MY SUGAR MUMMY IS A BEAUTIFUL VAMPIRE

Chapter 306: Blood bullets

A furrow creased Damien's brow as he pondered the enigma before him. "The timeline is perplexing," he continued, his tone laced with curiosity. "The transition from one rank to another typically spans centuries, yet you have achieved such power in a fraction of that time."

A flicker of uncertainty danced in Damien's eyes as he regarded Blake, a sense of unease stirring within him. "We share a commonality, you and I," he declared, his voice taking on a steely edge. "Neither of us is bound by the limitations of mortal flesh."

Leaning closer, Damien fixed Blake with a piercing gaze. "But make no mistake," he warned, his voice low and menacing. "Even with your newfound strength, you are no match for me. I am a god," he proclaimed, the finality of his words echoing through the chamber.

"You may fancy yourself a god," Blake began, his voice low and ominous, "but gods are not immune to the consequences of their actions." His gaze flickered briefly to Rose, still trapped within Damien's icy grasp, before returning to meet Damien's cold stare.

"You were right to refer to the old me as a mere bump," Blake declared, his words laced with a quiet intensity. "But this new me," he continued, his voice rising with conviction, "is the stop sign,"

"Now since you laid your hand upon her," Blake scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain, "not even the depths of hell nor the heights of heaven will accommodate your soul by the time I'm through with you!!!" Each word was laden with a quiet fury, a simmering rage that threatened to boil over at any moment.

The air crackled with tension as Damien's gaze narrowed, a flicker of uncertainty dancing in his eyes for the briefest of moments. But then, like a storm gathering strength, his resolve hardened once more, his lips curling into a mocking smirk.

"Bold words from a mere mortal," Damien retorted, his voice dripping with contempt. "That's right, you will always remain one to me," Damien said with a smirk on his face,"

He faced Blake with a smug grin, his confidence unshakable. "This is brazing, downright insulting! Do you even know who I am? Do you really think you can stand against me, Damien Durello, ruler of the Durello house?" he taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance.

However, Blake's response was swift and decisive. With a stomp to the ground, he created a wide crack leading up to a wall, the sheer force of his action sending shockwaves through the room. Yet, it was the sight of blood seeping from the sole of his foot that drew Damien's attention, igniting a spark of amusement in his eyes.

"Are you even serious?" he jeered. "How do you hope to defeat me if a mere shard of ice can cause you to bleed?"

But Blake scoffed in response, dismissing Damien's mockery with a wave of his hand. "Doctor Martina warned me about your ice powers," he retorted. "But I guess that's because she has yet to see what I can do myself."

With a subtle twiddle of his fingers, Blake manipulated the blood, causing it to float up in front of him as he locked eyes with Damien. It was a silent challenge, come when you are ready, Damien.

Undeterred by Blake's display, Damien's voice dripped with disdain as he addressed Blake, his words laced with arrogance and contempt. "If Elena was half as efficient as she blabbed to be, you would be nothing but a memory," he sneered, his gaze piercing. "One that no one would remember. However, I seem to be surrounded by incompetence."

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Damien brushed aside any notion of reliance on others. "No matter," he declared, his tone cold and calculated. "If you want something done right, you do it yourself."

As the words hung in the air, charged with a palpable sense of menace, Damien raised his hand with purpose. With a swift, fluid motion, he conjured a barrier of ice, sealing off the exit door in a shimmering cascade of frost. The room grew colder, the air thick with tension as Damien effectively trapped both himself and Blake within its confines.

It was a bold move, a testament to Damien's unwavering determination and ruthless resolve. With the exit sealed shut, there was no escape, no reprieve.

The air crackled with energy as Damien launched himself forward, his eyes aglow with a faint blue hue. Trails of shimmering ice followed in his wake, propelling him towards Blake with Ill intent.

Blake wasted no time in retaliating. With a swift flick of his index finger, he summoned globules of blood that transformed into crimson projectiles, each resembling a deadly dart glowing eerily. These blood bullets streaked towards Damien with incredible speed, aimed at inflicting maximum damage upon impact.

As the projectiles closed in on him, Damien attempted to swat one away with his bare palms, a futile gesture against the sheer force of Blake's attack. The blood bullet pierced through his hand, leaving behind a bloody hole as evidence of its lethal trajectory.

Despite the excruciating pain, Damien's demeanor remained eerily composed. There were no shouts of agony or grimaces of distress, only a profound sense of surprise as he observed the injury inflicted upon him. His gaze shifted to Blake, who unleashed even more blood bullets in rapid succession.

"Such power," Damien muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with a mix of admiration and fascination. He was mesmerized by the sheer potency of Blake's blood-based abilities, a testament to the depths of his newfound strength.

Witnessing the effectiveness of his conjured skill which only took him alone time during the last days in the safe house to learn, Blake decided to escalate the assault. Taking a page from the countless comic books he had read, conjuring up skills was an easy task, the difficult part was yet to come.

He began to unleash a relentless barrage of blood bullets, resembling a semi-automatic weapon in its ferocity and speed while keeping in mind not to hit Rose.

However, Damien was a fast learner and he was quick to realize the folly of attempting to deflect the projectiles head-on. Instead, he adopted a more cautious approach, relying on his agility and reflexes to evade Blake's attacks. With blurs of ice trailing behind him, he weaved through the onslaught of blood bullets, each movement executed with precision and grace.

"Such speed," Blake muttered.