MY SUGAR MUMMY IS A BEAUTIFUL VAMPIRE-Chapter 434: Red comet

Blake barely had time to react before she was on him. Rose’s body moved like a ghost in the dark, a blur of red eyes and bared fangs. A hand struck out—faster than he could track—and he barely twisted in time to avoid having his throat crushed. But before he could even register relief, a knee slammed into his ribs, sending him skidding across the void.

His vision blurred. The spirit world had no true ground, yet he felt the impact in every bone. The air—or whatever passed for it in this cursed plane—rushed out of his lungs.

But he had no time to breathe.

Rose was already there.

A pale hand seized his arm, yanking him upright. He swung a desperate fist, but she ducked, pivoting like a dancer, her movements sharper than he remembered. Before he could reset his stance, a vicious elbow crashed into his face, snapping his head back. Blood—spiritual or otherwise—splattered from his nose.

’Damn it… she’s too fast.’

His mind raced as he stumbled back, trying to find an opening.

He didn’t get one.

Rose’s heel drove into his stomach, folding him in half before she clasped both hands together and brought them down on his back like a war hammer. He hit the ground—if it could be called that—face-first. A split-second later, a boot slammed onto his spine, pinning him.

Blake gasped, straining against the pressure. He could hear Nemesis’s laughter in the void, an ever-present reminder that he was still there, savoring every moment of this torture.

"Pathetic," Nemesis purred. "You’re still holding back, aren’t you? You think she’s still in there?"

Blake clenched his teeth.

Rose wasn’t just hitting him with raw power—she was fighting with precision, with efficiency. He had spent time training his body, refining his combat, but she… she was something else entirely now. And worse, every time he thought she hesitated, that a flicker of her old self returned, Nemesis twisted reality, whispering in his ear, making him falter.

And each time, she punished him for it.

A hand closed around his throat, dragging him upward.

He met her gaze—those red eyes, once filled with love, now blank and cold.

"Rose…" he gasped. "It’s me."

Her grip tightened.

He barely got his arms up before she threw him, launching him through the air. His body spun violently before crashing into the nothingness, tumbling until he came to a stop on one knee. He spat out blood and wiped his mouth, breath ragged.

’Think, damn it…’

She came at him again, and he forced himself to move, ducking under her swipe. His hands shot forward, aiming to grab her arms, but Nemesis’s voice slithered through his mind—She’s back, Blake. Look at her eyes.

He hesitated.

That split second cost him everything.

Rose pivoted, her foot lashing out. The kick struck his temple, and the world exploded into white noise. Blake staggered, his balance faltering. She didn’t let up. A flurry of strikes followed—knees, elbows, a palm strike to his ribs that sent shockwaves through his core.

He tried to guard. Failed.

He tried to counter. Failed.

Blake had fought countless battles, had bled and broken himself against warriors, monsters, and gods alike. But nothing had ever felt like this—like being completely and utterly overwhelmed.

She was cooking him alive.

A final strike—a palm to his chest—sent him soaring backward.

He landed hard, skidding to a stop. His limbs felt sluggish, his body screaming in protest. He could already feel his spirit fraying at the edges, the strain of the spirit world weighing him down.

And still, Nemesis laughed.

"You should see yourself, Blake," the voice cooed. "The mighty warrior, the devoted husband. And yet, here you are, broken at her feet."

Blake’s hands clenched into fists.

Rose moved again—so fast she blurred—but this time, he was ready.

He shifted at the last moment, twisting away from her outstretched hand. His fingers grazed her wrist—just enough to redirect her momentum. Her body spun, and for the first time, she was off balance.

His chance.

Blake surged forward. His arms wrapped around her, twisting her into a hold that locked her in place. He forced her back, maneuvering swiftly, and in an instant, he had her—his hands around her head, her body immobilized.

Her struggles ceased.

They stood frozen in that moment, her life—or whatever was left of it—balanced in his grip. His breathing was ragged, his body trembling. He could feel her warmth, could remember every moment they had shared, every promise whispered in the dark.

And then, Nemesis spoke.

"Do it."

Blake’s grip tightened.

The voice came again, smoother, more insidious.

"You know what you have to do. She’s gone. All that’s left is a vessel. Finish it, Blake. Snap her neck."

His fingers twitched.

Rose—his Rose—was standing before him, but was she even in there? Could she be saved? Or was Nemesis right?

His heart pounded.

"End it."

His breath hitched.

"End. It."

Blake’s grip faltered.

And in that moment, Rose’s lips curled into something eerily familiar.

She smiled.

And then—she moved.

Blake barely had time to blink before Rose came at him again, faster, stronger, deadlier than before.

He had thought she’d slowed down after his last move, but he was wrong. She was only getting started.

A vicious fist cracked against his ribs, sending a sharp jolt of pain up his side. He barely had time to register it before her knee drove into his stomach, stealing the air from his lungs. He doubled over, but she wasn’t done. Not even close.

She grabbed his collar and yanked him forward, her forehead slamming into his nose. A sickening crunch echoed through the spirit world, and blood—his blood—splattered into the void. His vision spun, and before he could recover, Rose spun on her heel and drove her elbow into the side of his head, sending him flying.

Blake skidded to a stop, his breath ragged.

’Damn it… She’s too strong.’

Rose wasn’t just fighting—she was obliterating him. Every move, every strike was calculated to dismantle him. He had fought beasts, monsters, even gods, but this was something else entirely.

This was the woman he loved breaking him apart.

He tried to rise, but she was already there. A kick slammed into his side, sending him rolling. She pounced, straddling him, her fingers closing around his throat, squeezing.

Blake gasped, clawing at her grip. He could feel the darkness in her, the twisting presence of Nemesis leeching away every piece of her that had once been his Rose.

He had no choice.

Blood surged from his back, forming into writhing red tendrils. They snapped forward, wrapping around her limbs, locking her in place.

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Rose struggled, snarling like a rabid beast, her eyes blazing red.

Blake swallowed hard, his throat raw. "I’m sorry."

Nemesis’s laughter echoed through the void, low and sinister.

"DO IT."

Blake’s head shook.

"DO IT, BLAKE!"

His body trembled. His hands clenched. And then, with a roar, he screamed.

His red tears, streaking down his face, ignited into flames. The blood of the dragon he had slain months ago—the fire still burned in him.

The tendrils tightened.

Rose’s struggles became more frenzied, but Blake didn’t stop.

He took a deep breath—then stabbed her body with his blood tendrils.

Dozens of piercing strikes, precise and controlled.

But he wasn’t trying to kill her.

He was forcing blood into her.

Not just any blood.

Burning. Raging. Furious blood.

Rose’s body convulsed violently. Her mouth opened in a silent scream before the sound finally tore through her throat—a piercing, agonized wail.

Her body burned from the inside, every vein igniting with the dragon’s fire. Blake gritted his teeth, pushing more of his blood into her, using it as a purging force to rip Nemesis out.

The darkness inside her twisted, fighting back, writhing like a beast in pain.

Then, all at once, it snapped.

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A deep, guttural shriek filled the air as a dark swirl of shadows erupted from Rose’s body, pulling itself free like a spirit being exorcised.

Blake released her, his tendrils retracting in an instant.

Rose collapsed to the ground, her body limp, her breath ragged.

Blake staggered but forced himself to move. He summoned his blood, weaving it into a protective cocoon around her. The red energy swirled, hardening, solidifying—then slowly turned black, sealing her within.

He knelt beside the cocoon, pressing a hand against it. His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

"I’ll be back."

Then, he rose to his feet, turning to face Nemesis.

The entity was no longer hiding within Rose. Now, it stood in its true form—a writhing mass of shadows, shifting and twisting, its elongated limbs stretching into grotesque tentacles. Its face, a hollow void, split open in a grin that dripped with malice.

Blake’s eyes burned with fury. His body ached, his breath was shallow, but none of it mattered.

No more running.

No more hesitation.

His fists clenched. Blood swirl around his body, wrapping him in an aura of power. His gaze locked onto Nemesis with nothing but pure, unrelenting rage.

"No one…"

The blood around him thickened, swirling faster, turning the air electric with energy.

"…touches…"

The ground beneath him cracked, energy rippling outward.

"…MY WIFE."

Then—he moved.

A sonic boom erupted as Blake shot forward like a bullet, the sheer force sending shockwaves in his wake. Blood spiraled around him, a red comet streaking toward Nemesis.

And in that instant—

The real fight began.

For the last time.