I'd always had a pretty romanticized idea of what it'd feel like to be at death's door.

Whenever I thought about it, I'd reach the conclusion that it'd most likely be a quiet, solemn affair; the world fading from view as time slowed to a crawl, thoughts of whatever business I had left unfinished filling my head as my life flashed before my eyes. Perhaps I would utter a desperate plea or two to God or whatever higher beings there were, asking for another chance.

Then those thoughts would be extinguished one by one as my heart started to beat slower and slower, the fist-sized organ desperately trying to delay the inevitable. And then after two minutes, there would be nothing left of me.

I was partially right. I should be owed some credit for that much. Time seemed to go at a snail's pace and I mentally went through a mantra of desperate statements about not wanting to die just yet.

Of course, I was mistaken about everything else. It wasn't quiet, since I screamed and bawled so hard I was hurting my throat and couldn't breathe properly. I sure as hell wasn't thinking about my life and regrets, because I was in so much pain that I couldn't think about anything else. And the thing about my consciousness fading away? That wasn't happening either. Being fully conscious as I slowly went blind from shock was terrifying, even if it was the second time something like that had happened to me. Most likely because of all the other things lumped on top of it.

I let out an audible sigh, massaging my temples. That was not a pleasant experience.

The First Singularity had been resolved. But all in all, I wasn't pleased with the way it ended; with me being sent to the sickbay as I bled out. It was a disaster, plain and simple.

The second I arrived at my room after getting discharged by Dr. Roman, I just jumped onto my bed and tried to take a nap, but I stayed awake despite my wishes.

I dejectedly raised my left hand to stare at the red markings on its back: an abstract pattern that looked somewhat like an eye. After a while of contemplating, I let it fall and plop down on the bed.

I nearly died.

It was kind of hard to process that. The experience was far less traumatic than I expected, but it was by no means something that I wanted a repeat of. Sadly, with the state of affairs being as it was, it was pretty much a certainty that I would have to put my life on the line again.

With all the Masters as badly wounded as they were, it wasn't like I had a say in that. Then again, I chose to come to this godforsaken place. The alternative was death, but the decision was mine.

My thoughts drifted back to how I found myself in this situation.

The details of how I found myself in an unfamiliar place were, for the most part, unimportant. More than that, it could be said that there wasn't much point in speaking about them at length because there really wasn't much to be said.

It could be summed up with a bland, boring description of my day, with a witty comment or two, the fact that I went out for groceries, a blink of my eyes, and then poof, I was somewhere else. A city, still in my country from what I could see from the nearby advertisements but nowhere I could recognize.

That was all that could be said of that. What followed, however, was at least a little bit more interesting.

The whole thing creeped me out, but after asking around for directions I managed to calm down. Sure, nothing like this had ever happened to me before, but I could be at ease, knowing that I could just go back home. I had enough money to take the nearby subway and then hail a cab. After that, everything would be fine.

As I passed the turnstiles, I thought about what to do. The best course of action, I reckoned, was to tell my family about the strange experience and maybe get myself checked at a hospital, in case there was something wrong with my head. After that, everything would be just fine.

Letting out a yawn as I waited for the train, I walked down the platform while checking the bulletin boards to see if there was anything interesting. Like always, I found nothing of import: english courses, tarot and mysticism classes, political adverts and the occasional piece of graffiti. Business as usual. Everything was, and would be, fine.

As I approached the last one, however, I saw an emblem that I didn't instantly recognize, yet which seemed familiar to me. Out of curiosity, I decided to check it out despite hearing the train approach.

I got a good look at it and raised an eyebrow at the moon-like symbol surrounded by a laurel wreath. I dismissed the usage of the now-identified crest as mere plagiarism, but that soon changed as I continued to examine it.

The train came, opened its doors, stood still for ten seconds or so, closed them and left shortly after. I was the only person in the platform and it stayed that way for a while.

It was a recruitment flyer for the Chaldea Security Organization.

A term instantly came to mind – The Incineration of the Human Order. When it did so, I realized nothing would be fine.

Instantly, I took a photo of the number printed on it. I didn't dial it until half an hour later, when I was sure my nervousness and dread wouldn't show in my voice.

A chime rang over the intercom and derailed my train of thought.

"Alphonse Newman, please report to the Director's office," Roman spoke with a tired voice, no doubt because of all the stuff he had been lumped with.

I sighed and took a deep breath, then released it as a yawn while stretching, hearing my muscles and bones give a satisfying crack. Grabbing my khaki-green coat, I then headed out of my room.

To be entirely honest, I seriously regretted joining Chaldea. If I had just gone back home, then none of this would have been my business. Getting a faceful of a billion rays of light, each one equal to Excalibur in strength, tends to leave people quite indisposed to work. There were no guarantees that it would have been a painless death, but it would have been a quick one.

But of course, I was afraid of dying. And people generally stay away from things that kill them; so it was only natural that I would do what I could to get to the only place where I might be able to survive the coming apocalypse.

When I called, I asked about the requirements for joining up and the place where I would be handing over any necessary documents. The man who replied answered all of my questions cheerfully, saying that I would just need to show a currently valid ID, run through some tests, and get an interview over at their offices. It was "just a summer internship", like the flyer said, so there wouldn't be a need for too many formalities.

Under normal circumstances, I would have scoffed at how suspicious the whole thing was, but I just abandoned common sense and rushed over to see if I could land the job.

The testing was...mundane. Psych evaluation, questions about my reasons for joining, doping tests...it was all fairly normal, so much so that I was actually worried I was somehow wrong.

That all changed when I was commanded by the interviewer to go to sleep and I began to drift into unconsciousness. As I struggled to stay awake, he haughtily muttered something I couldn't quite hear.

I never thought I would feel glad to be subdued and mocked by someone.

Just before I delved too deep into memory lane, something caught my attention. A familiar mop of pink hair.

"Ah, Master." Mash stopped on her tracks and met my gaze meekly, seemingly unsure of what to say.

"'Sup, Mashu?" I called out to her with the affectionate nickname I took to using, all without breaking stride. "Heading towards the sickbay?"

A light blush colored her cheeks. "Umm...yes. Doctor Roman asked me to fetch some medical supplies."

"Reeeeally?" I asked with a teasing edge to my voice. "Just that? You're not going there for...any other reason?"

As the girl turned her face away from me in embarrassment, I chuckled.

"Now, now! It's not like it's a bad thing to visit a friend while they're in the hospital," I said while ruffling her hair a bit. "Matter of fact is, that's actually pretty nice of you. Having someone to talk to is always a good thing, Mashu. Unless you have video games or a book or anything to amuse yourself while bedridden, you'll be bored out of your skull!"

She nodded in agreement, but a small frown marred her face. The reason why she did began to crawl to the forefront of my mind, but I quickly quashed those thoughts by speaking up again.

"Anywho. Going to the Director's office right now. Any idea why? 'Cuz I'm pretty sure there's no reason for it."

The pinkette thought about it for a second before raising a finger. "Did you file in all the post-mission reports and documents?"

I grimaced in disgust. "What's the point in that, anyways?" I grumbled quietly and gave a defeated sigh. "No. I didn't."

"Well...it's quite important to keep track of what happened in each Singularity," Mash pointed out while she fidgeted a little bit. "We should follow protocol at all times."

"And I still say there's no point in doing useless paperwork," I replied while pinching my nose. "Everyone knows what happened. And where are those reports going anyways? The UN and the Mage's Association?"

"Master, they might be gone now, but once we resolve the Singularities we will need to hand them over," the girl scolded me lightly

I let out an exasperated grunt, then breathed in through clenched teeth. "Fffffffffine, that's a fair point." I hung my head in defeat. "I don't get why I need to get bogged down with this, though. I can't really write a thorough report to save my life. I'd probably end up handing over a piece of paper with less than five hundred words on it. I wasn't supposed to be a Master in the first place, damn it!"

I saw Mash visibly flinch at my last words.

"Ah, damn...uh…"

I was left speechless. I wasn't being entirely serious about that, but I couldn't quite retract my statement or think of a way to appease Mash since I didn't know just what she found troubling about it.

I felt like a complete idiot.

The pinkette looked down with a miserable expression as she stopped walking. She opened her mouth to say something, but she didn't to externalize it.

"Erm...sorry." I scratched the back of my head while thinking of a way to get her to stop making that face.

"No. I should be the one apologizing," she affirmed with a dour air. "I wasn't fast enough, and because of that—"

"Stop. That wasn't your fault," I cut her off, a bit too strongly for my tastes. "You were caught off guard and even if you hadn't been, I was the one who messed up."

"But I—!"

"Mash, I had it coming." She tried to protest at my words but I didn't let her. "If I had just kept my mouth shut, he wouldn't have attacked me. I pissed him off and…"

I frowned at the memory of the demonic mage piercing through me. Blood pouring out of my body as the overpowering sensation of unrestrained spite was being forcibly pumped into my brain.

"This was my fault. Period." My voice shook a bit at my own words. "I messed up and decided to learn from it. I'm taking everything seriously now."

She seemed to ignore my words in favor of blaming herself for my own idiotic mistake, but off in the distance I managed to spot the perfect excuse to divert her from that line of thought.

"C'mon, Mashu." I patted her shoulder and pointed at the door to the sickbay. "Chin up and smile. We're here already. You don't want to meet your 'Senpai' with a sad-looking face, right?"

My attempt at deflection was incredibly transparent, but even though the girl seemed to realize what I was doing, she relented and tried her best to wipe off her pained expression.

I bid goodbye to her, hearing a loud, chipper voice as the door to the sickbay opened. When I was left alone, I let out a loud sigh. She was seriously lacking in confidence, but I was sure that by the time the Third Singularity rolled around she would probably be as confident and reliable as she truly was.

As for myself, I could only hope I could deal with whatever came until I could get back to my actual job, demeaning as it was.

Eventually, I reached the Director's office. I took a deep breath and sighed, sliding my cardkey on the scanner next to the door. Nothing happened for a few seconds, until I was granted access.

And like that, I was left face to face with a white-haired woman. She scowled at me. Her gaze was incredibly intense, but it did little more than make me feel annoyance and a certain sense of resignation at what was to come.

After getting a lengthy dressing down from Olga which I only paid a token amount of attention to, she forced me to sit on an uncomfortable metal chair in the corner: I wouldn't leave until I handed over a report and she said it was good enough.

I shook my head, looking at the screen of the tiny computer she handed over. Breathing in once, I started typing away quietly.