Whoever designed this office wears sunglasses indoors. That's a judgement I made after spending no more than thirty seconds seated here. Everything is just so overwhelmingly white, from the sheet over the table, the completely plain wallpaper, to the metal making up the chandelier above me, and even the woman across with me was dressed in some all-white uniform, matching her glossy hair. I rub my strained eyes, trying my best to keep up with her while so-lacking in sleep.
"So, Mr. Tertias, um, reading your 'resume' now, I notice you haven't got any experience or training in the field...?"
She's referring, of course, to the document I drafted with my ballpoint pen fifteen minutes ago. I decided to join in on my own examination now, and after reflection, I realize I've been too frantic. There was no reason to be in such a hurry, rushing from place to place like a man on the run, when the only sin I'm guilty of is overeagerness, which hardly counts.
"Oh, no, it says it right there, I got my certification to practice as a mage independently just 3 months ago. It's just that I haven't used it yet, 'cause I was... trying out some more regular stuff," I say, reaching over the desk to stick my finger where I'm pretty sure the third line of my resume is. I reach back, going to my suitcase on my right, adding, "Hey, look, I've got the certificate right here-"
"Ah, no, that won't cut it. Monster hunters need to be combat ready. Sorry, but there's no way that in good conscience, I could throw out your average mage into the field," she says, delivering this as if trying to let me down easy, though I think it has the complete opposite effect, as my mouth is left agape at that total shutdown. Nowadays, I guess even a mage is average? I stop fiddling with my suitcase, and return to being seated straight, for I simply must retort.
"Now, I have to ask, with all due respect, who are you and what kinda qualifications do you have to just dismiss me like that?"
Like a machine programmed only for this one task, forged for this one moment, she raises, no, swings her arm to her mouth, clearing her throat mechanically, before launching out into introduction:
"My name is Irene Set Fisher. I am twenty-five years old. I graduated from Bluedream College with the highest honors awardable to a magus after exemplary achievements during the Black Forest uprising, three years ago. After a two year hiatus during which I 'tried out some more regular stuff', I returned to the world of magic, and was quickly accepted as a Hunter thanks to my combat expertise. I have distinguished myself by hunting and killing twenty-one different kind of beast in the past year alone, and the Association intends to honor my efforts with a badge soon!"
I find myself defeated for the second time in a day, because I'm actually in awe at her accomplishments, even though she's totally boasting and it's definitely totally unprofessional. It's all vague in my head now, but even I remember hearing about the Black Forest from my grandfather. At the time when my biggest challenge was a friend who was way better than me at fighting games, she was in the midst of history being made. "Ah... I guess you are pretty qualified to say all that..."
There's nothing much I can say now, at least. I've been rude, and again, I'm going to run away with my tail between my legs. Though, this time, I've at least got a good reason, seeing as I no longer have any business here. Thinking these kinds of thoughts makes me even more ticked off, and I stand up, my suitcase in hand, ready to go. "You can keep the resume."
As I turn to leave, she continues, as if remembering suddenly to hold back on me, "There's no need to be embarassed, you know. You seem more or less decent, so why not pick up a couple years somewhere practical like Circle-Circle?" This stops me with my hand at the doorknob, and I bite my lip.
I don't think that was a question that was looking for an answer, but I just can't help it. I shrug, and say, "Mages are disgusting to me."
...
That was pretty slick of you, you idiot. Dummy, buffoon. Idiot, I repeat. I went and just handed out a sentiment like that because I wanted to flip some woman, whom I'll never see again if my life goes well, on her head with surprise. I'm brooding on this on my seat on a train back into town, after going all the way to the outskirts for the Eagle's Hand. Am I going to have to go back home so soon? I don't like the thought of that, either... I'm sure there's still something to be done, but if I can't get into an agency, how am I meant to hunt monsters?
Well, the answer to that question's way too obvious: I open an agency of my own. I clutch my suitcase, the key to this plan, close to my chest. Inside this case are all the savings I've accumulated over my life, the bulk of which I obtained in the last three months... granted, it's not a lot. The fruit of all my labor adds up to nine hundred and seventy-four dollars, and a few uncounted coins. I could borrow money from my grandfather, but the shame of that would cremate me on the spot, so I'm going to have to make this work.
Registering an agency with the Association only costs a hundred dollars, and I can get that sorted in no time, but securing a venue... that's the real problem. I'll need to really put in the work to get some good space with what I've got on hand, but worrying about specifics at this point is like asking to fail. I take a deep breath, bracing myself to wrap everything up before I tuck into bed tonight... hopefully...
I stopped at a cafe to use their power outlet to charge my phone. Though I thought some coffee would do wonders, I needed to save every cent, and the looks of the place told me that I'd be set back at least ten dollars if I tried to purchase anything. The joint must've been opened in the past three months, because I've never seen it before, and frankly, I doubt it'll last long. The staff keep giving me weird looks, but I brush them off, powering on my phone. It'd been out of battery for the entire day now, and most of last night... I gulp.
Missed calls from work and my landlord. Work, I can understand, but I'm forced to wonder why my landlord would call me after I was gone just a day. I didn't know we were that friendly, but now's not the time to be touched. I unplug my phone, and excuse myself outdoors, running to the first back alley I see.
I dial in the seven numbers I had drilled into my skull, and wait nervously. After three seconds of dead silence, a cute little tune plays, and I can't help but hum along. As the song seems to reach its end, a jarring voice whispers out, "Close the line," and my brain's jolted, leaving me stumbling against the side of the alleyway. Weaving a brainwashing spell into your service line, no matter how weak it is, is a bit extreme, but it's those kinds of measures that the Association needs to take before it feels safe having something as simple as a phone line. After another small pause, a silky smooth voice echoes out, "Please state your business with the Association today, and you will be redirected to a relevant line." Bringing the phone extra close to my mouth just in case, I manage to get out, "I want to open a hunter's agency, please."
...
After getting instructions and finishing a small background check, I find my way to a building that looks pretty abandoned on the outside, closer to the edge of town. Apparently, the Association wants the cash before the certificate. Grandfather's explained this to me before, but I still don't really understand why on earth something as occult as the Association would be interested in money. I think the value that people en masse assign to it makes it a nice ritual token, but speaking as somebody who once tried all sorts of summoning with a bunch of five-dollar bills, the magical value of it is pretty low... though, maybe I just haven't gotten my hands on enough of it? It's best to stop thinking about this before I get lost in money fantasies.
Right at the door, I get a sudden chill, and I'm rooted in place. "There's something wrong with this," I find myself mumbling aloud. Why am I hesitating now? It's not like I've got time to waste! I've been so meek today for some reason. Let's just get this over with and go check that garage out, okay, Filia?
I walk into the dark, surprisingly humid building, and immediately get to work, setting my briefcase down, and popping it open. I rummage through my stuff for my chalk, and grab five twenty-dollar bills. I quickly draw the described array across the floor, and I slam the bills in the center. Finally, for the finishing touches, I put my finger on the edge, and relax. Prana surges through my body and out my fingers, tracing the lines I drew, and the air begins to vibrate briefly, a bright light emitting from the Association sigil, before it suddenly all disappears with a pop, in its place lying a laminated piece of paper. I pick it up, and bask in its glory. Just like that, I've received a whole host of privileges. I quickly pack my certification into my suitcase, almost positively giddy-
Until, I freeze. In the corner of my vision, I can see a body, cloaked in filth, rising from beneath the ground. My brain registers all this in the split second before sharpened claws fly across my vision, and I throw myself across the floor, crashing and rolling hard, posting up to my backside. Something burns on the side of my head, and it sounds like a leaky faucet's opened. My suit's is spattered with a crimson that's getting thicker by the second, and the culprit is standing tall and motionless, where I was just now.
It's in the way of the door. It turns over to me, looking down with human eyes glinting with disappointment. It takes that long for me to realize that right then, my life was nearly ripped away in an instant. It begins to saunter over to me, still laying on the ground, opening its mouth with a taunt, undoubtedly... how silly. There's no time for that, you foul beast.
Its eyes widen as fire bursts out from my back hand, and with a sneer, it slashes forwards, but I'm faster. Fire rips through the air guided by my hand like a blade, passing through the beast like butter and cutting through the room, instantaneously severing that limb. The superiority etched into its face is burned away, as it grimaces with fear.
Reinforcing this body is as easy as breathing, bounding off the floor with a simple push and rushing forwards for a rapid finishing blow, the monster lunging at me with just one arm, choosing fight over flight. I catch the incoming slash with my shoulder, brushing the pain and the blow aside to aim my other fist through its skull, an accompanying burst of fire melting bone, blasting it across the room straight into a wall, shaking the foundations. I wince momentarily, clutching at my chest. It caught me with something on the way out, and in my moment of hesitation, it switches to flight.
I dart after my prey across the room, aiming to cut it off diagonally, but it quickly leaps down the hatch it came from an instant before I arrive, and I launch a fireball down after it, the searing of flesh and a low groan of pain echoing outwards. I land on the blazing basement level, and I see shrunken legs slipping through an incredibly tight grate. I pour energy into leaping forwards, but instead fall straight ahead, collapsing on my knees, a bit dazed... that first cut was pretty bad.
Panting and coughing, I manage to get back on my shaky feet, clutching my shoulder with my uninjured hand. That's small enough to cauterize, and so is the gash on my chest, but my head is seriously a problem... I climb my way out of the basement, not thinking of anything but getting away, grab my suitcase, and trudge out of the building. The fire is the fire department's problem, now.
I'm forced to sit back down not even twenty meters away, my heart and head pounding in unison. The events flash back through my head, and I can almost, in my semi-lucid state, figure out what just happened, but now is not the time. I need help badly. I feel that distress in the depths of my soul, so please, somebody out there, come help me... I'll just be laying here, falling into sleep.