Hiro woke up before dawn.

  The cabin was quiet. Only the embers crackled softly in the hearth, and the wooden boards creaked under the gusts of wind. He sat up on the bed, rubbed his face with one hand, and yawned.

  Getting up, Hiro poured coffee stones into a mug, added sugar, and placed it over the fire. While the water heated, still half-asleep, he took a step forward—

  —and vanished.

  Cold struck instantly.

  He reappeared high above a frozen lake. His body fell, smashing through the ice with a dull crack, and icy water swallowed him whole.

  A moment later, space folded again.

  Now—heat.

  He was falling straight into the mouth of a volcano. Magma closed around him.

  And again—a jump.

  Hiro stood in the middle of his cabin. Dry. Clean. Fully awake.

  He exhaled calmly.

  That was how he washed his face.

  The coffee was ready.

  Hiro took the mug, walked to the window, and took the first sip. Bitter. Hot. Real.

  Outside, the sky was beginning to gray.

  A calendar hung on the wall. His gaze slid across it—and stopped.

  December 31st.

  Hiro finished the coffee in one go, set the mug down, and stepped forward.

  The world changed.

  He appeared on the outskirts of the city near the Arcanum Academy of Magic.

  The streets were buried in snow. Fluffy caps lay on rooftops, garlands hung from the eaves. Lanterns glowed warmly, reflecting off icy paths.

  The city was noisy.

  But today—differently.

  Laughter. Voices. The clinking of glasses from taverns. The smells of sweets, spices, and hot wine.

  The air truly smelled like Christmas.

  Hiro walked slowly, hands in his pockets. Children ran past with poppers, merchants decorated their stalls, mages argued over whose illumination spell looked better.

  On the square, a large fir tree was being set up, decorated with glowing runes. Someone launched small magical fireworks into the sky—harmless, but bright.

  Hiro stopped.

  For a second.

  Just stood and watched.

  Living people. Ordinary joy. A world that—at least for now—was not in a hurry to die.

  He smiled faintly.

  And walked on, dissolving into the noise of the city.

  Hiro entered the guild.

  The moment the door closed behind him, familiar noise washed over him.

  “Pull it this way, toward me!” Garrett shouted, bracing his shoulder.

  “Don’t yank it, you’ll break it!” Katsu snapped back.

  In the middle of the hall stood a Christmas tree—crooked, tall, and stubbornly refusing to stand straight. Ropes, supports, stools—everything was being used.

  “…Oh, Hiro!” Katsu noticed him first.

  Hiro smirked as he approached.

  “Am I interrupting?”

  “Not at all, brother,” Katsu waved him off. “We’re just… slightly… trying…”

  “That’s it!” Garrett barked. “Let it stand like that!”

  He stepped back, assessed the tree, and seemed to accept its fate.

  Then he walked up to Hiro and placed his hands on his shoulders.

  “Long time no see. Any news?”

  Hiro opened his mouth to answer—

  A scream echoed from outside. Then another. And another.

  The guild door flew open, slamming against the wall.

  A girl in a hooded cloak and simple travel clothes ran inside. She was breathing hard, hair spilling loose.

  Silver-lavender.

  Hiro recognized it instantly.

  “Rosaline?” he blurted out.

  “Hiro…” she swallowed. “There’s trouble. Quickly. To the square!”

  No questions. No explanations.

  Katsu, Garrett, Hiro, and Rosaline all bolted at once, leaving the tree, the ropes, and the almost festive coziness behind.

  Chaos ruled the streets.

  People ran toward them—some screaming, some crying, some silent with empty eyes. Snow crunched underfoot, garlands swayed in sharp gusts of wind.

  The closer they got to the square, the quieter it became.

  Noise gave way to a hollow, heavy silence.

  And then they stepped into the open space.

  The Christmas tree still stood in the center of the square.

  But now, at its top—where a star should have been—

  There was a head.

  A man’s.

  Eyes open. Mouth frozen in a silent scream.

  Blood ran down the branches, staining the needles and dripping slowly onto the snow below.

  Hiro narrowed his eyes.

  “Oh wow,” he said calmly. “I was just here. When did they manage this?”

  Rosaline went pale.

  “I… I don’t know. People said there was wind at first. Very cold. Snowy. And then…” she struggled to breathe, “then there was already a head.”

  She looked at Hiro.

  “Who—or what—do you think did this?”

  Hiro was about to answer.

  But behind them, a female voice rang out—confident, loud, far too calm for the scene.

  “Easy there, little people.”

  Mocking. Completely out of place.

  “Sifona’s already here. No panic. I’ll handle it.”

  Hiro slowly turned around.

  A girl was walking toward the square.

  Fairly tall. Black top. Short shorts—as if the cold didn’t touch her at all. Skin the warm shade of brick. Shoulder-length purple hair, slightly messy.

  Red eyes looked out from under her bangs. Calm. Assessing.

  Small, curved horns the same color as her eyes crowned her head.

  In one hand—a semi-transparent holographic phone, its interface constantly shifting. Gum in her mouth. She blew a bubble. It popped softly.

  She walked past the people without acknowledging them and stopped right in front of the tree.

  Looked up.

  At the head.

  At the blood.

  “Mmm…” she hummed. “So he made it here.”

  She narrowed her eyes slightly.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “Yeah. That’s his work.”

  Hiro stepped forward.

  “And who are you?”

  She finally looked at them. Slowly. As if only now noticing that living beings were nearby.

  “Oh,” she said without much interest. “You’re still here.”

  She dismissed the phone projection, brushed her hair aside, and spread her arms slightly with a faint smirk.

  “Tremble. You are in the presence of a demon princess.”

  Pause.

  “Terrifying and beautiful. Sifona.”

  Katsu and Garrett leaned toward each other, whispering.

  “…Princess?”

  “Of demons…”

  “I haven’t heard of her.”

  Hiro snorted.

  “So you’re the king’s daughter?”

  Sifona shot him a quick glance.

  “Correct,” she said. “Sharp mind.”

  “Just know your old man,” Hiro replied calmly. “So—why are you here?”

  For a second, Sifona froze, not immediately processing what he said. Then her eyebrow slowly rose.

  “You? A mortal—wait, what…”

  She looked back at the tree.

  “One demon escaped custody. Type—Krampus.”

  A nervous murmur rippled across the square.

  “On top of that,” she continued, “he stole a page from the Book of Prohibition.”

  Her gaze hardened slightly.

  “I followed the trail. And caught up to him.”

  Rosaline stepped closer.

  “So… you’ll help get rid of him?”

  Without turning, Sifona lifted a hand and casually fixed her hair.

  “Yeah,” she said. “That’s literally my job.”

  She turned halfway toward them, measuring them with her eyes.

  “But,” she added lazily, “don’t get in my way.”

  Sifona silently studied the Christmas tree.

  The blood.

  The head.

  The cuts.

  The angle at which it had been impaled.

  She didn’t touch anything—only looked, as if reading something hidden from ordinary sight.

  At that moment, Hiro let out a quiet snort.

  His pupils widened, then his eyes were completely flooded with pink light—not a flash, but a steady, dense glow, as if he had simply switched his vision on.

  The world changed.

  The square became layered.

  Threads of mana stretched over reality itself—traces of emotions, magic, distortions.

  And among them—one.

  Brown.

  Dense.

  Torn.

  Alive.

  “Follow me,” Hiro said shortly.

  And walked.

  Katsu, Garrett, and Rosaline didn’t even exchange glances—just turned and followed.

  “Hey!” Sifona snapped, spinning around. “Where do you think you’re going?!”

  She glanced at the tree once more, then noticed the group already leaving and clicked her tongue in irritation.

  “Hey, wait up!”

  The trail led out of the city.

  Past the last houses, through snow-covered paths, toward a dark cliff looming over the plain.

  Sifona caught up and walked beside them, typing something into her holographic phone as she went.

  “And you just trust him like that?” she said. “He could be heading in a random direction, and meanwhile the Krampus—”

  “Is killing people?” Garrett cut in with a grin.

  “Yes.”

  “If he were going the wrong way,” Katsu added, “we’d already be dead.”

  Sifona snorted.

  “Overconfidence is a bad trait.”

  “We call it experience,” Garrett shrugged.

  She didn’t reply.

  The cliff was split by a dark, gaping cave mouth.

  “There?” Rosaline asked quietly.

  Hiro nodded.

  Inside was pitch darkness.

  Cold.

  Mute.

  Katsu and Garrett drew their torches at the same time. Hiro snapped his fingers—an orb of fire flared in his palm, and he lit the wicks one by one.

  Rosaline formed a sigil, and a glowing sphere appeared beside her, slowly drifting forward and illuminating the stone walls.

  Sifona walked last, eyes on her phone, lazily blowing a bubble of gum.

  “This type of demon,” she said casually, “can move through shadows, so be—”

  “Behind us!” Katsu shouted.

  He spun instantly.

  Behind Sifona, directly within the wall of darkness, stood a silhouette.

  A massive goat on two hooves.

  A human-like torso—elongated.

  Clawed hands.

  A horned head, the horns twisted inward as if breaking into themselves.

  Katsu didn’t hesitate.

  The sword left its sheath with a dry ring and sliced through the air.

  The strike was precise.

  But not lethal.

  The blade sank into flesh—and stuck, as if hitting something viscous. The demon jerked, let out a dull, almost mocking wheeze—and collapsed into shadow.

  Gone.

  Black droplets of blood stained the stone.

  “Shit…” Katsu breathed.

  Deeper in the cave, space warped.

  The air folded as if clenched into a fist, and a portal opened right in front of them—dark, its edges tearing with shadows.

  “Move!” Sifona shouted. “Inside!”

  Hiro didn’t hesitate.

  Rosaline followed.

  They stepped into the portal, and the world lurched.

  “Wait!” Sifona spun and thrust her arm in front of Katsu and Garrett. “You stay here.”

  “What?!” Garrett protested.

  “He might come back,” she said sharply. “Someone has to guard the exit.”

  Without giving them time to respond, Sifona stepped back—and vanished into the portal after Hiro and Rosaline.

  Darkness closed in.

  The cave fell silent once more.

  When Hiro emerged from the portal, the first thing he saw was a mansion.

  It stood alone. The style was strange—not Arcanum, not royal, and definitely not demonic.

  Snowdrifts lay all around. In the distance, through the frosty haze, the towers of the Magic Academy were visible.

  “Whoa…” Rosaline stepped out of the portal and looked around. “Interesting building. I’ve never seen this style before.” She squinted toward the horizon. “The Academy… I wonder which direction we are from it.”

  Sifona appeared next.

  The portal snapped shut behind her, as if it had never existed.

  The demon princess quickly scanned the area, then looked up at the sky.

  “It’ll be dark soon,” she said. “We need to find him before nightfall.” She turned to Hiro. “In the dark, he’s untouchable. His speed increases severalfold. Any ideas?”

  At that moment, the lights inside the mansion went out.

  The windows, faintly glowing just a second ago, turned black.

  “I have one,” Hiro said.

  And walked toward the door first.

  Inside, it was quiet.

  Too quiet.

  Two floors.

  A basement.

  A faint smell of dust, dampness—and something sweet. Unpleasant.

  They exchanged looks.

  “We split up,” Hiro said.

  Sifona nodded. “First floor is mine.”

  Rosaline tightened her grip on her sword. “I’ll check the second.”

  Hiro turned silently toward the stairs leading down.

  The basement greeted him with cold.

  Stone steps led into a spacious chamber. To the left—a bathhouse: empty, clean, the water in the basin long since cooled. To the right—another door.

  Hiro’s eyes glowed pink; darkness was merely a formality to him.

  He stepped inside.

  A squeak.

  Or a rustle.

  Something fast. Small.

  A rat burst out of the shadows.

  But not an ordinary one.

  Its body was warped—crystals grew from its flesh, sharp and cloudy, as if sprouting from within.

  Hiro caught it mid-leap.

  Half a meter from his face.

  He clenched his hand.

  Crunch.

  The crystals shattered, flesh collapsed, and a bloody, shapeless mass hit the floor.

  And at that moment, a scream rang out from above.

  Rosaline.

  Hiro didn’t think—he turned and sprinted upward, leaping over steps.

  Earlier. First floor.

  Sifona walked calmly.

  A living room with a fireplace.

  A kitchen.

  A room with a long rectangular wooden table.

  An ordinary house.

  Too ordinary.

  She pulled out her holographic phone, lazily blowing a gum bubble, and took several pictures.

  Then Rosaline screamed.

  The bubble popped.

  Sifona snapped her head up.

  “Fuck,” she said, and bolted up the stairs.

  Earlier. Second floor.

  Rosaline moved slowly down the corridor, careful not to make a sound.

  One of the room doors was ajar.

  She nudged it open with her shoulder and peeked inside.

  The room was small. Neat.

  Toys lined the shelves—rag dolls, wooden animals, a music box. Faded drawings on the walls. Ribbons. Children’s trinkets.

  “…A girl’s room,” Rosaline whispered.

  Breathing sounded behind her.

  Warm. Too close.

  She didn’t turn around.

  Her sword lashed backward in a sharp, practiced swing.

  Empty.

  The blade cut the air, meeting no resistance.

  “Sweetheart?..” a voice came from the darkness of the house.

  Rosaline froze.

  That voice…

  “Mo… mom…” slipped from her lips.

  The voice continued, now distorted, as if passing through cracked glass. Echoes crawled along the walls.

  “DaUgHtEr…”

  “I’vE mIsSeD yOu sO mUcH…”

  Rosaline gripped her sword with both hands.

  “I…” her voice trembled. “I missed you too, Mom…”

  A silhouette appeared in the hallway.

  Large. Wrong.

  A goat stood on two hooves. A stretched, angular body. Clawed hands scraping the floor.

  Its head slowly turned.

  A full three hundred and sixty degrees.

  Its eyes locked onto her.

  “WHY—”

  “DID—”

  “YOU—”

  “FORGET—”

  “ME?!”

  The voice was no longer human. It tore at the ears, mixing scream, sobbing, and rage.

  Rosaline backed away, pressing her back to the wall. Evening light from the window cut the room into slanted bands.

  She screamed.

  The Krampus twitched.

  Something changed.

  He snapped his head to the left.

  Several meters away stood Hiro.

  His arm extended. Lightning ran along his fingers, crackling and sparking. Pink light from his eyes sliced through the darkness.

  The demon’s smile vanished.

  “Oh,” he managed.

  The discharge hit.

  Not a point—

  A wave.

  Electricity roared, burst outward, tore through the house wall, and hurled the Krampus away along with stone and planks.

  The demon’s body slammed into a snowdrift.

  He gasped for breath. Every muscle burned with pain.

  The sun was sinking.

  Shadows stretched longer.

  The Krampus grinned, feeling night approach.

  He tried to dissolve. To merge with the shadow of a tree.

  Too late.

  His arms jerked back.

  Magical shackles snapped shut around his wrists—red, pulsing, burning.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Sifona said.

  She stood in the broken wall, one foot on a stone fragment, phone already gone, her gaze cold and focused.

  “You’re mine.”

  Behind her, Hiro knelt beside Rosaline, helping her steady herself. She was still shaking—but alive.

  The Krampus hissed, understanding.

  He had lost.

  Several minutes passed.

  Snow settled softly, muffling sound. The Krampus lay immobilized, the shackles still pulsing red.

  Sifona stood a little aside, scrolling through something on her holographic phone. The screen unfolded in layers, lines of data sliding past.

  Hiro looked around.

  The mansion. Snowdrifts. In the distance—silhouettes of buildings, familiar… yet foreign.

  “Strange place,” he said. “Where are we?”

  Sifona smirked without looking up.

  “Sharp as ever. Yeah—this isn’t our universe.”

  She snapped her fingers, enlarging the projection.

  “That bastard stole a page from the Book of Prohibition. A spell for traveling between metaverses. The world’s similar to yours—but with nuances.”

  She finally looked at Hiro.

  “There are seven strongest beings here. They call themselves gods. Each of an aspect. And the universe itself…” she traced a cube in the air, “is shaped like one. Other worlds on its sides.”

  Hiro narrowed his eyes.

  “No Chaos.”

  Sifona popped her gum.

  “Yup. No Chaos here. Just mana. So we’d better finish this fast. If interdimensional police show up—I’m not in the mood to chat today.”

  Rosaline looked at the Krampus.

  “What will you do with him?”

  Sifona sighed, as if asked the most boring question imaginable.

  “Pass judgment.”

  She scrolled quickly.

  “Theft of a sacred relic. Mass murder. Escape from custody. Illegal entry into a foreign universe…”

  She waved her hand.

  “Ah, to hell with it.”

  The phone expanded, transforming. She pulled a sword from the projection.

  The blade looked like a giant claw—or the tooth of an ancient beast. Matte black, with dark crimson veins.

  The Krampus didn’t even have time to scream.

  One strike.

  The head fell into the snow. The body went limp.

  Silence fell again.

  Minutes later, the mansion wall looked almost new. Only a few cracks hinted at what had happened.

  “So,” Sifona said, wiping the blade and turning it back into a phone, “we’re not leaving without a gift, right?”

  Hiro smirked.

  He waved his hand.

  Snow surged. Crystallized. Took shape.

  Three snow statues rose before the mansion.

  Sifona—with a daring smirk.

  Rosaline—calm, with a gentle gaze.

  And Hiro himself.

  A sign appeared beside them:

  “Merry Christmas from Becoming the God of the Void”

  Sifona looked at it and snorted.

  “Pretentious,” she said. “I like it.”

  She typed quickly on her phone.

  A holographic portal opened in the air—unstable, shimmering.

  Hiro, Rosaline, and Sifona stepped inside.

  The portal closed.

  And the snow kept falling.

  The square was almost empty. Streetlights cast a soft yellow glow over the snow, garlands flickered as if nothing had happened. Any traces of blood had long been buried.

  Sifona stopped at the edge of the square.

  “Alright, guys,” she said, shoving her hands into her pockets. “This is where I leave you.”

  She turned and walked away. The snowfall thickened, the blizzard grew denser, and after a few steps her silhouette dissolved into the white veil, as if it had never been there at all.

  Katsu stretched and yawned.

  “Well…” he said. “Guess it’s time for us too.”

  Garrett clapped Hiro on the shoulder.

  “Take care of yourself. And…” he nodded toward the storm, “…next time, maybe without demon princesses, yeah?”

  They laughed—briefly, sincerely—and headed off in the opposite direction, their footsteps quickly swallowed by the snow.

  Hiro was left with Rosalin.

  They walked side by side, unhurried. The snow crunched beneath their feet, their breath rising in white clouds.

  Hiro looked ahead, but his thoughts drifted.

  Did that rat have children?

  He frowned.

  Though… why am I even thinking about that.

  Rosalin walked beside him, hands pressed to her chest, smiling—simply because the night was calm.