An Understated Dominance Novel (Dahlia & Dustin) by Marina Vittori updated 2025-26 - An Understated Dominance Chapter 2695

Chapter 2695

Aukon didn’t rush to strike. Instead, his calm stare said everything:

Logan was already dead in his eyes.

“Good. Good. Good.”

The effeminate man repeated the word three times, each one softer than the last—yet each laced with venom. His tone was gentle, charming even, but cold enough to freeze bone.

He set down his jade cup with graceful precision, rose, and smoothed the sleeves of his pink-purple robe like a performer preparing for center stage.

“To injure Aoki that badly—you truly do have skill. But it’s a shame you crossed paths with me… Dark Murky.”

The moment he spoke his name, the atmosphere shifted.

Moisture thickened in the air.
Spiritual liquid in the wine pool rippled without wind.
A thin sheen of water condensed on the glowing pearls in the walls.

Even the spiritual essence in the air felt drenched—thick, suffocating. It was as if Dark Murky had become the ruler of all water within this chamber.

Logan stood with his sword, breath ragged.
He had already burned through nearly every ounce of strength. The clash with Aoki’s pseudo-divine lightning had drained him almost dry.

Yet his gaze stayed sharp, locked on Dark Murky.
He could tell—this man was far more dangerous than Aoki. That calm surface hid a deep ocean of killing intent.

“Water Dragon’s Chant.”

Dark Murky lifted two fingers and flicked them lightly toward Logan.

The wine pool erupted.

A torrent of spiritual liquid mixed with vicious dragon-blood energy surged upward, instantly forming three massive dark-blue water dragons, each scaled, clawed, and alive with malice. Their roars shook the chamber as they lunged from three angles.

Before they even reached him, biting cold swept across the floor, frosting the ground white. Ice formed on Logan’s eyebrows and hair.

Logan forced true essence through his body and slashed—his sword erupting into dozens of cyan arcs, fanning out like a peacock’s tail.

Steel met water.
Sword light tore through dragon-flesh.
Heads burst. Bodies shredded.

But the severed water didn’t vanish—it re-formed instantly, coiling into fresh dragons.

Dark Murky’s lips curled. “Useless. Mystic Ice Prison.”

All three dragons opened their jaws and breathed out deep-blue frost. Space itself seemed to freeze. Razor-sharp ice spikes burst from the ground, sealing Logan inside an icy cage.

The temperature crashed.
This place became a frozen hell.

Logan pushed forward, sword light shattering ice and cleaving through freezing waves. But the cold dragged on him like chains, slowing his movements, eroding his protective sword aura.

And the water dragons never relented, circling, striking, drowning him in relentless pressure.

“Water Mirror Illusion.”

Dark Murky’s voice echoed as his figure blurred—then split into three identical versions of himself, each unleashing attacks.

Dragons crashed.
Ice spears rained.
Soul-piercing water waves surged at him.

Logan scanned with divine sense—but every copy carried the same aura, same power. No way to tell real from fake.

He relied on instinct alone, weaving through death, sword flashing, parrying wave after wave. Every clash shook his organs. His energy drained like water through a shattered cup.

If he hadn’t already stepped into the terrestrial immortal realm—able to draw in heaven and earth’s spiritual essence to barely replenish himself—he would’ve collapsed already.

Then—his eyes sharpened.

There.

A subtle flicker. A momentary disruption in one clone’s qi flow.

Logan didn’t hesitate. He ignored all incoming attacks, fused himself with his blade, and shot forward like concentrated lightning.

“—!”

The sword pierced “Dark Murky’s” chest cleanly.

But the figure only smiled before dissolving into water, splashing harmlessly to the floor.

A water clone.

The real Dark Murky stood behind him.

A dark-blue ice-crystal sword materialized in his hand—silent, deadly—and thrust toward Logan’s back in the perfect killing strike.

Logan moved as if he had eyes behind his skull. Before his momentum carried him forward, his torso twisted at an impossible angle, sword sweeping back in a precise counter.

Clang!

Steel met ice.

A wave of extreme cold surged along Logan’s blade and exploded into his arm. Frost crawled across his skin instantly, freezing muscle, tendon, meridian—bone-deep winter flooding his body in an instant.