddenly sat up, his knuckles digging into the carved edges of the couch.

The letter slipped from Damien’s hands, the parchment unfolding across his lap—its words like flames dancing off the page.

“Treason!”

Valon roared like a wounded beast. Blood surged up his throat and splattered across the bright yellow dragon robe, blooming like a red plum flower in winter.

“Your Majesty!” Damien dropped to his knees, grabbing Valon’s twitching shoulders, voice cracking with panic. “Summon the imperial physician! Now!”

By the time the doctors burst in with their medicine chests, Valon was barely conscious.

Silver needles pierced his thin flesh. He forced his eyes open, blinking against the haze. Candlelight shimmered in his cloudy pupils like a reflection on rippling water.

After checking Valon’s pulse, Chief Imperial Physician Kameron pulled Damien aside and spoke in a hushed tone. “The Dragon Throne is at its end. His pulse is like a candle flickering in the wind. I’m afraid…”

“How long does he have?” Damien’s grip tightened on Kameron’s sleeve, knuckles white.

Kameron swallowed, fingers absently tracing the copper clasp of his medicine box. “A month at best. No more than three.”

At that moment, the clepsydra in the study gave a soft click.

Valon stirred and turned his gaze toward the Big Dipper lamp swaying gently from the ceiling beam.

“Kameron,” he said, voice calm despite his condition, “I know my body. The Dragonmarsh can’t go a day without a ruler. If you have any method—any forbidden art—I will accept it, no matter how unholy.”

Kameron fell to his knees, forehead pressed to the cold gold brick. “Your Majesty… There’s a legend. An elixir of immortality, hidden on Fairyharbor Island in the East Dragonmarsh Sea. It’s said that an ancient king once traveled there with eight horses. He didn’t find eternal life—but he lived another thirty years.”

“Fairyharbor…” Valon’s eyes sparked briefly with hope before dimming. “The sea is vast. The island is shrouded in demonic energy. Who could survive such a journey, let alone bring back the medicine?”

Damien stepped forward. “Your sons are in their prime. And Princess Grace is wise, capable, and fearless. What if—”

“They?” Valon scoffed, then erupted into another brutal cough. “Matthias is reckless. Nathaniel, conniving. Tristan’s a coward. And Grace… she’s just a woman…”

He couldn’t finish. The coughing overtook him again.

Damien rushed to his side, supporting him until the spasms subsided.

Valon finally exhaled and muttered, “Forget it. We have no choice. This mission to Fairyharbor will be a test. Issue orders immediately—Matthias, Nathaniel, and Tristan are to prepare for the voyage to the East Dragonmarsh Sea in search of the elixir. Tell them this—whoever retrieves the medicine will become the next crown prince.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Damien bowed and turned to go—but Valon stopped him.

“Wait… summon Grace as well. I don’t trust those three bastards to do it alone.”

“…Yes, Your Majesty.”

Damien was visibly shaken, though he remained composed.

The emperor had made his decree: whoever returned with the elixir would inherit the throne. But this time, the contest wasn’t just among the princes—Grace was in the running, too.

Across the empire, every faction felt the shift.

Something was coming.

And when it hit, Oakvale would never be the same.