An Understated Dominance Novel (Dahlia & Dustin) by Marina Vittori updated 2025-26 - An Understated Dominance Chapter 2677

Chapter 2677 

As the Mirage’s final trace of energy vanished into the cliffs, the valley fell completely silent. The oppressive aura that had gripped their hearts slowly dissipated.

One by one, the survivors opened their eyes, their hands trembling as they lowered them from their ears.

The world before them had returned to its true form—bleak, colorless, and utterly still. The vivid illusions that had felt so real moments ago were gone, leaving only desolation.

Several guards collapsed to the ground, pale and gasping. Fear lingered in their eyes as if they had just clawed their way out of a nightmare.

Grace stepped toward Logan, worry etched across her face. “Logan, are you alright?”

He shook his head slightly, his expression calm but weary. “I’m fine. Mirage’s energy is depleted, and her body is wounded. She won’t be coming back anytime soon.”

Stevie pressed a trembling hand to her chest. “That was terrifying… There was no way to fight it. If Mr. Rhys hadn’t found her core, we’d all be dead.”

Logan nodded, his gaze sweeping over the team. “Remember this. On Fairyharbor Island, the most beautiful places often hide the deadliest traps. Never trust what looks serene.”

Everyone nodded, chastened. After the ordeal in the “Mirror Flower Water Moon” valley, their reverence—and fear—for this island had deepened beyond words.

After a brief rest, the group gathered themselves and pressed on.

Yet, as they moved forward, the air still felt heavy—haunted by the echo of Mirage’s illusions. Even in silence, it was as though her presence lingered, unseen but watching.

Fatigue weighed on every step. Those wounded in both body and mind needed help to move, and the entire group slowed to a crawl.

As they advanced, the valley walls grew steeper, their color darkening to a deep crimson, like rock scorched by fire—or stained by ancient blood.

A harsh, sulfuric odor filled the air, growing thicker and sharper with each breath.

“Miss… this smell—it’s making me dizzy,” Stevie murmured, covering her nose.

Grace’s stomach churned. She circulated her inner energy to block the stench, only to realize with alarm that her energy was draining faster than before.

“Everyone, be careful,” she warned. “The air is poisonous. Hold your breath as much as possible and use your internal energy to resist.”

But their reserves were already running dangerously low.

After endless battles, toxic mists, and illusions that gnawed at their minds, even the strongest guards were nearing their limits.

Moments later, one of the wounded stumbled and fell. His skin turned blue, lips purple.

“Captain! Awu’s down!” a guard cried, panic rising in his voice.

The captain knelt to check, his face hardening. “The poison’s too deep. His energy’s gone. He’s… gone.”

Despair crept through the group like a slow-moving fog. They watched helplessly as another comrade’s life faded away, unable to save him, unable even to grieve properly.

How long had they been here? Days? Weeks?

They had already lost nearly half their men—and the legendary elixir they sought was still nowhere in sight.

“It’s all for that damned elixir,” someone muttered bitterly. “How many more have to die for it?”

The voice was low, but its venomous edge cut deep. It died away quickly, yet the words hung in the air, sinking into the hearts of those already burdened with fear and doubt.

Grace stiffened but didn’t turn around. She understood their resentment. They had followed her faithfully through every danger—but exhaustion and grief could break even the strongest will.

Still, she could not falter. Her father’s life hung in the balance. She swallowed the ache in her chest and kept moving.

Logan heard the murmurs too but said nothing. Words couldn’t untie the knots of despair.

He simply watched the path ahead, eyes sharp as a blade, his mind alert to every shift in the air.

A few miles later, the valley forked.

One path led deeper into the cliffs; the other veered into a narrow crevice. A faint current of air drifted out from the crack—cool, moist, and subtly fragrant, carrying a whisper of spiritual energy that stood in stark contrast to the island’s noxious aura.

“This way,” Logan said firmly, pointing toward the crack.

They followed his lead. The passage was narrow and slick with moss, forcing them to move single file, each step cautious and slow.

After walking for about half an incense stick’s time, the tunnel opened abruptly.

They stepped into a hidden grotto—quiet, untouched, and startlingly serene.

A small, crystal-clear pool lay before them. Its sandy bottom shimmered faintly, and a few silver fish darted lazily through the water. At the center, a spring bubbled softly, releasing ripples of cool air infused with gentle spiritual energy.

After the choking fumes outside, this place felt like paradise.

“Oh thank the heavens—water!” one of the parched guards exclaimed, rushing forward.

“Wait!” Logan’s sharp command stopped him in his tracks. “Something feels off. Don’t rush.”

He crouched by the pool, studying it closely. The water was cool, clear, almost alive with faint energy. He dipped his hand in and raised it slowly.

The water glistened between his fingers—pure, vital, and untainted.

“It’s safe,” he said after a moment, “but don’t drink too much. The energy here is clean but weak—it won’t restore what we’ve lost.”

Following his instructions, the guards took careful turns, drinking small sips and washing their wounds.

The effect was immediate. The fatigue that had weighed them down began to lift, replaced by a fragile sense of relief. The wounded looked better, their breathing steadier.

For the first time in days, hope flickered faintly among them.

But just as that fragile peace began to settle—

—the water in the pool rippled.

A faint vibration stirred beneath the surface, subtle yet unmistakable.

And once again, the calm they had found began to crumble.