MY SUGAR MUMMY IS A BEAUTIFUL VAMPIRE

Chapter 394: Run it back

The cathedral stood silent and within its hallowed halls, two figures cut imposing silhouettes against the flickering candlelight. Duncan Salvador, the vampire god, exuded an aura of timeless power that seemed to bend reality around him. Beside him, Damien, the self-proclaimed Prince of Ancroft, postured with barely contained excitement.

Duncan's voice, rich and sonorous, filled the cavernous space. "Damien, my ambitious friend. You stand on the precipice of greatness, though perhaps not the kind you envisioned." A smile played at the corners of his mouth, equal parts charm and menace. "You see, you're to be part of a grander design, a plan that stretches beyond the limits of your... modest imagination."

Damien's eyes lit up, his mouth opening to interject, but Duncan continued as if he hadn't noticed. "Play your role well, and you might find yourself among my lieutenants when the new world order dawns."

"My lord," Damien burst out, unable to contain himself, "it's remarkable how our visions align! I too have been crafting a plan, one that will elevate all vampirekind to godhood alongside-"

Duncan's laughter, a sound like velvet over steel, cut through Damien's words. "Oh, Damien. Your enthusiasm is... quaint." He turned, his gaze sweeping over the cathedral's vaulted ceiling. "But let me enlighten you about true ambition."

Damien's face fell, a flicker of disappointment and anger flashing across his features. He quickly schooled his expression, acutely aware of the chasm of power between them. 'The nerve,' he thought, his internal voice seething. 'Does he not realize who he's speaking to? The Prince of Ancroft, reduced to a pawn?'

Oblivious - or perhaps indifferent - to Damien's inner turmoil, Duncan continued. "For eons, I've been unstoppable. A force of nature, bending the world to my will." His voice dropped, a hint of frustration coloring his words. "And yet, there remained one adversary I couldn't conquer. The sun."

Duncan's monologue came to an abrupt halt. The silence that followed was oppressive, heavy with unspoken power. In an instant, his head snapped to the side, eyes narrowing as if peering through the very walls of the cathedral.

When Duncan's gaze returned to Damien, it was sharp, probing. "Do you feel that?" he asked, his tone suddenly urgent.

Damien was already rigid, his eyes glowing an ominous crimson. Rage contorted his features, teeth bared in a snarl. "I know that aura," he growled, each word dripping with venom. "I'd recognize it anywhere. The man who made me suffer for two years." His fists clenched at his sides, trembling with barely contained fury. "Blake.

He's here, in this city. Close."

Duncan's eyebrows arched, a flicker of genuine interest crossing his face. "Well, well," he murmured, a slow smile spreading across his lips. "It seems our little drama has an unexpected player." He turned to face Damien fully, his presence suddenly overwhelming, filling the cathedral with an almost tangible darkness. "Tell me, my ambitious friend, just how personal is this vendetta of yours?"

Damien opened his mouth to respond, but Duncan held up a hand, silencing him effortlessly. "No, don't tell me yet. I think..." he paused, savoring the moment, "I think this might be an opportunity to test your mettle. To see if you're truly worthy of a place in my new world order."

The vampire god's laughter echoed through the cathedral once more, a sound that sent chills down Damien's spine despite his bravado. As Duncan's mirth faded, he fixed Damien with a penetrating stare. "Now, my would-be prince, show me what you're truly capable of. Prove that your ambitions are more than just... delusions of grandeur."

In that moment, as Duncan's words hung in the air, Damien felt the full weight of his predicament. He was caught between his burning desire for revenge and the terrifying reality of Duncan's power. The Prince of Ancroft, who had never bowed to anyone, now found himself dancing to another's tune.

******

The early dawn air crackled with tension as Gunther and Drake faced off at the entrance of the brothel. Their eyes locked, centuries of rivalry igniting between them.

"Fancy meeting you here, old friend," Drake sneered, his hands moving to the twin daggers at his hips.

Gunther's lips curled into a sardonic smile. "Friend? That's a stretch, Drake. Especially after our last... encounter."

Before Gunther could finish his retort, Drake's form shimmered and vanished. In the blink of an eye, Gunther felt a vise-like grip on his shoulder, the world blurring around him. When everything came back into focus, he found himself teetering on the edge of a distant rooftop, Drake's triumphant grin mere inches from his face.

"Still predictable as ever, Drake," Gunther growled, his body already dissolving into shadow. He slipped through Drake's grasp like smoke, reforming behind his opponent. "You always did like the high ground."

Drake spun, his daggers whistling through the air where Gunther's neck had been a moment before. "And you're still relying on parlor tricks, I see," he spat, teleporting again to avoid Gunther's counterattack.

The two vampires danced across the rooftop, a blur of steel and shadow. Gunther's form rippled and shifted, tendrils of darkness lashing out at Drake. But each time they came close, Drake would vanish in a flash of displaced air, reappearing meters away.

"You've gotten faster," Gunther admitted, his shadow-form coalescing just in time to parry a vicious thrust from Drake's daggers. "But speed isn't everything."

With a gesture, Gunther's shadow expanded, engulfing the entire rooftop in darkness. Drake's eyes widened as he found himself surrounded by inky blackness, his teleportation suddenly useless without a clear destination.

"Remember the island, Drake?" Gunther's voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere. "You couldn't see me then, either."

Drake gritted his teeth, memories of his humiliating defeat flooding back. "That was a fluke, Gunther. I've learned since then."

Suddenly, Drake felt a sharp pain in his side. He teleported instinctively, but the darkness followed. Another cut, this time across his back. Drake spun, slashing wildly at the shadows.

"Have you really learned, Drake?" Gunther taunted, his laughter seeming to come from all directions. "Or are you still Elena's obedient lapdog, following orders without question?"

Drake's face contorted with rage. "Better her knight than Rose's pawn!" he shouted, concentrating hard. In a burst of effort, he teleported rapidly in succession, creating a vortex that dispersed Gunther's shadows.

As the darkness receded, Drake caught a glimpse of Gunther's surprised expression. Not wasting the opportunity, he lunged forward, one of his daggers finding its mark in Gunther's shoulder.

Gunther hissed in pain, his form solidifying fully as he staggered back. "Not bad," he grudgingly admitted, pressing a hand to his wound. "But don't think this is over."

Drake advanced, a predatory grin on his face. "Oh, I think it is. You're bleeding, Gunther. And we both know what that means in our world."

But Gunther wasn't finished. As Drake closed in for the killing blow, Gunther's shadow suddenly sprang to life, wrapping around Drake's ankles and wrists like chains.

"You're right, Drake," Gunther said, straightening up despite his injury. "Blood does mean something in our world. It means power."

With a flick of his wrist, Gunther sent Drake flying across the rooftop. Drake teleported at the last second, reappearing on his feet, panting and disoriented.

Gunther pressed his advantage, his shadows coalescing into sharp tendrils that stabbed at Drake from all directions. Drake's teleportation became frantic, barely keeping ahead of the onslaught.

Finally, in a burst of shadow, Gunther appeared behind Drake, wrapping an arm around his throat and pinning him in place. Drake struggled, but the shadows held firm, creeping up his body.

"It's over, Drake," Gunther growled, tightening his grip. "Any last words before I finish what I started on that island?"

But just as Gunther prepared to deliver the final blow, Drake's eyes suddenly bulged. His body went rigid, face contorting in an expression of shock and fear.

"Elena," Drake gasped, his voice barely a whisper. In the next instant, he vanished, leaving Gunther grasping at empty air.

"You're mine," Gunther bellowed.

Gunther's eyes narrowed, a grim smile spreading across his face. He knew exactly where Drake was headed. Without a moment's hesitation, Gunther's form dissolved into a circular shadow, racing across the rooftop in hot pursuit.