An Understated Dominance - Chapter 2505

Chapter 2505

“You had your chance. Don’t blame me for what happens next,” Dustin said.

With a slight squeeze of his fingers, the steel blades trapped between them shattered with a sharp clang.

Before the two Hall of Gods members could react, Dustin flicked his hand.

The two men were sent flying as if struck by a truck, hurtling over thirty feet through the air. Blood sprayed from their mouths and noses before they crashed to the ground, critically injured and on the brink of death.

Dustin slowly turned his head, locking eyes with the man who had just attempted to ambush him.

The man glanced at the broken sword in his hand, then at Dustin—who stood utterly unscathed. He hesitated for a fraction of a second—then bolted.

With a powerful leap, he dove straight for the sea. He knew Dustin’s strength was on an entirely different level. Outrunning him on land was impossible; his only chance was to vanish into the water.

It might have worked—if not for what happened next.

Just before he reached the surface, an invisible force locked him in place. His arms and legs could still move, but no matter how hard he struggled, he couldn’t advance another inch. It was as if some unseen hand had seized him in an iron grip. Then, to his horror, he began rising—farther and farther from the sea.

“Did you really think you could escape?” Dustin asked, making a grasping motion.

Despite being over thirty feet away, he yanked the man back with a mere gesture. As Dustin tightened his grip, the man’s body twisted unnaturally. Bones cracked, organs shifted, and blood gushed from his mouth and nose.

“P-Please! Don’t kill me! I surrender!” The man, moments from being crushed, panicked and pleaded desperately.

“It’s too late for that.”

Dustin clenched his fist.

With a sickening squelch, the man’s body exploded like a watermelon struck by a cannonball. Chunks of flesh and blood rained into the sea, dyeing the waters a deep crimson.

“Huh?” Mulder’s eye twitched, his expression darkening. He hadn’t expected Dustin to be this powerful—wiping out all his subordinates in a single exchange.

If he had to guess, Dustin was undoubtedly a grandmaster martial artist.

But that didn’t add up. Mulder had intel on every fighter in West Lucozia. He had already uncovered the backgrounds of most enforcement team members and Draken Guardians.

Yet, there wasn’t a single mention of the man standing before him.

Since when did West Lucozia have a young grandmaster like this?
“Who the hell are you, punk? Got the guts to say your name?” Mulder tightened his grip on his dagger, lowering his stance while staying on guard.

He had only broken through to the grandmaster level last year—and only because he had taken the Hall of Gods’ enhanced serum. Until now, he had never faced another grandmaster in combat. He had no idea how he would measure up.

What truly unsettled him, though, was Dustin’s abilities. Dustin could effortlessly take down martial artists who had achieved divinity, as if they were nothing. It was terrifying.

“You must be Mulder, right?” Dustin brushed the dust off his clothes and spoke indifferently. “Someone asked me not to kill you right away. He wants to do it himself. Of course, if you resist, I don’t mind crippling you first.”

“Arrogant bastard!” Mulder scowled and barked, “So what if you’re a grandmaster? That doesn’t mean you can beat me. And besides—I’m not alone.”

As he spoke, he turned to the man behind him and said gravely, “Sir Prescott, this brat is tough—not easy to deal with. If we work together, we can take him down and end this.”

Warrick didn’t respond. His eyes remained locked on Dustin, his frown deepening as his expression grew more solemn.

The more he stared, the more familiar Dustin seemed. He was certain he had seen him somewhere before, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t quite place it.

“Sir Prescott! Sir Prescott!” Seeing no response, Mulder raised his voice.

“Enough with the shouting.” Warrick’s expression darkened. “Do I really need to step in for something this trivial? Just handle it yourself. I’ll cover you.”

“Huh?” Mulder was stunned.

At a time like this, why the hell was Warrick still worried about his status and martial codes? The cleanest solution was simple—kill Dustin, get on the boat, and leave. No loose ends.

Leaving Mulder to fight alone—wasn’t that just dragging things out for no reason? And what if West Lucozia’s main forces arrived? By then, escaping wouldn’t even be an option.

“What’s wrong? Are you actually afraid of a punk like him?” Warrick asked coldly.

“Of course not. It’s just that taking him down won’t be easy. What if—”

Before Mulder could finish, Warrick cut him off sharply. “I told you to handle it. Stop wasting time with excuses.”

Mulder frowned, his expression turning sour. He had gone through hell to help Warrick escape. But now, when it mattered most, Warrick planned to sit back and watch the fight unfold without lifting a finger.

The thought disgusted him.

“Come on, Mulder, you still don’t see it?” Dustin sneered. “He’s just scared of dying, so he’s letting you fight first to test my strength. If you win, he’ll step in. Otherwise, he’ll ditch you and run. Let’s be real—you’re just his sacrificial pawn.”