Castiel opened her eyes and found herself in a ruined city that was currently on fire. The streets were devastated, the flames casting an eerie orange glow on collapsed facades. Cars were wrecked and scattered across the roads—some flipped, others reduced to twisted metal gleaming in the heat. Streetlights had been bent low to the ground, either melted or violently snapped, their once-bright lamps now dark husks. Shops were destroyed, with shattered windows and busted-down doors hanging off their hinges, glass glittering on the pavement. Some buildings were falling in on themselves, their structures weakened by the relentless blaze and past destruction, collapsing in slow, guttural creaks. And no matter how hard she tried, she could not sense any living things in her immediate area—not even plants or insects; the silence was oppressive, as though the city itself had been erased.
Then she checked her condition.
She was currently in the body of a young woman that was perhaps in her late teens to early twenties. She was light-skinned, almost pale, and had long white hair with a braid going down the left side of her head. The rest of her hair was wild and sticking out in places, singed lightly at the ends. She was wearing a black jacket with gold trim, buttoned over a white dress that came down just past her hips, red leggings, and black high-heeled boots that came up to her calves.
Castiel checked her health, her expression stoic as she assessed the vessel's injuries with clinical precision. Then she said, "Six broken ribs. Fractured spine. Punctured lung. A serious concussion… and lots of internal bleeding."
Her voice was low and steady, almost detached, though a faint edge of concern touched her tone.
Then she added, "If I hadn't taken over this girl's body when I did, she'd most assuredly be dead right now."
She glanced down at herself, noting the peaceful stillness in the vessel's features. Her voice softened, carrying a faint trace of compassion.
"At least she's asleep while I'm in control, so she isn't feeling any of this."
Castiel's eyes glowed bright blue, divine power radiating outward in shimmering tendrils as she activated her grace. She raised a glowing hand over her chest. A warm light pulsed from her palm, surrounding her vessel. Within seconds, the broken, battered body of Olga Marie—her current vessel—was healed back to perfect health.
Bones realigned. Torn muscle and ruptured organs regenerated. Every trace of damage vanished, leaving not even a scar.
Castiel lowered her hand, her glowing eyes dimming, and marveled quietly. How powerful her healing abilities had become. There was no pride in the thought, only solemn acknowledgment of the strength granted to her.
Then next, she checked to see if her abilities were working.
Her light generation worked with no issues. A ball of soft radiance shimmered to life above her palm with a simple thought.
Her ability to manifest holy energy—no problems there. It surged through her like a quiet hum beneath the skin.
Then finally, she checked her wings.
And was surprised.
Instead of just appearing as part of her vessel's shadow like usual, instead… they sprouted directly from her body.
Large.
Fluffy.
Pure white.
They spread wide behind her, catching the light with a soft, ethereal glow.
She blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the change.
Then she looked up and saw a golden halo floating above.
"Well," she said, her head tilting slightly, her voice as flat and analytical as ever, "that's different."
Then, putting away her wings and halo—retracting them back into her vessel with a sweep of her will—she decided to look around the city for survivors.
Her boots echoed softly against the crumbling pavement as she walked through the abandoned streets. Debris littered the ground. Fires smoldered in the distance. Shadows stretched long between the wreckage of a broken civilization.
She did not find people.
Instead, what she found were several oddly-shaped skeletons, brandishing bone weapons, heading straight for her.
Castiel squared her shoulders, unshaken, her tone dry and resolute.
"Good. I can test how effective my abilities have become since the Lord strengthened me."
Above her palm, Castiel created a ball of light. It pulsed, humming with compressed power. With a flick of her hand, she hurled it into the center of the approaching crowd.
There was a blinding flash—followed by a thunderous boom.
A massive explosion of light engulfed the skeletal horde, disintegrating every one of them in its searing path.
The ground trembled beneath her feet.
Then, placing her hand on her chin, Castiel observed the aftermath, her expression unreadable.
"Perhaps I used too much power in that," she said.
Her eyes scanned the damage—melted pavement, smoke, the unmistakable scent of char and ozone.
"It seems it even melted some of the street," she said, staring down at the crater that was now pooling with bubbling tar from what used to be the pavement.
Then, seeing a few stragglers approaching from the shadows, she calmly lifted her hand again. A smaller ball of light condensed in front of her finger. She pointed toward the nearest skeleton, narrowed her eyes, and fired a narrow beam of pure light.
As soon as it hit, the skeleton disintegrated.
And this time, there was no damage to the environment around it.
Then Castiel nodded her head, pleased by the outcome.
"That's better. In the future, I may be in places where there are still living people. It's best that I learn to control this new power so that I don't cause collateral damage."
Castiel swiftly dealt with the rest—each dispatched with clean precision.
Once the street was quiet again, she took a seat at a table outside what used to be a café. The metal chair creaked under her as she folded her hands, closing her eyes and delving inward.
She sorted through Olga's memories—methodical, thorough, divine perception filtering and categorizing the information .
After she was done, she said, "So. Olga is the leader of the Chaldea Security Organization, whose goal was to prevent humanity's extinction."
Her brow furrowed slightly, the memory playing vividly in her mind.
"But then… during a briefing for their first mission, explosions started going off."
After analyzing Olga's memories, Castiel could almost say for certain it was sabotage.
"But the question is… who?"
She sat back, exhaling slowly, letting the question linger for a moment in the air.
Then she said, "Oh well. I have no choice but to figure that out later."
Rising to her feet once more, she brushed some dust off her coat.
"For now, I should explore and see if anyone else from Chaldea made it here. Worst case… I'll solve this Singularity by myself."
As Castiel continued walking through the room and the burning streets, her footsteps echoed softly against broken stone and ash as she moved with quiet determination, eliminating any remaining skeletons that appeared before her. Each swing of her hand, glowing faintly with divine power, shattered the enemies effortlessly.
Suddenly, she heard a voice crying out to her.
"Director! Over here!"
Looking up, Castiel's borrowed eyes locked onto two girls running toward her through the smoke and embers.
One was a young woman with shoulder-length red hair pulled into a side ponytail. Her sharp orange eyes were filled with relief and concern. She wore a white, long-sleeve shirt fastened shut with three black belts—one across her chest, one just beneath it, and a third across her waist. A black skirt flowed over her legs, paired with black leggings and white, calf-length boots that clicked against the rubble as she ran.
Next to her was a girl dressed in strange black armor—armor that, bafflingly, didn't cover her navel, legs, or shoulders. Black and purple gloves protected her forearms, and she wore high-heeled, thigh-high boots that somehow didn't slow her down. Slung on her back was a massive, almost comically oversized greatshield.
At the sight of them, Castiel tilted her head slightly in silent disbelief. The blue light of her borrowed eyes dimmed a little in dry confusion.
"People dress strangely in this world," was her only thought.
She allowed her grace to recede and returned control to Olga, slipping silently into the background of her mind like a watchful presence.
Olga blinked as she placed a hand to her temple, a sudden fog of confusion settling in her eyes.
"Where... am I?" she murmured groggily.
Then she heard Mash's familiar voice, bright with relief and worry.
"Director! Are you all right?"
Olga turned sharply toward the voice, still clutching her head, and blinked in disbelief.
"Mash? Is that you? What the hell are you wearing?" she asked, eyebrows raised in both confusion and mild horror as she took in Mash's revealing armor.
Mash's cheeks flushed pink as she averted her gaze in embarrassment, shifting awkwardly.
"I... I fused with a Heroic Spirit and woke up like this..." she explained shyly, her tone caught between pride and mortification.
Olga sighed deeply, brushing strands of hair from her face.
"I see..." she muttered, her voice tinged with resignation. She turned her head and spotted the other girl standing beside Mash. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of the Command Seals on the girl's hand.
"I'm guessing this amateur is your Master?"
Ritsuka straightened her posture instantly, trying to look composed under the Director's intense scrutiny.
"Yes, ma'am!" she said firmly, her voice full of determination despite the situation.
Olga exhaled sharply through her nose, folding her arms.
"I guess under the circumstances... you'll do."
She shifted into full Director mode, her voice growing colder and more commanding.
"Mash, contact Chaldea. I need a status report."
From within Olga's mind, Castiel watched the scene unfold in silence. Her consciousness hovered, observing the interactions with a strange sense of detachment. She heard a voice—Romani, they called him.
And for some reason… that man stirred something deep within her. A strange, almost forgotten familiarity. A warmth she couldn't place. It tugged at her, but the answer remained just out of reach.
Once the orders were given and communications ended, Olga, Mash, and Ritsuka began to move. The trio made their way deeper through the ruins of Singularity F. Mash took the lead, her massive shield raised, as she fended off every new wave of skeletal enemies that came for them.
Eventually, they arrived in an area of the city that felt even more disturbing than the rest. The air was heavy—unnaturally still.
As they stepped forward cautiously, they passed several human statues that were eerily lifelike. Each one frozen mid-scream, their faces contorted in horror and soul-rending terror.
Chains were strewn throughout the area, latched to walls, the ground, and lampposts. Many were pulled taut as though something invisible held them back.
Olga slowed her pace, curiosity tugging at her as she reached toward one of the chains.
But just as her fingers brushed near it, a voice echoed sharply in her mind—cold, flat, and eerily familiar.
"Don't. It's dangerous."
She froze. Her hand recoiled immediately. She wasn't sure why, but she trusted that voice. Even if it sounded like her own with less emotion, she believed it.
Before she could process what just happened, an eerie, echoing laugh rang through the air, sending a shiver down her spine.
Then, a dark, sultry voice followed.
"My, my... You have decent instincts, young lady."
All around them, the chains began to rattle and whip violently, retracting back to their source with a chorus of clinks and clangs.
From the shadows emerged a tall, young woman with long, flowing purple hair and piercing violet eyes. Her expression was one of smug amusement as she stepped forward with a predatory grace. Violet robes swirled around her, and in her hand, she carried a wicked-looking scythe.
"I was hoping you'd be easy prey... but oh well. I don't mind working for my kill."
Mash engaged in battle with the unknown servant and for awhile held her own