Staring at the pages of indecipherable chemical formulas, Bella whispered to Natasha.
"What is this stuff?"
"...It's an anti-aging serum." Natasha had been trying to get her hands on this for a long time—something to preserve her youth. Unfortunately, the one-eyed hardass guarded it with an iron fist. Forget a valued agent; he wouldn't share the formula with his own son.
Natasha was quite proficient in chemistry. She scanned the formulas laid out before her, silently furrowing her brow. These were extraordinarily complex. It would take her a very long time just to understand them, let alone actually synthesize the serum. Many of the required materials could only be extracted through advanced scientific methods, then converted through an intricate series of processes. The time and money involved would be astronomical.
She tucked away the Christmas gift. Bella pocketed the trident prong and told Charlie they were heading out to do some shopping.
Gifts received—now it was time to earn them.
"What do you need us to do?" Bella asked.
The next instant, the world blurred before their eyes. When they opened them again, they were in the sky.
Two reindeer galloped through the air with joyful abandon. Santa sat up front, driving the sleigh, while Bella and Natasha rode in the back. Biting wind struck them head-on.
The seamless teleportation had rattled Bella. Silent, instantaneous—no energy signature, no warning whatsoever. The more she understood about this man's capabilities, the more terrifying he became.
Natasha, on the other hand, seemed unfazed. As an elite operative, she was trained to handle any sudden situation at any time. While Bella was scanning their surroundings, Natasha sat perfectly calm—her tactical undergarment concealed a compact paraglider. Even at this altitude, she'd have some chance of survival.
Bella took several deep breaths. She was fairly sure she had a mild fear of heights. She forced herself to settle down, gripping Natasha's hand. They drew strength from each other.
That was when she looked down at the town below and realized the area seemed familiar. She'd been through here before—driven past it several times, in fact.
"Are we in Washington State?"
"That's right!" Santa seemed completely unaffected by the high-altitude winds. His voice carried as clearly as if they were standing on solid ground. He pointed downward.
"There are two nasty scoundrels down there. They've been impersonating me—using my image to deceive people! Now, the deception part I could let slide. But they've also been eating people! That's going way too far!"
Santa bristled with indignation, his white mustache puffing out as he clenched his right fist.
"So what exactly do you need us to do?" Natasha asked.
Santa's mouth hung open as he stared blankly into space, thinking for an absurdly long time. "...Tie them to a tree and spank them?"
Both Bella and Natasha could tell he was playing dumb on purpose. But neither called him out on it. When you'd reached a level of power where the entire world was your playground, you'd earned the right to mess with a couple of young women.
Never mind Bella's one lifetime of memories—even ten lifetimes stacked together wouldn't match Santa Claus's age. She put on her most gracious smile. Natasha's expression was radiant. Both of them simply smiled and said nothing.
"Actually, we should string them up by their ankles, then tickle the soles of their feet with a feather!"
"Or pour some pepper water down their throats? Ha ha ha ha—"
Santa stroked his chin, cycling through ideas one after another.
Bella and Natasha's response was simple: whatever you say, we agree.
This went on for a teeth-grinding ten minutes.
"Do you see that? That scoundrel is using my appearance to climb into someone's chimney! Absolutely despicable—the lowest of the low!" Santa jabbed a finger toward the distance, seething with outrage.
The sleigh descended to roughly three hundred feet (about 100 m) above the ground. Bella's eyesight was far superior to Natasha's; even in the dark of night, she followed the glow of streetlights toward the house the old man had indicated.
There, she saw a heavyset figure—also dressed as Santa Claus—carrying a blood-red sack, squeezing down a chimney. Moments later, the figure emerged through the front door, the previously empty sack now bulging with the shape of a living person inside it.
Whatever color the sack had originally been was impossible to tell anymore. It was now drenched entirely in blood. The fake Santa's face was mostly hidden beneath his hat; Bella could only make out his mouth and chin.
Malice. A vicious, bloodthirsty aura of pure malice.
Different from Calypso, but similar in nature—and that told Bella everything she needed to know. This was a dark god, still roaming free in the material world.
"He has accomplices? How many?" Bella asked.
The jolly Santa, as if posing for a photo, playfully held up two fingers.
"...Just two?"
Bella studied the figure below, analyzing his strength.
She arrived at a conclusion that surprised even her: this guy was surprisingly weak.
"Have some confidence, young lady! These scoundrels' era has long passed. They're no match for you two. Go get 'em!"
Santa dropped them off from the sleigh, offered a few words of encouragement, and—with absolutely no intention of supervising—waved goodbye with enormous enthusiasm and flew off into the distance.
Just like that, the man had swaggered off without a care in the world.
Bella and Natasha exchanged glances.
"So he's saying... the enemies should be easy to handle?" Natasha looked eager. Since the virus enhancement, she hadn't found a single worthy opponent. Her fists were itching.
Bella wasn't about to jump to conclusions. "Let me observe them up close first."
When it came to combat—especially combat with dark gods—she was cautious. She wasn't about to see one person get kidnapped and go charging in to play hero on a rush of adrenaline. She wasn't that heroic. The person needed saving, yes—but strategy came first.
The small town at night looked no different from any other. Streets and alleys glowed with festive lights. Laughter echoed from every household. Neighbors exchanged warm holiday wishes. Everything seemed peaceful, harmonious.
Bella and Natasha lay concealed in a thicket of bushes, watching the house from earlier.
The fake Santa carried the sack into the basement, apparently planning to save this "meal" for later that night. Then he removed his Santa costume and sat in front of the television like a perfectly ordinary man—watching a football game, chatting with his wife about trivial everyday matters.
Soon, a neighbor dropped by. The middle-aged couple—dark gods in disguise—greeted the visitor with enthusiastic warmth, discussing plans for a bridge game the next day. Everything was normal. Nothing out of place.
"Blood. I can smell it—heavy," Natasha whispered. The virus enhancement had significantly sharpened all five of her senses. "Both of them reek of it."
"Yeah. These two must be the ones... Be careful—they're not human."
A flicker of confusion crossed Natasha's face. "Not human?"
Bella nodded with certainty. "From what I can tell, they seem to be Winter Solstice Gods—deities from the Scandinavian Peninsula. After Christianity rose to dominance, they turned into dark gods."