MY SUGAR MUMMY IS A BEAUTIFUL VAMPIRE

Chapter 433 Personal hell

Blake forced himself to move faster. Faster. His feet barely touched the ground as he sprinted through the broken spirit realm, jagged structures dissolving in the wake of their battle.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk" Nemisis's voice slithered through the air, mockery laced in every syllable.

"I thought you were a warrior, Blake! A nightmare to those who stood against you. And yet look at you now."

Blake risked a glance over his shoulder and immediately regretted it.

Nemisis wasn't chasing him. It was walking.

Its tall, grotesque frame moved leisurely, chains dragging behind like the rattling death knell of something inescapable. It was enjoying this.

And worst of all, its eyes.

Glowing pits of bottomless void, full of sadistic amusement.

"This is pathetic," Nemisis sighed, almost disappointed. "I haven't even gotten serious yet."

Blake's stomach twisted. He knew.

The bastard was playing with him.

Something inside him broke.

For the first time in his existence, Blake ran not out of strategy he ran out of pure, unfiltered terror.

The air behind him split apart.

Blake's instincts screamed.

Move!

He veered sharply to the side as a monstrous tendril of pure darkness erupted from Nemisis's back, slicing through the space he had occupied a fraction of a second ago.

Another.

And another.

The tendrils shot out in blinding succession, lashing at his heels like whips of living void. One narrowly missed his thigh. Another brushed his shoulder, leaving behind an icy burn that spread rapidly through his veins.

Shit!

They were hunting him.

Nemisis didn't need to move fast. It was everywhere.

"You think you can escape me?" the familiar cooed, relishing in Blake's fear.

A tendril shot forward.

Blake twisted mid-air, using the blood dripping from his wounds to propel himself forward. He landed hard, stumbling slightly before continuing his sprint.

"Where's that warrior spirit now, Blake? You were so bold just moments ago!"

Blake ignored the taunts, focusing solely on keeping ahead.

He wasn't a fool.

He knew he couldn't win this.

His best chance? Buying time.

But Nemisis had other plans.

The very ground beneath him split apart.

A massive hand formed from swirling, living shadows burst from below, attempting to grab him.

Blake barely dodged, flipping backward and rebounding off a crumbling spire.

He needed to change the terrain. Get away from open ground.

His eyes locked onto a series of ruined structures ahead, their jagged formations offering potential cover.

He surged forward, weaving through the crumbling remains only for Nemisis to be there first.

It stood atop a broken column, grinning.

"You should feel honored," Nemesis murmured. "You 'll be the first to witness this rebirth."

The shadows obeyed his will, creeping into Rose 's body like ink spilling into water. They slithered over her porcelain skin, coiling around her arms, her throat, her lips,before finally, they seeped into her mouth.

Blake could do nothing but watch in sheer horror.

She convulsed.

Her back arched, fingers twitching as if possessed. Then, just as suddenly, her body stilled.

The silence was deafening.

Then Nemesis exhaled,dissolving into a dark wisp, fading into nothing. His grip vanished. The suffocating weight was gone.

Blake collapsed onto his hands and knees, coughing violently, gasping for breath. His vision spun, and pain screamed in his ribs.

But none of it mattered.

He forced himself to look up.

And there she stood.

Rose.

His wife. The mother of their daughter.

But not her.

Something was wrong.

Her frame was rigid, too still. Her eyes,normally filled with warmth, mischief, love,glowed an unnatural red, not even the vampire rage kind, soulless and hollow. Her fangs glistened under the dim, ghostly light. Her fingers had changed,elongated, twisted into razor-sharp claws.

The air grew thick. Suffocating.

Blake 's hands clenched into fists. "Rose?"

She didn 't respond.

And then,

Nemesis' voice slithered through the void, his amusement taunting. "Wouldn 't it be poetic?" he mused. "To die by the hands of the one you love most?"

A twisted chuckle. "Oh, what a love story."

Blake barely had time to process the words before Rose moved.

She was a blur.

Before his brain could even register her approach, an iron fist slammed into his chest.

The impact was like being hit by a comet.

Agony erupted through him, a shockwave tearing through his body. He felt his ribs shatter yet again like brittle glass, the force sending a fountain of blood from his mouth. The curse of being immortal meant it took just more than the extra amount of force needed to kill him. And because he wasn't exactly the regular comic book vampire he read about, his powers were slightly different. He was stronger, faster and healed, faster as well. Through all the hell, he'd wished one thing, somewhere in the middle of the fight that he'd just die from the pain alone.

But his wish wasn't coming to fruition anytime soon. No, he couldn't even kill himself right now if he wanted to with how weak he was. Still, he was durable enough to not completely break apart. And that in itself was a nightmare.

With his heightened senses, he could see the blood droplets shatter mid-air,splintering into tiny red fragments as the sheer force of her punch disrupted the very space around him.

And then he was airborne.

Blake 's body was flung back, skidding across the ground at impossible speed. The spirit world was an endless void, but for a moment, he swore he felt the entire realm tilt from the impact.

Pain blurred everything.

He struggled to breathe, his lungs barely functioning. His fingers twitched against the cold nothingness beneath him, and through the haze of agony, he forced himself to lift his head.

And there she was.

Rose.

Standing in the distance.

Staring at him with those soulless, red eyes.

This wasn 't a nightmare.

This was real.

And he had no idea how to stop it.