SSS Awakening: Rebirth of the Strongest Vampire God novel Chapter 21

Chapter 21: Mark?

Damon's heart skipped a beat. He rushed to the bathroom, flipping on the lights. The pale glow illuminated his reflection, and for a moment, he didn't recognize the man staring back at him.

His skin looked too pale. His pupils too sharp. His irises... not fully red, but flecked with crimson, like someone had dripped ink into a glass of water and hadn't stirred it all the way.

"No," he muttered. "That's not possible."

Damon froze. His mind was in a complete mess. First, it was the coming back in time, and now this? No. He was going crazy. He was sure of it. He was going fucking crazy!

"Shit," he whispered. His throat burned. His teeth ached. He wasn't just hungry. He was starving.

And not for food.

How could this be happening? He was just playing a vampire in a freaking game so why was he feeling like this in fucking real life. That was a game and this was the real life, damn it!

He hadn't fully believed it when Bloodreign had told him she had sent him back in time, but now he couldn't ignore it any longer. The proof was right there, staring at his face.

He gripped the edges of the sink, knuckles white, breathing ragged. His reflection stared back with a haunted hunger—half man, half monster. It wasn't just roleplay anymore. This wasn't some immersive side effect of a next-gen gaming rig.

The lines between Earth Online and reality weren't just blurred... they were vanishing.

It was not a distant possibility. It was not a problem for the future. This was happening now. Right now. In real time!

Damon's fingers brushed against his lips again, tracing the sharp canines that hadn't been there before. His mind reeled. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't possible. It shouldn't be possible.

And yet it was happening. The ache in his throat, the way his entire body thrummed with tension and need—it was all too real.

He turned on the tap and splashed cold water over his face, hoping it would shock him back to normalcy. It didn't. The burning hunger remained, coiled deep in his core like a living thing. He could feel it whispering at the edge of his mind. Blood. He needed blood. Not steak, not sugar, not caffeine—blood.

"Goddamn it," he hissed, slamming his fist against the mirror. The glass cracked, webbing out from the impact like a spider's web, and his bleeding knuckles only made the scent worse. He stared at the trickle of crimson on his skin.

His pupils dilated. Like an animal, he licked his own blood in a frenzy, but it did little to help his hunger. His blood was cold, raw, and empty. He needed something warm and nourishing, something full of life.