My Stepmom Is a Vampire
Copyright© 2025 by Vamp
Chapter 43: Capturing Isolde II
David’s knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the ground, staring at the corpse of his daughter. It was Elle.
Truly her—long black hair like a night sky, ocean-deep blue eyes just like her mother’s.
“Elle ... Elle, I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me.” His voice cracked as he reached out, trembling fingers brushing her cheek.
The moment he touched her, her body crumbled into dust. Ash, brittle and black, like charcoal. Like the night she burned alive.
“No! No, no, no!” His scream tore through the dream. “Don’t leave me again!”
He tried desperately to hold onto the ashes, but they slipped through his fingers, carried away by the cruel wind.
A hand touched his shoulder. Soft, steady.
“David...”
It was Maria. Somehow, her expression was calm. Of course, it was because she was a Pharos.
Their kind could resist Psyche-type vampires. Not invincible, but clear-eyed enough to see through the lies.
David’s chest tightened with envy.
“Calm down,” she whispered in his ear. “I know where her Vitalis Core is. Psyche-types aren’t built for combat. We still have a chance.”
David wanted to tell her the truth. That in this endless dream, Isolde was everything—the sky, the ground, the weapon in his hand.
Even his power bent to her will. Reaching the Vitalis Core was a fantasy.
That core, the very life of the vampire and their weakness.
But he was a leader. He couldn’t shatter the fragile hope in Maria’s voice. Couldn’t admit his own doubt. Not when he was the only one implanted with a Core himself.
The shard of crimson crystal inside his chest gave him the power of their race, a weapon to turn against them.
So he swallowed the despair. Forced himself to his feet. Wiped the tears from his face.
“Let’s try it,” he said quietly. “Better to die fighting than die doing nothing.”
Maria gave a small nod, her voice barely a breath. She told him where to strike, where Isolde’s Core might be hidden.
He tightened his grip on the sword, feeling the B-rank Vitalis within his own body hum to life. The blade shone with a fiery edge, sharp enough to cut through immortal flesh.
But the truth gnawed at him. This was a dream. The sword wasn’t his. Nothing was his. Could he really cut her down?
He pushed the thought away and leveled the blade at Isolde. His voice was steady now.
“I’m done with your mind games. Let’s end this with a duel.” A grim smile pulled at his lips.
“And I know your kind, dream eater. There are two rules, you can bend everything here, but if you die in this dream, you die in the real world. That’s the price of your power.”
Isolde tilted her head, crimson eyes gleaming. Then she smiled.
“Oh, darling,” she purred, “do you truly believe that little toy can touch me? You can’t even cut through my illusions.”
She spread her arms wide as moths of fire swirled around her, her voice curling with mockery.
“But if it will amuse you, then very well. Let’s play your little duel.”
David tightened his grip on his blade, forcing himself not to falter. He had studied dream eaters from the old book because they were rare, trained for this.
He lunged forward, steel cutting through the smoky air. Isolde’s form flickered, then split into three, then five, shadows laughing with her voice.
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