An Understated Dominance Novel (Dahlia & Dustin) by Marina Vittori updated 2025-26 - An Understated Dominance Chapter 2668

Chapter 2668

The canyon’s atmosphere was suffocating, weighed down by an oppressive gloom.

The dark-red armored humanoid beast struck like death itself—every blow sharp, unrelenting, and charged with a corrosive energy that gnawed at everything it touched.

Logan pushed his body to the limit, his sword flashing like a dragon weaving through the storm of spear shadows. He blocked, countered, and searched relentlessly for an opening.

This isn’t working, he thought grimly.

In its third form, the beast’s strength and speed had surged far beyond what it had shown before. Its combat skills were nearly flawless, and its energy seemed bottomless.

If he stayed on defense, he would eventually be crushed. Victory could only come with one decisive strike.

So Logan baited it. He left a deliberate flaw, pausing ever so slightly as he dodged a vicious side thrust.

The beast’s crimson eyes flared like twin flames. It lunged, seizing the chance, its spear darting out like a venomous dragon, the speed spiking as it drove straight for Logan’s waist.

But as the tip closed in, a cold gleam lit up Logan’s eyes.

Now!

Instead of dodging, he poured every ounce of strength into his left palm. A dark blue light erupted, etched with faint Tai Chi patterns, as he thrust it into the path of the spear.

“Mystical Guiye Palm!”

“Buzz!”

The clash didn’t ring with steel-on-steel, but with a deep, resonant hum—as if raw energy itself was being absorbed and unraveled.

Logan’s palm wasn’t meant to destroy; it was meant to entangle. The spear’s violent dark energy faltered for just an instant.

For someone like Logan, an instant was enough.

His sword arm moved.

This time, his strike wasn’t fast. It was deliberate—so slow it seemed to draw in the very energy of the canyon.

The blade shimmered with green light, runes flickering across it before vanishing. A vast sword intent surged upward, ancient and boundless, sweeping away the darkness and stillness that smothered the canyon.

“One sword separates the worlds.”

His low voice cut through the silence, and as the final word fell, his blade thrust forward.

It didn’t feel like a sword aimed at flesh. It felt as if it pierced space, time, even cause and effect.

The beast shuddered at the threat. It tried to yank its spear back, but Logan’s palm held it fast.

A metallic, inhuman shriek ripped out as its armor flared blood-red, flames under its helmet whipping wildly as it scrambled to throw up its strongest defense.

But against that sword, it was meaningless.

The blade slipped through its defenses and pierced its chestplate.

There was no explosion, no spray of gore.

Time simply…stopped.

Then, from the sword’s tip, countless green cracks spread like spiderwebs, racing across the beast’s armor and body.

What had seemed indestructible began to collapse. The spear dissolved into smoke. Its arms, torso, head—everything disintegrated, crumbling into drifting dust and red motes of light. Even the flames in its eyes winked out.

The crushing pressure vanished instantly.

Logan stood alone, sword in hand, his breath coming hard.

The canyon fell silent.

“We won!” someone gasped from the sidelines.

Grace exhaled shakily, her nerves finally easing.

But the relief didn’t last.

The scattered red dust and light motes didn’t fade like ordinary energy. Instead, they began to pull together—slowly at first, then faster—swirling into a dark vortex where the beast had fallen.

In its depths, shadows thickened. Armor fragments and glowing veins of energy faintly took shape.

“What…what’s happening?!” one guard stammered, his smile freezing into horror.

“It’s not dead? That’s its…third form?!” another voice trembled.

Grace’s face went pale, her heart lurching back into her throat.

Logan’s eyes narrowed, sharp as blades, fixed on the vortex. He could feel it—hatred, stubborn and unyielding, rising out of the scattered fragments.

“It won’t be that easy,” he muttered.

Without hesitation, he flicked his wrist. A thread of sword-light shot forward, slicing into the forming core.

“Slash!”

The energy burst apart, scattering once more.

But to his shock, the fragments began gathering again almost immediately—faster this time. The dark core remained, pulsing like an immortal brand.

Logan’s gaze hardened. He struck again, unleashing a net of green sword-light that shredded the fragments into dust finer than the eye could follow.

Still, within mere breaths, they re-formed, drawn together as rivers to the sea. The vortex pulsed back to life—smaller, dimmer, but just as defiant.

Once. Twice. Again and again Logan destroyed it—blade and spirit striking at its very will. Yet each time, it revived, its essence refusing to die.

The beast seemed to embody immortality itself. As long as even the faintest trace of its energy remained, it would rebuild.

Logan stood, sword in hand, his brow furrowed deeper with every failed attempt. For the first time, his eyes showed not victory, but sharp, pensive focus.

This wasn’t just resilience. This was something else. A hidden secret of Fairyharbor Island—or perhaps a power tied to the very rules of existence.