My Stepmom Is A Vampire & Her Entire Bloodline Wants To Breed Me

Chapter 28: Dream Walker

”What the fuck are you guys doing? Get lost!” Seamus snapped, eyes darting across the hallway.

Everyone was frozen in panic, scrambling to be anywhere but near him. Their auras were mostly pale brown to represent fear. Dull and pathetic.

His gaze shifted to the bully collapsed on the floor. Seamus felt no pity. No patience. If they died, the world would be a better place. That made them perfect for what he had in mind.

’System, bond my attribute to Isolde.’

—

[Tying The Knot Activated!]

[Chosen Bond: Isolde Velstrath]

[Calculating Attribute Merge...]

[Your attributes are being amplified with Isolde’s!]

Sanguine Vein: 550 → 4,850 (+4,300)

ATK: 70 → 1,570 (+1,500)

DEF: 55 → 1,505 (+1,450)

SPD: 75 → 1,555 (+1,480)

STR: 65 → 1,540 (+1,475)

CHA: 75 → 1,575 (+1,500)

VIT: 70 → 1,530 (+1,460)

[Blood Style Skill Unlocked: Somnium Eternity (stage three: The Labyrinth Architect)]

[Create vast dream realms with unlimited capacity. Absolute control over all aspects within. Killings or breaking souls in the dream causes irreversible mental collapse in reality.]

[Warning!]

[This bond gives you overwhelming power, but the strain is catastrophic. Prolonged use can destroy your body if your natural evolution tier can’t handle the energy.]

—

Seamus widened his eyes in shock. He knew Isolde was strong but the disparage of power between him and her was terrifying.

Especially when she has great control of her power to the point she could hold him gently without accidentally breaking him.

’Holy shit! If i don’t have this system, how can i be able to defeat her? Waiting for hundreds of years?!’

”This is insane.” he muttered.

How come creatures with this kind of power living among humans and earth weren’t going into full blown war between human race and vampire that ended up in apocalypse?!

Sure, there were vampire hunters... but weren’t they human? How do they have a chance against this monstrosity?!

But then he shakes his head, he needs to focus on his purpose for now.

’Can I send them to the dream realm like Isolde did now?’

—

[High-Risk Skill Activation Detected]

[Warning: You are attempting to invoke (Somnium Eternal: Stage 3 – The Labyrinth Architect)]

[Estimated Sanguine Veins cost to build the dream realm: 3,500 SV]

[Mental Backlash: Severe – Risk of permanent damage of Sagacitas]

[Recommendation: Activate (Somnium Eternal: Stage 1 – The Walker Of Dream) instead.]

▸ Cost: 20 SV/min

▸ Mental Load: Low

▸ Instability: Minimal

—

Seamus nodded. He expected the system to warn him, but it was still reassuring. At least he could use

Isolde’s power.
’Stages, huh... I’ll ask the system about them later.’

Because apparently the class would start soon and he was still in the hallway with fainted bullies.

’Fine then. I’ll test the first stage and see how strong this Blood Style really is.’

[The Walker of Dreams Activated!]

[To use this Blood Style, you must spread (Somnium Spore) using your own blood.]

[As long as the spores remain inside the target’s body, you can visit their dreams at any time.]

Seamus crouched down and yanked a pin from Marcus’s jacket. Without flinching, he jabbed it into his own finger.

A deep, almost black red drop of blood gathered, floating upward before dissolving into a haze of spores that drifted into the unconscious bullies’ lungs.

[Somnium Spores have embedded into their bodies. Would you like to enter one of their dreams now and connect it to their deepest nightmare?]

[Warning: Doing so will force your physical body into a sleep state and leave you vulnerable.]

’Nope. I’ve got a test coming up. I’ll do it later.’

As he turned to leave, something caught his attention, a movement. Someone had been watching him. He whipped around, but whoever it was had vanished too fast to follow.

All he caught was the faint trail of pink aura lingering in the air.

Admiration. Or... a crush?

’Huh?’

***

Seamus looked at his bullies with a smirk. They were completely lost inside the nightmare he had slipped into their dreams. As pathetic as ever. But what caught him off guard was the absurdity of Marcus’s subconscious.

The boy stood in nothing but his underwear in the middle of a beach, confidently whistling at a group of girls.

That confidence shattered in an instant when his underwear tore straight down the middle, exposing a sad little nub that barely qualified as a fingerling. Silence fell for half a beat and then erupted into laughter.

”You call that

a dick? My middle finger is longer than that.”
”Quick, someone get a magnifying glass!!”

”He’s not a man, he’s a myth. A microscodick legend”

The group of women began to approach him, their eyes wide and unblinking, stretched too far like porcelain masks forced into glee. Their mouths twisted into gleaming smirks, lips curling too much at the edges.

They circled him slowly, like hyenas to carrion, chanting in a singsong tone that turned sharper with every step:

”Tiny, tiny, tiniest one~”

”Shriveled shrimp of Marcus the Dun~”

”Where’s your manhood? Oh, it ran!”

Marcus screamed and backed away, clutching his hands over his groin as the crowd drew closer. But it was a dream, and dreams obeyed no rules except for the Dream Walker.

His feet wouldn’t move. The sand swallowed his ankles. The sun dimmed. Their laughter deepened into something distorted, warped with static and echo, pressing in from all sides.

Seamus grinned wider. That was only the beginning as he snapped his finger, teleporting Marcus into a more terrifying dream of his friend, Dylan.

***

Marcus, now fully clothed, let out a shaky breath of relief. But that relief vanished quickly as he looked across the table at his friend Dylan.

The boy sat stiffly in his chair, pale and drenched in sweat, with blood splattered across his clothes and face.

From behind, Marcus heard a woman humming softly. The tune was gentle, but it clashed horribly with the wet, rhythmic sound of something being chopped.

He turned around.

A woman stood by the stove, cooking. But the walls around her were soaked in blood. And then, he heard it. A familiar scream, raw, and full of pain.

Connor.

Marcus’s eyes widened in horror. ”What’s happening here?”

He demanded, trying to move only to realize he couldn’t. His hands were glued to the table by some sticky, translucent substance, while his feet were bound tight to the chair.

”What the fuck?! Dylan, do something!”

”I—I can’t...!” Dylan stammered, shaking his head. ”And you... shut up, Marcus! Don’t make a sound or you’ll be next!” His voice was barely above a whisper, but the terror in his eyes said everything.

Before Marcus could speak again, the woman turned around.

Dylan’s mother.

She held a large bowl in one hand and a plate of meat in the other, her expression unnervingly cheerful.

”Food’s ready, kids!” she chirped.

Her voice was warm, but her appearance was anything but. Her eyes were hollow voids, her jet-black hair spilling to the floor and nearly covering her entire face.

Her skin was a sickly, corpse-like pale, and the blood smeared across her apron and limbs became painfully visible in the kitchen’s flickering light.

And still, that cheerful smile never left her face.