My wife is a vampire.

Within the confines of a dimly lit ancient castle, countless figures clad in black cloaks stood with their arms crossed, encircling a colossal crucifix at the center. They chanted in unison, surrounded by a veil of dark power that exuded an intense chill, yet none among them trembled. Not a trace of vapor escaped their breaths, and their cold, pale faces betrayed no emotion. "Esteemed Third-generation Vampire, Lady Bloody Mary, the Matriarch of the Setite Clan, we beseech your favor. Awaken from your slumber and shake the world with your immense power. Let those traitors who have allied with humans face their just desserts. As a Fourth-generation Vampire, an Elder of the Setite Clan, and a disciple personally groomed by you, Pandragon, I offer you the 'Philosopher's Stone' and a hundred souls as a tribute, celebrating your rebirth." Pandragon retrieved a small wooden box, which, after intricate unlocking rituals, revealed a ruby the size of a hen's egg. Carrying it reverently, he traversed a vast magical array to stand beneath the colossal crucifix at the heart of the hall. With palms upturned, he offered the ruby, praying for Bloody Mary's acceptance. Meanwhile, a group of hooded figures herded a hundred naked men and women, young and old, into the chamber. Shackled and shivering in the frigid atmosphere, their breaths clouded with mist—a telltale sign of their humanity, unlike the cloaked ones who, once human, now belonged solely to the vampiric realm as members of the Setite Clan. The ruby in Pandragon's hands began to rise, defying gravity, until it hovered at the center of the crucifix. It seemed to crack like an egg about to hatch, the fissures widening as flakes peeled away, revealing a pulsing, sanguine liquid suspended in midair. The crimson fluid slowly made its way towards the crucifix, prompting Pandragon's triumphant cry, "The Matriarch has accepted! The Setite Clan will soon awaken a Third-generation Vampire. Prepare for the ceremony!" Instantly, all the Setites present punctured their right wrists with sharp teeth, dripping their blood into the colossal magical array beneath the crucifix. The array glowed with vivid scarlet, imbuing the ancient hall with a deathly vitality, growing ever more eerie and frigid. Suddenly, the high windows shattered, and under the crimson moonlight, a figure emerged, wielding a colossal, blood-red scythe that cleaved the moonlight in two. Vampiric eyes pierced the darkness, revealing a human—his heartbeat audible, his scent alluring, his pulsating heart and blood vessels visible to their keen senses. "Audacious human, daring to disrupt our sacred rite. Eliminate him." Without hesitation, a vampire flew straight at the intruder, grinning grotesquely, fangs and claws bared. But in a blur of red, the human seized the vampire's head, its body plummeting lifeless to the ground. The strike was so swift, the sacrificed vampire barely felt a thing. The enormous blood-red scythe glowed even more sinisterly beneath the moonlight, pulsing like it had a breath, writhing as if filled with blood. The fallen body lay devoid of any trace of blood, as if drained completely. Even the severed head in the figure's grasp had not spilled a single drop from its height. Countless tiny veins seemed to emerge from the scythe's blade, only to retract upon leaving the vampire's body. All the vampires were stunned, disbelieving that a mere human could slay a vampire with a single strike—an impossibility. Humans were fragile, useless, mere sustenance. It took at least ten trained humans to defeat a single vampire, even in overwhelming numbers. This couldn't be a human; it was unthinkable. Pandragon stared in shock at the colossal blood-red scythe, his pupils dilating. "'Constantine'? A mere human dares to wield a vampire's holy artifact." "Am I too late?" The figure glanced downwards, where a mass of blood hovered slowly towards the center of the colossal crucifix, its progress excruciatingly slow. The figure smiled. "Good. Any later, and that monster would have risen." Charging straight for the crucifix, the figure swung 'Constantine' from the top, hacking downwards. Midway through the strike, a desiccated hand shot out, grasping the scythe's blade. Instantly, the crucifix shattered, revealing a mummy-like figure brandishing a blood-stained scythe. The other human struggled to cut, but to no avail. The mummy slowly opened its eyes, scrutinizing the blood-red scythe. Suddenly, it glared furiously at the human opposite—short hair, elongated face, dressed like a priest. He was human, undeniably so. As a Third-generation vampire, no matter how weakened, she would never mistake a human for anything else. Her fangs bared, her crimson eyes blazing with rage, her parched throat unable to utter a sound. The mummy opened its mouth, sucking the 'Philosopher's Stone' into its belly, instantly gaining strength. Its body gradually regained fullness, though slowly. Now able to speak, it demanded, "'Constantine'? Are you Judas? Tell me, how did you become human again?" "I was born human." With a swift kick to the mummy's face, followed by another clamping its neck, the human heard the sound of dry wood snapping as the mummy's head twisted around. Kicking the mummy's chest, the human flipped backwards with 'Constantine', landing gracefully. Pandragon watched in disbelief as the mummy collapsed limply, like a deflated balloon. Rushing towards it, he cried out, "Matriarch, are you alright?" Picking up Bloody Mary's lifeless form, unsure of which side was front or back, Pandragon pressed his still-bleeding wrist to her mouth, hoping for her to feed her. "Kill him! He wields 'Constantine'! Attack together!"