MY SUGAR MUMMY IS A BEAUTIFUL VAMPIRE-Chapter 435: Eternity

Blake rushed at Nemisis his body trembling, not with fear, but with raw, unchecked rage. His red tears had long since burned into embers, his entire form wrapped in searing crimson flames.

Blood poured from him in waves, but he no longer bled like a man—he bled like a monster. His lifeblood did not spill weakly onto the ground. It rose, twisted, and hardened into weapons of war.

Two massive blades, each taller than him, burned in his grip, forged from his own essence. The edges dripped molten red, pulsing like they were alive, breathing with the rage he couldn’t contain.

And across from him, Nemesis stood.

The entity loomed tall, its grotesque limbs dangling loosely, its gaunt face split by that ever-present grin. The shadows around it swirled, licking hungrily at the air, as if tasting Blake’s fury.

Nemesis tilted its head, voice smooth as oil.

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"Impressive, little bloodsucker. But futile."

Blake’s response was a roar that split the heavens.

And then—he moved.

He was on Nemesis in an instant, a streak of red and fire carving through the void. His right blade came down, slicing through the air with enough force to crack reality itself.

Nemesis dodged.

The blade carved deep into the ground, sending a shockwave that tore the earth apart.

Blake didn’t stop.

His left blade swung upward in an arc, forcing Nemesis to leap back. But even as it moved, Blake’s blood roared to life.

Constructs.

A wave of monstrous, spiked tendrils erupted from the ground, writhing like demons summoned from hell.

They lashed out, slamming into Nemesis from all angles, slicing into its form, tearing shadows apart. But Nemesis was already shifting, its elongated limbs twisting unnaturally as it slipped through the gaps, its laughter never ceasing.

Then—it struck back.

A blackened tendril, long and jagged, snapped forward like a whip, crashing into Blake’s side. The impact sent him flying, his body tearing through the air before he slammed into the ground hard enough to leave a crater.

Pain lanced through him. His bones creaked. His vision blurred.

But he wasn’t done.

Not yet.

His body snapped back up, his blood responding before his mind did.

A massive claw of burning crimson formed above him, bigger than a house, its jagged fingers closing like a titan’s grip. It snatched Nemesis mid-dodge, squeezing with enough pressure to make the air scream.

Blake could hear Nemesis’s shadows warping, twisting, struggling against his grip. But this wasn’t just blood—it was fire-infused blood.

And fire burned shadows.

The moment the flames licked against its form, Nemesis let out its first true snarl of irritation.

Blake grinned.

"Not laughing now, are you?"

He clenched his fist. The massive claw tightened.

Nemesis hissed, but then—it exploded.

Shadows erupted outward, slamming into Blake like a tsunami of darkness, breaking apart his construct in an instant.

Before he could react, Nemesis was there, its elongated fingers wrapping around his skull.

"Do you see it yet?" Nemesis whispered, its voice slithering into his ears.

Blake’s body buckled.

A surge of cold, suffocating power washed over him as Nemesis lifted him off his feet and slammed him into the ground.

The impact shattered the very air around them.

Blake gasped, his entire form sinking into the broken earth. Blood leaked from his mouth.

Nemesis leaned down, its wicked grin stretching wider.

"You can fight for eternity, Blake. You can burn yourself down to the marrow. You can rage. But you cannot win."

Blake coughed, spitting blood. He could feel his body thinning, his own power eating away at him.

He should have been afraid.

But instead—he started laughing.

Low at first. Then louder. Until it echoed through the broken battlefield.

Nemesis frowned. "What’s so funny?"

Blake grinned up at the creature, eyes burning.

"Eternity you say?" He asked with a quiet chuckle.

"Good thing," he said, "I cleared my schedule before coming here."

Nemesis snarled.

Blake erupted.

A storm of fire and blood exploded outward, sending Nemesis stumbling back.

Before it could recover, Blake was on it.

His blades swung with reckless abandon, carving through shadows, slicing through limbs that regrew instantly.

Nemesis struck back, tendrils slamming into him, shadows piercing his flesh, ripping chunks from his body—but Blake didn’t stop.

He wouldn’t stop.

Blood surged around him, forming grotesque, monstrous figures—jagged wolves of crimson fire, a spear the size of a tree, a pair of wicked, serrated wings that flared behind him as he charged.

He took the pain.

He embraced it.

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His own body was thinning, burning away from the inside out, but it didn’t matter.

All that mattered was the battle.

All that mattered was punishing Nemesis for defiling Rose.

Nemesis struck again, but this time, Blake caught its arm mid-swing.

With a roar, he ripped it off.

The entity screeched as its limb dissolved into black mist.

But Blake wasn’t done.

His blood coiled around his fist, forming a drill of burning red.

He slammed it into Nemesis’s gut.

The explosion that followed tore through the battlefield.

Nemesis staggered, its form rippling, flickering.

Blake stood before it, body shaking, barely holding himself together.

But his fire still burned.

He lifted his blades, pointing them directly at the familiar.

"Release my wife’s soul."

Nemesis’s grin faltered for the first time.

And Blake attacked again.

Blake and Nemesis clashed in an explosion of fury, shadows and blood colliding with such force that the very air screamed.

There was no hesitation. No strategy. No restraint.

Only violence.

Blake swung first, his blade of burning blood carving through the darkness like a god’s wrath. Nemesis twisted, dodging, its elongated limbs bending at impossible angles. It countered with a strike of its own—shadowy claws tearing across Blake’s chest, ripping into flesh and bone.

Neither flinched.

Neither stopped.

Blake’s wounds sealed almost as quickly as they opened, fresh blood boiling into armor that coated his body. His entire form was thinning, his essence burning away with every second, but he pushed forward.

Nemesis grinned, its wicked smile stretching across its gaunt face.

It enjoyed this.

And so did Blake.

He roared, his blood bursting outward in jagged spikes, stabbing into the familiar from all directions. Nemesis let it happen, letting the spikes impale its body, only to twist through them, shadows shifting unnaturally as it lashed out with its tendrils.

Blake dodged one. Took another straight to the gut.

Laughed.

Nemesis laughed back.

Then they were at it again, slamming into each other like monsters that had nothing left to lose.

Every strike was a killing blow. Every movement left destruction in its wake.

Blake launched himself into the air, his wings of fire and blood flaring behind him as he dived, spinning like a spear. Nemesis met him mid-air, shadowy blades forming along its lanky arms.

They clashed.

A sonic boom shattered the battlefield.

Nemesis’s grin widened. "More!"

Blake spat blood. "You first."

He drove a fist forward, his entire arm exploding into a claw of molten red. It caught Nemesis in the side, carving a massive gash through its form.

The familiar’s grin never faltered. Instead, it grabbed Blake by the throat.

Dark tendrils wrapped around his body, squeezing, crushing.

Blake’s fire flared. His blood ignited.

He grinned through the pain.

Then—BOOM!

His entire body exploded in a violent burst of flaming gore, forcing Nemesis to release him.

Before the smoke could clear, Blake reformed from the blood that had sprayed across the battlefield, his form even more monstrous, his eyes burning with unholy rage.

He charged forward, screaming, his blades twisting into serrated whips.

Nemesis dodged—only for a construct of Blake’s own burning head to rise from the ground, biting down on it.

The creature ripped itself free, its shadows unraveling before reforming again.

They laughed.

They laughed through broken bodies, through torn limbs, through wounds that should have ended them.

They laughed in each other’s faces like two demons dancing on the edge of oblivion.

Blake wasn’t fighting to survive anymore.

He was fighting because he wanted to.

Nemesis wasn’t fighting to win.

It was fighting because it thrived in destruction.

The battlefield cracked beneath them.

The spirit world itself trembled.

Neither cared.

Blake swung his blades. Nemesis dodged, striking back with a shadowed fist.

Blake caught it.

Their faces were inches apart, grinning like lunatics, blood and darkness dripping from their bodies.

Then, as if agreeing silently—

They broke apart—

And charged again.