MY SUGAR MUMMY IS A BEAUTIFUL VAMPIRE

Duncan placed his hands on Damien's chest, fingers splayed over the web of scar tissue that marred the once-flawless skin. The wound as a result of Blake's devastating attack, was a grotesque masterpiece of raised welts and discolored flesh, spanning from Damien's left shoulder to his ribs. Tendrils of corruption, visible as dark veins beneath the skin, pulsed with an unholy rhythm.

As Duncan's power surged into him, the world exploded into agony. Damien arched off the altar, a scream tearing from his throat. It felt as if every cell in his body was being torn apart and reassembled. Wave after wave of pain crashed over him, each one threatening to sweep away his sanity.

Through the haze of torment, Damien could sense something being drawn out of him - a dark, corrupting force that had taken root in his very essence. He could feel it fighting, clinging desperately to his being as Duncan's power sought to expel it. The scar tissue on his chest began to writhe, as if alive, the corrupted flesh resisting the cleansing with all its might.

The partially concealed wound on Damien's face, a jagged line running from his left temple to the corner of his mouth, began to weep a black, tar-like substance. The carefully applied makeup that had hidden the worst of the disfigurement melted away, revealing the full extent of the damage.

The skin around the wound, once pale and smooth, was now a mottled landscape of purples, greens, and sickly yellows.

Hours blurred together, punctuated only by brief moments of lucidity. In these fleeting instants, Damien caught glimpses of Duncan's face, etched with concentration. Sweat beaded on the vampire god's brow, his usually impassive features twisted into a grimace of effort. The air around them crackled with energy, flashes of eldritch light casting strange shadows across the cathedral's ancient stones.

The effort required to purge the corruption was clearly taxing even for the vampire god. Duncan's hands trembled slightly, veins standing out on his forearms as he channeled more and more power into Damien's broken body. The corrupted blood that was being expelled gathered in a roiling, inky pool beneath the altar, hissing and steaming as it touched the consecrated ground.

As the excruciating process continued, Damien's wounds began to change. The writhing scar tissue on his chest slowly calmed, the angry red fading to a more natural pink. The black veins receded, replaced by the normal blue of healthy blood vessels. On his face, the tar-like substance ceased flowing, and the discolored skin began to regain its original pallor.

With each passing moment, Damien could feel strength returning to his limbs, the fog of weakness that had clouded his mind for so long finally beginning to lift. Yet the pain remained, the price he was paying for this second chance at power and redemption.

As the first hints of dawn began to color the sky, Duncan finally stepped back. Damien lay gasping on the altar, his body trembling with exhaustion and residual pain. He felt... different. Lighter, somehow, as if a great weight had been lifted from him.

This chapter upload first at NovelUsb.Com

Duncan stepped back, his eyes fixed on a small, swirling vortex of darkness hovering above his palm. It pulsed with malevolent energy, seeming to whisper promises of violence and destruction.

"Fascinating," Duncan murmured, studying the corrupted blood. "Such power, and yet so unstable. This Blake of yours is a true anomaly, Damien. I've not seen its like in millennia."

Damien struggled to sit up, his newly restored strength still settling into his body. "What will you do with it, my lord?"

Duncan's eyes hardened. "This power is too volatile, too unpredictable to be allowed to exist in our world." He raised his hand, his face set in concentration. The vortex of corrupted blood began to rise, faster and faster, until it shot through the cathedral's roof and into the night sky.

Damien watched in awe as the dark speck grew smaller and smaller, eventually disappearing among the stars. "Is it... gone?"

"Cast into the void between worlds," Duncan confirmed. "Where it can harm no one. It is done, Duncan announced, his voice weary but triumphant. "The corruption has been purged from your system."

"Thank you, my lord," Damien managed to rasp out.

Duncan held up a hand. "Do not thank me yet, little prince. Your body is clean, yes, but your powers remain somewhat dormant. It will take time and effort to fully restore what you have lost."

Disappointment crashed over Damien, but he nodded in understanding. "What must I do, my lord?"

"You must remember what it felt like to wield your powers. Focus on that sensation, that connection to the ice within you. Start small - a frost on your fingertips, a chill in the air. Build from there. Then you can be assured you have been restored to your former glory,"

Damien closed his eyes, focusing on the memory of his once-great power. He searched for that familiar cold core within himself, the source of his icy abilities. At first, there was nothing, and a flicker of panic raced through him. But then, faintly, he felt it - a tiny spark of winter.

Concentrating, Damien extended his hand. A thin layer of frost began to form on his fingertips, delicate and pure. Unlike before, when his ice had been tainted with streaks of corrupted blood, this frost was pristine, glistening in the cathedral's dim light.

Encouraged, Damien pushed further. The frost expanded, covering his entire hand. He opened his eyes, marveling at the sight. With a thought, the frost coalesced into a small, perfect ice crystal hovering above his palm. It didn't shatter or melt as his weakened constructs had done in the past months. Instead, it remained solid and flawless.

Excitement building, Damien began to create more complex forms. An intricate snowflake materialized in the air, its delicate arms branching out in fractal patterns. Next came a miniature ice sculpture of a rose, each petal and thorn rendered in exquisite detail.

As his confidence grew, so did the scale of his creations. A life-sized ice statue of a wolf appeared beside him, its frozen eyes seeming to gleam with an inner light. Damien gestured, and the statue came to life, padding silently across the cathedral floor before dissolving into a shower of snowflakes.

Damien's power surged through him, stronger than ever before. He stood from his wheelchair, feeling strength course through his once-weakened limbs. With a sweeping motion of his arms, he sent a wave of ice racing across the cathedral floor. It climbed the ancient stone walls, coating pillars and arches in a layer of gleaming frost.

Intricate ice formations sprouted from every surface - delicate icicles hanging from the ceiling, frozen vines twining around statues, crystalline flowers blooming in forgotten corners. The temperature plummeted, each breath now visible as a cloud of mist.

In a final, awe-inspiring display, Damien raised his hands toward the vaulted ceiling. A swirling vortex of snow and ice formed above him, growing larger and more intense by the second. With a shout of exultation, he released the built-up energy. The vortex exploded outward, blanketing the entire cathedral in a layer of snow and ice.

When it was done, the cathedral had been transformed into a breathtaking winter wonderland. Every surface glittered with ice crystals, the air itself seeming to shimmer with cold power.

Throughout the entire display, Duncan stood motionless, his hands clasped behind his back. His face remained impassive, betraying neither approval nor disapproval as he watched Damien explore the full extent of his restored abilities. The vampire god seemed unaffected by the drastic drop in temperature, the ice and snow swirling around him but never quite touching his form.

Panting slightly from the exertion, Damien turned to face Duncan, a mixture of pride and apprehension on his face as he awaited the vampire god's verdict.

"I'm back!" Damien said as he panted. "I feel even more powerful. Is this of your doing?!" He asked.

Duncan nodded, a hint of approval in his eyes. "A start, nothing more. Now, go back to your abode and build on it. Remember who you were, Damien. Remember the power you once wielded."

Damien nodded eagerly. "Of course, my lord. I'll continue immediately I get back to my abode. Might I suggest starting with-"

"Not so fast," Duncan cut him off. "Before you go... There's something else..."