Everyone died.

  The monster loomed over the bodies. Fearless and powerful, it stood with not a single enemy in sight.

  Gravel and chunks of the city littered the place. The moon shone, witnessing the horrors of the world. The dark wind made it all more ominous. The buildings destroyed, fire blooming, blood on the streets.

  The only person left was me.

  It was me and my golden staff.

  I grunted and forced myself up, determination flaring despite the pain.

  There it was, the monster.

  A monster so big, it resembled a mythical being. A scaled creature with purple–flamed eyes and a beam that decimated the entire land.

  The scaled monster: Mobzilla.

  I held my staff high and flew into the air. I had enough mana left for my ultimate ability. My comrades shouldn’t fear. They shouldn’t worry. They wouldn’t touch Heaven or Hell.

  Because my existence didn’t allow them to.

  I looked at the scaled creature in the eyes. Those purple eyes stared back at me with intent to kill. I took a calm breath, knowing this was humanity’s last chance.

  Knowing I was humanity’s last hope.

  I raised my staff in the air. I channeled all my power into my final move. A golden aura surrounded me. Even at a low point, I felt stronger than ever. And with all my might, I yelled at the top of my lungs.

  “YOU ARE BORN ONCE MORE!”

  For one moment, everything turned gold—the ground, the rubble, the sky, and even the moon. It was the only time the world knew just one color.

  And with that, my comrades revived. They arose from the dead with all previous injuries healed.

  One had a battle shield and an axe. He raised his shield, yelling, “CCHHHAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGG!”

  But then, reality snapped back, breaking the moment.

  ***

  “My controller died,” Sydney said.

  “NO!” Tim yelled. “Jill, that was the best resurrection—especially from you.”

  I wasn’t sure whether to take offense or treat it as a compliment.

  “Whatever,” Roger said, tossing his controller. “Gingerbread competition?”

  “Leave it to this man to talk about food.”

  Roger sneered as though he planned to slam Tim’s head into the wall.

  “Cameron and Owen are in the room. Someone get them,” I said.

  Tim and Roger exchanged looks. “No way,” they said in unison.

  “C’mon, just grab them.”

  “No way,” Tim said. “They’re in the bedroom. You know what goes on there with a man and a woman? Procreation. Reproduction. The bees and the birds.”

  Sydney stepped in. “Yes, yes, we know. They’re in Jill’s room. They’re not going to do it there.”

  Roger shrugged. “The author depleted Owen’s screen time. Maybe procreating on Jill’s bed will send a message.”

  “What message?! What are you guys talking about?”

  Sydney looked at me with a dead face. “They are… doing it.”

  “What does doing it mean?”

  Tim sighed. “Oh, Jill, it’s sad you don’t know basic terms.”

  “There’s no terminology used!”

  ***

  We gathered around the dinner table and split into two teams. One team was Cameron, Owen, and Sydney, while the other was Tim, Roger, and me. We are on opposite ends of the table, staring each other down for the main event.

  “For the record,” Owen said, “we didn’t do anything on anyone's bed.”

  “Save it, Owen. Confess your sins after we defeat you at gingerbread!”

  “I am a chef. I have more creativity with food than you three combined.”

  Roger stepped in. “We’ll see about that.”

  There were six of us, which got me thinking.

  “How are we supposed to judge if there’s an even number of us?”

  We looked around for answers, but nothing came. People muttered ideas, but nothing fit. The only logical option was to bring someone else in. But who would be free on Christmas to join us?

  “Hey, I have an idea,” Tim said with his finger in the air, as though he claimed victory on the land. “We ask a stranger.”

  “We are not kidnapping a stranger.”

  “No, no. We carry the gingerbread houses outside and go to the first person we see. That’s our judge.

  I spoke. “It’s slippery out. We are at risk of falling and breaking the house.”

  “Leave it to Khonshu.”

  “Khonshu?” I asked.

  “The Moon God,” Roger replied straight-faced.

  Tim slapped his face. “It’s sunny out! Moron!”

  ***

  In the end, Tim kidnapped Avery as the judge.

  “You’re lucky that my father and I already did our Christmas lunch. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to leave the house.”

  “Don’t speak,” Roger said quickly. “You are the judge. You shouldn’t be speaking until the very end.”

  “Harsh working conditions,” Avery replied.

  “Alright,” Owen clasped his hands. “We are all in red and green Christmas attire. Sweaters and shirts. Fuzzy pants and socks. Now, before us is our one challenge of the day. To make the best gingerbread house! Avery, give us the count for us to start!”

  “Right… sure. Uh—three—two—one—go!”

  The race was on. We had a total of twenty minutes to create the best gingerbread house.

  Roger and Tim worked on the structure, while I worked on the two ginger people. I accurately decorated the ginger person with a thin layer of white frosting, giving it a simple smile. After that, I gave him small red and green buttons that reached up to his chin.

  Tim wasn’t so happy about that.

  “Hey, Jill, why is there a button on his face?”

  “Uh—It’s tight on his neck?”

  “What? No, it’s too high. Remove that button.”

  “Focus on your house.”

  That’s when he snapped.

  “No! Jill, listen to me. I am not going to lose that lovey–douvy couple and a third-wheeler!” He got right up into my face. “Make it perfect, or don’t make it at all.”

  Self–sabotage was on my mind. Did he seriously think he could get away with getting all up into my face without facing consequences?

  While Tim went back on getting the walls of the house set, I turned to Roger for some ‘help’.

  “Roger, can you open this packet for me?” I handed him a packet of the other ginger person. Little did he know, I had a surprise for him.

  He dropped whatever he was doing and grabbed the packet out of my hand. He used his unnatural arms and ripped the packet open.

  “Roger!” I yelled. “You broke his head!”

  “What?! No, I didn’t touch—”

  Tim looked at him as though he killed a dog. “You did what?!”

  “No, no! I didn’t do anything.” He waved his hands in distress.

  “He did, I said. It’s destroyed. The house won’t be complete without the person.”

  “We have another person,” Roger said in defense.

  “They are a couple! A couple! Now the poor gingerbread man has to spend Christmas without his wife.”

  Avery came over to inspect the noise. He noticed the broken ginger person and shook his head in disappointment.

  “Don’t do it…” Tim said in worry.

  “Owen, Cameron, and Sydney win by default!”

  Tim then tried to tackle Roger.

  ***

  With the contest over, we moved outside. “Snow!” Owen said while stepping outside.

  The snow raised the ground level. My boots sank in with snow getting in them. My socks were going to be drenched by the end of this.

  We played around, making snowmen, having one big free–for–all snowball fight, where I took a shot in the face by Cameron. For some reason, it felt personal.

  After messing around in the snow for what felt like an hour, I collapsed in the front yard. My nose was frosty red, and my ears felt like they were going to fall off. I wore two layers, a thick winter coat, gloves, and a furry hat. Still, the unforgiving cold pierced through like no tomorrow.

  “It’s still snowing,” I said.

  “Christmas is awesome,” Roger said, lying next to me.

  “I feel like I’m sinking,” I said.

  Tim and Owen collapsed beside us as well.

  “Just four outsiders chillin’ in Ionia,” Owen said.

  “Hey, Roger, I’m never going to forgive you for that gingerbread man.”

  “Too bad this chapter isn’t canon,” Roger replied with a smirk.

  I yawned, my eyes facing the sky, as the snow fell ever so slowly.

  “Merry Christmas,” I said softly with a smile.

  “Same thing next year?” Owen asked.

  “Of course,” said Tim. “I need my rematch.”

  “I didn’t break anything.”

  “No one said your name.”

  We laughed with our bodies resting in the snow. The sky was bright, and a ray of sun pierced through the clouds.

  “We didn’t even open presents yet,” Tim said.

  “It doesn’t matter. Spending time with you all is all I want.”

  “Group hug with Jill on the bottom!”

  “What?!”

  Tim jumped into the snow. I laughed as I tried to push him off. He was followed by Owen, who sandwiched Tim.

  “Wait! Roger is next?!”

  “Boys, I’m at the bottom! I weigh the least here!”

  Roger stretched his neck before yelling, “Belly flop!”

  I nearly died.

  But regardless, it was the best Christmas I’ve had all my life.

  Merry Christmas, everyone!