An Understated Dominance Novel (Dahlia & Dustin) by Marina Vittori updated 2025-26 - An Understated Dominance Chapter 2685

Chapter 2685

Logan stepped toward the altar, unbothered by the waves of resentment swirling around it. He crouched down, picked up the bronze waist plate, and ran his fingertips over the twisted symbol carved into its surface. His eyes were cold and sharp.

“More than one group,” he murmured. “Judging by the age of the bloodstains and the decomposition of the remains, at least three separate factions have conducted blood sacrifices here—spanning several decades.”

He walked to a nearby corpse, one that was relatively intact. Examining its bones, he noticed something unnatural—the sternum glowed faintly with a dark golden hue, its surface riddled with hairline cracks.

“This man was powerful,” Logan said quietly. “At least Grandmaster level when alive. But his death… wasn’t natural. His blood, essence, and soul were forcibly drained. Even the spiritual imprint within his bones has been stripped away.”

Grace frowned, her thoughts flashing back to Cassius’s earlier warning—that the Ruin Dragon’s seal had been decaying, leaking its power over time.

“Was this blood sacrifice meant to communicate with the Ruin Dragon?” she asked, her voice tight. “Or to weaken the seal?”

“It’s possible,” Logan replied, rising slowly. His gaze swept across the altar until it settled on the stone trough at its center—a shallow depression, smooth and dark, as though worn down by countless offerings.

The inner wall of the trough still reeked of blood. Beneath the scent lingered a faint, eerie vibration—something ancient and sacrilegious.

“This ritual wasn’t just about breaking the seal,” Logan said gravely. “It was feeding the Ruin Dragon—nourishing it with the essence, resentment, and souls of the living.”

A chill rippled through the group.

So the danger threatening Fairyharbor Island wasn’t merely the result of time and decay—it was intentional. Someone had been accelerating the ruin.

Grace’s face paled. “But who would do this? And why?”

Whoever found this island, constructed this altar, and performed such depraved rites had to be powerful—and deliberate.

Logan’s tone was low, analytical. “Their motives aren’t clear. But someone’s trying to draw strength from the Ruin Dragon’s power. That would explain the surge in violent beasts and the seal’s instability. These blood sacrifices… they’re like hammers striking a dam already cracked and ready to burst.”

His eyes turned toward the heart of the lake. “We’ll need to move faster. Finding the Yaochi Water isn’t enough—we need to uncover who’s behind all this. The ‘divergent views’ Cassius mentioned might be tied to these blood rites.”

As Logan spoke, Old Jhangi—who had been silently surveying the surroundings—lifted his damaged arm and pointed toward a massive rock formation behind the altar. His voice was hoarse. “There… on that reef. There’s writing.”

Everyone turned. Carved roughly into the stone’s surface were jagged, blood-red words—scrawled as if by a dying hand:

“With blood as my guide and soul as my sacrifice, I implore the Dragon Lord to grant me great power… The Black Evil is immortal…”

The inscription ended abruptly, the final strokes jagged and uneven, as though the writer had been interrupted—or killed mid-sentence.

“Black Evil?” Grace muttered, exchanging a confused glance with Alongi. Neither had heard the name before.

Logan’s eyes darkened as he studied both the inscription and the strange symbol on the bronze plate. He committed every detail to memory. Whatever this Black Evil was, it was deeply entwined with the altar—and the unseen forces manipulating the Ruin Dragon from the shadows.

The discovery cast a heavy gloom over the group. The air felt colder, thicker, and the silence heavier than before.

Logan finally turned away. “Let’s move. We need to find the stone path.”

He pushed his thoughts aside and led the way out of that cursed hollow, the others following in tense silence. Each step away from the altar felt like wading out of a nightmare—but the unease didn’t fade.

After nearly a mile along the corrupted lakeshore, they finally found it—a narrow, faintly glowing path half-hidden behind a patch of foul-smelling aquatic plants.

The stones were pale jade, glimmering faintly beneath the dark red water. It stretched like a fragile thread through the lake—an almost unreal bridge toward the unknown.

When Logan stepped onto it, he felt a subtle current beneath his feet—a pulse of spiritual energy, ancient and deliberate. It was this power that kept the Weak Water’s corrosive pull at bay.

But the path was treacherously thin, barely wide enough for one person. The slightest misstep would send them plunging into the blood-tainted waters on either side, where the lake’s surface churned like the maw of a waiting beast.

Grace followed close behind Logan, her focus absolute. Yet her thoughts churned beneath her calm exterior.

The altar’s discovery weighed heavily on her heart. There weren’t just natural dangers here—something intelligent, malicious, and hidden was orchestrating chaos. And with each step forward, her hope of finding her father felt more fragile, more desperate.

Behind her, Alongi and the two guards moved with painstaking care, balancing themselves while scanning the waters for any sign of movement.

Stevie walked in the middle, supporting Old Jhangi. The old man’s breathing had grown labored, his face ashen from the oppressive aura pressing in from all sides.

The group moved slowly, step by step, swallowed by silence.

Then—when they reached the middle of the jade trail, with no end visible before or behind—something changed.

The air trembled.

The lake around them rippled, not from wind or motion, but from something alive.

The faint hum beneath their feet faltered.

And in that instant, every instinct screamed—
something was rising from the depths.