An Understated Dominance - Chapter 2506

Chapter 2506

Dustin’s words made Mulder frown.

He knew all too well that Warrick was a man without loyalty or honor. If he could kill his own personal guards without hesitation, what would stop him from betraying a stranger? Mulder was certain that the moment things went south, Warrick would be the first to flee.

Given the choice, he would never willingly risk his life as Warrick’s sacrificial pawn. But now, there was no turning back.

With his undercover identity exposed and his role in Warrick’s escape revealed, Mulder had become a sworn enemy of West Lucozia. His name was now on their most-wanted list.

Tonight was their best chance to escape. If they missed it, finding another way out would be nearly impossible.

There was only one path left—kill whoever stood in his way and make it onto that escape boat.

“Enough talk, punk. Let’s see what you’re really made of,” Mulder said.

After weighing his options, he gritted his teeth and drew his longsword. His figure flickered like a phantom, leaving only a blur as he instantly closed the distance.

The sword in his hands gleamed coldly, flashing past like a shooting star. A sharp wind followed its arc, carrying enough force to cleave through the air as it aimed straight for Dustin’s throat.

But Dustin remained calm, unfazed.

Just as the sword was about to reach him, he shifted slightly, moving with effortless grace to narrowly avoid the fatal strike.

Simultaneously, his right fist clenched and drove forward with immense force, aiming straight for Mulder’s chest.

Mulder reacted instantly, swinging his sword across to block.

A sharp, metallic clang rang out as fist and steel collided, sending sparks flying.

The impact jolted Mulder’s arm, forcing him back several steps. He spun with the momentum, bringing his sword down in a powerful arc with a sharp whistle.

Dustin lightly tapped his foot against the ground and glided back three feet, slipping past the attack with ease.

Mulder’s sword aura streaked past him, missing by mere inches before striking a nearby boat.

A sharp crack echoed through the air. Within moments, the vessel split in two and began sinking into the water.

Mulder showed no hesitation after missing his target. His sword moved relentlessly—each slash fierce and unyielding.

The force behind every strike was enough to break through stone, and the blade’s sharp whistle cut through the air. Sparks flew as flashing steel carved deadly arcs, threatening to tear through anything in its path.

But Dustin remained composed.

His movements were fluid and effortless, weaving through Mulder’s attacks like a wisp of silk in the wind. He slipped past each strike with the slightest of margins.

His eyes were sharp and focused, reading Mulder’s every move. His steps seemed weightless, yet each one placed him just outside the reach of the deadly sword.

Mulder’s frustration mounted as his attacks continued to miss. His strikes grew more forceful, more reckless. His movements widened, turning aggressive as he focused entirely on offense.

Yet, despite his relentless assault, he failed to land a single hit.
Warrick, who had promised to back Mulder up, remained silent. His expression was unreadable as he watched the battle unfold, showing no intention of interfering.

“This punk… there’s something off about him,” Warrick murmured, secretly alarmed.

Dustin appeared to be in his early 20s, yet he was handling Mulder—a grandmaster martial artist—with ease, without even breaking a sweat.

What unsettled Warrick the most was his inability to gauge Dustin’s origins or true strength.

Mulder, who had been attacking with full force for a while, was now gasping for breath. He hadn’t realized it at first, but facing a true master was far more grueling than he had anticipated. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t even graze his opponent’s clothes.

“Why’d you stop? Keep going,” Dustin said.

Standing with his hands behind his back, he remained calm and composed, completely unaffected by the intensity of the fight. His relaxed stance was a stark contrast to Mulder’s, who was drenched in sweat and struggling for air.

Though Dustin could have ended the fight instantly, he had no intention of doing so—at least, not yet. He wasn’t just pressuring Warrick; he was also using Mulder as bait to draw out the real mastermind behind him.

The Hall of Gods had been operating in West Lucozia for years, and there was no way Mulder was acting alone. He was just a pawn. Somewhere in the shadows, someone far more powerful had to be pulling the strings.

Dustin’s goal was simple—lure that person out and eliminate them in one decisive move.

Mulder’s expression darkened with fury as he spat, “You’re forcing my hand, punk!”

He reached for a vial of enhanced serum at his waist and swiftly swallowed it. This serum was extremely rare and expensive—something he had spent years accumulating resources to obtain. It was his lifeline.

For a short time, the serum would grant him a massive surge of power, doubling his strength and making him nearly unstoppable. However, the side effects were severe.

If he failed to finish the fight before it wore off, the resulting exhaustion would leave him helpless—with only death awaiting him. That was why he had always kept it as a last resort.

But now, he had no choice.

It was all or nothing.