Chapter 1: To Heed a Mother

Samuel Bronnwyn. An Irish name that's graced the blistering wasteland for the last five days of his
tramping journey. The always-cheery sun shone bright with a wide smile as Sam's undead but not frail
steed galloped non-stop atop the burning sands on the way to the most esteemed Meister academy in
his side of the world.

Sam maintains his breathing as he whips on the undead horse's reins as his mind zips to his mother's
lecturing nuggets of wisdom. 'Remember, dearie. DWMA is where my friends, so show off your
handsomeness a bit. Got it?' He could just picture her innocent grin lingering in his mind.

"Tch." A scoff grinds out Sam's mouth before he pulls out a picture of him and his mother. "just stay
dead, won't ya?" He curses under his breath before he tucks the picture away and hastens his horse's
galloping pace. Sam's mother literally came spirited to her only son just for him to be like her.

Like he needed to be reminded of that.

Sam now held resentment, now that he was reminded why he was even here. His chest ached and was
filled with fire. After a moment, he holds a palm against his wrapped face as he held back his stingy
lunch. Then, his undead horse whinnied as Sam stares down at him. Its gallops slowed to clops and to
trots.

Not even in the mood to take it out on the horse, he tables it and looks around for anything not desert
to rest at. A couple of clops later and the horse suddenly stops. His head wobbles from it and he glares
onto his horse.

"What now, Vane?" Sam barks down at his steed, Vane. A chuff escapes it before he lowers his head to
the ground. He glances down to see a stranger, sunken into the sands. "Fucking. HELL!" Sam curses,
getting off the horse and rushes to aid the stranger.

Pulling the stranger up by the collar, Sam immediately ascertains that the stranger was a woman. He can
tell because he saw how deep of a cleavage the sands were unveiling to him. Averting his eyes in a
panicked fluster, Sam drags her out of the sands and supports her weight by arm.

Checking if she had a heartbeat, Sam lays his ear by her chest and listens through for it. It was slow and
faint. He had to wake her up. "Oi. Wake up." Sam demanded at her, fanning air at her face. A nudge to
the arm and she started to breath.

Her mouth and nostrils quivered for life as her body trembled by his arm. Sam heard her weak voice
mumbling something and he lowers his head to listen.

"W... wat...r...”

Immediately, Sam placed her head back softly to the sands and walks over to his things. Opening his bag
strapped to his horse's bossom, he pulls out his water bag and steps to the woman. Her head placed on
Sam's legs, he holds her chin and parts her lips open and streams the water through.

She thirstily gulped the water, some dripped to her from her lips as she took it all. Then, Sam pulls the
water away from her. Letting her gasp for air. With her hastened breath, her bodily functions return to
her as she sat on her arms.
Sam rubbed her back to calm her down. It worked as her body stopped trembling and her breathing
started to slow down. Sam worriedly looks down to her and asks through her husky breathing.

"You alright, missy?" Sam asked as nervously with a hand on her back. Grasping her lungs in her chest,
the stranger looks up to meet his eyes with her purple irises.

Sam's face muscles harden at the sight.

"Thanks for the water." She says as she stands on her own booted feet. Undoing the scarf on her head
and letting her midnight bluenette hair loose. Its tips reached to her shoulders and slumped down her
neck as she ruffles the sand off her bangs.

She had a refined face that thinly covered her chin, her drifter's clothes were covered with sand identical
to Sam's garb.

Feeling ticked off by just staring at her, Sam stands up on the sands and tends to reorganizing his
belongings. But his thoughts never lingered away from her. “The hell you got yer head in the sand as you
were?”

Before she answered his question, her eyes flutter again taking in the sting of the landscape before her.
Sam looks at her as if she’s dazed, perking an eyebrow at her before her eyes landed back on him.
Unprecedented, she waded over to him in heavy breath.

Before Sam can even speak, still holding his water sack, the stranger snatches it away and drinks the
rest. Sam’s horse whinnies a complaint as the stranger drank their water.

“… Help yourself then.” Sam said in a gave-up sigh, going back to reorganizing his things.

“… What day is it?” She spoke out of the silence, averting Sam’s attention to her.

“What?” Sam asked, finding her question preposterous.

The stranger inches her face closer to Sam. “What day is it?” Urgency seemed to have irked her, he
picked up from her.

Sam’s eye ticks at how close she was with her peering captivating eyes. Sam mutters before he
remembers. “August 10.”

From his answer, Sam grows shock as it elicited a gasp and a shocked face from her. But before he could
even retort, “AAAHHH!” She lets out a scream which ringed in Sam’s ears. He covers them before his
face is plastered with a glare as gripped on his ears.

“Jaysus!” Sam barks when she ran out of breath. “You barking mad?!”

“I’m late!” She speaks out her realization.

“Late? Late for where?” Sam asked credulously in protest.

“Please! Take me to DWMA! Now!” She panicked, rushing for Sam’s aid. “Your horse! Take us there!”

Sam stares and produces a glaring eye, as she was obviously going to take his steed from him. “Whoa,
whoa! I’ll just take us there. Yeah?”
She nods up to Sam and with that, the two of them are set to DWMA. “tramping about in the desert.
Now, we’re rushing.” Sam muttered frustration before lending her a hand.

The stranger grasps and grips it before Sam hooks her up and onto the saddle. “Then, onward to Death
City! Hyah!” Sam shouts, whipping the reins //// and snapping them onto Vane’s nape. Sam and the
stranger credulously look at the undead horse, which just stayed his hooves in the sand.

“… Vane. Mate.” Sam asked, grinding his teeth with ticked attitude. “Time. To Go.” He says in a grunt, his
impatience almost taking over him to slap the hell out of his horse. Then, before the stranger behind
him can even question what’s going on, Vane suddenly withers in black smoke. Sam and the stranger
behind him fall their rears flat to the sand.

Sam, along with the blunt pain on his ass, realizes that he’s exhausted his horse to the point of
vanishing. “… FFFFFFF!” He stops from barking angrily, stomping the sand.

“Was your horse tired?” The stranger speaks out, dusting the sand off her.

Sam looked up to furrowing worried face looking back at him. “Could be.” He dryly says up to him, his
cursing reduced to a tick in his veins. Sam was about to stand, but is presented with a hand. He looks up
to the stranger offering her hand. Taken aback by this but having none of it due to his mood and the
familiarity, he swats her hand away from him and stands on his own two feet.

This has led to the atmosphere becoming a bit awkward for some friendly conversation to seep in, “…H-
How’s about we take a walk? We should be getting closer as we have the sun.” Moira awkwardly offers,
the sweat now reaching her pits.

Sam just looks back to her and to the desert that she offered to walk upon. Walking to the DWMA?
Through this desert? “… Yeah?”

“Yeah. I really should be going anyway. And strength in numbers, all that.”

As she explained, Sam noticed her hands started to fidget a bit. Taking in the landscape, he sighs before
his eyes land on hers. “Right then. Lead the way.”

With that, she steps in a direction and Sam follows. They were now wading about in the desert. Sam
still-furrowed brows now softened as he listened to their boots crunching the sands. “By the way,” Sam
hears her once again and he rolls his eyes to hers. “, My name is Moira. Moira Popkin.”

She introduced herself to Sam, so Sam does the same. “I’m Sam.” He grunts, keeping his chagrin to
minimum.

Moira smiles to herself as they walked and she led the way. As Moira led, Sam lagged behind as he
trudged over the sands and over the dunes, he found his irritation grow.

Calm, dearie. Calm…

His mother’s voice flowed through his thought, shushing any ticking irritation with a humming tone that
soothed him. “… tch, stay dead, won’t ya?”

Line
From the highest noon to the latest of evening day, the sun scorched the landscape until Sam and Moira
began to drip sweat down to their legs. As they walked, Sam never felt the need to die now more than
ever and just die from a stroke.

He could hear the wailing dear mother that he holds dear now, screeching into his ear.

“Tch,” Sam prods a finger into his ear with annoyance, hearing the starts of ringing in them. “, Oi, how
much further until we arrive at DWMA?” Sam impolitely asks, cutting through to Moira’s train of
thought and making her stagger a bit.

Moira peers into the landscape, finding no familiarity with it one bit. But she looks at the ridge in front
of them and finds one such feature of it to be familiar. It struck her as the realization blew threw her
face very much like the cold windy breeze that came with it.

“Oi. You even hear?” Sam prods his voice into her ear, puffing his chest up.

“Look!” Moira pointed agape, with relief. Sam follows her sight with a ticking brow. He looks over the
ridge and sees the branches of withered trees, a different sky that emanated Death, and he was starting
to smell some wax.

“Yup. Rightly so.” Sam said, almost surmising Moira. Without any words, they both stepped towards the
domain of Death’s world. After a while, the crunching sand beneath them turned to graveled soil as they
went close to a tree out of the vast, barren and withered forest.

Then, without warning, Sam hears a crash down to the gravel behind him. Sam immediately looks to
Moira, face first to the ground.

“… Let’s err - rest, yeah?”

Upon Sam’s offer, Moira weakly says, “Yeah. Thanks.” whilst flashing a thumbs-up.

Sam went over to her and proceeded to put her arms around her, and carrying her. Sam felt no struggle
from her, however, as she was princess-carried with a displeased face. Sam just furrows and grinds his
teeth, looking away from her displeased face.

After placing her down and back against a tree, Sam steps away and looks for some stones and sticks.

“… didn’t have to carry me like that.”

Hearing that mutter, probably under a pout from her, Sam develops a vein trickle on his temple.
Managing his tick, he sighs it out and continues to find some stones and sticks to make a fire with.

After moments, Sam managed to find many sticks, stones and leaves, dropping them by Moira’s feet.

Her eyes flutter at the sound of clutter barging into her ears. She looks onto Sam crouched.

“… what are you doing?” Moira weakly says, having Sam turn his head towards her glazing eyes.

“Sparkin’ a fire, what else?” Sam replied sparsely, and Moira made herself comfortable just lying back on
the tree trunk. She only stared at Sam banging rocks together for a spark.
Strange. She found herself staring at his back. Even though she had intentions to steal his undead horse,
Sam even obliged to help her, a stranger. What was even stranger is that she just stared at Sam. Curbing
a fluster from spreading, she averts her eyes to the nearest object and peers into it.

Sam, however, aggressively banged the rocks because It’s fucking cold, he’d say. Eventually, one more
spark and a small flame landed onto the pile of leaves. “Hah.” He breathes in a heartfelt relief sigh as he
covers the small flame with his hand, allowing it to spread further into the pile.

Then, the night is lit up with a fire. The grinning moon ascends to the sky as Sam stokes the fire in the
pile of leaves and throwing in the sticks. Sam’s ears pick up the sound of hands clapping weakly and he
turns to see Moira doing the clapping, huddled to herself closely with knees. “Nice job, Sam.” Moira
congratulated with a dear smile on her smooth face.

Captivated by that, Sam grimaces at the sight before thanking her. With that, Sam tiredly strides over to
her and joins in basking in the fire’s heat by the dead tree. The crisps of the fire filled their ears as their
skin begin to gather heat from it.

“… You got any food, do you?” Moira says breaks the silence with her question.

Upon hearing, both of their stomachs began to growl. Sam develops a vein but focuses his aggression in
peering into his bag for anything edible.

“… Only some crackers and a cob can.” Sam pointed out, presenting both with a swishing hand.

“… We’ll split them both.”

Moments later, they were both eating a can of corn and three halved crackers by the fire whilst his mind
drifted thoughtlessly. Sam munched on his crackers as he stared deeply into the fires, his eyes not even
feeling a sting from peering.

“… Hey.” Sam hears Moira speak out, making Sam look at her. “Why’d you come to DWMA?” She posed
a question staring into his eyes.

After averting from her purple irises, Sam mulls it over with a tick in his head. “… Y’see,” He began,
scratching his nape. “I’ve just registered last month. Mum won’t stop wailing till I went, and here I am.
Three weeks later.”

“Ah~” Moira gaped with a soft smile through her corn can. “You’re a freshie, then.”

“Hah?” Sam replies, not knowing what she meant.

“One of the freshmen.” Moira points out before munching her last cracker and stands. “I guess this
means I’m your senior.” From where she sat, Moira rubbed her palm of flakes and presents her hand for
a shake and Sam fixes his eyes at it. “I look forward to seeing you in class.”

Seeing this, Sam unfurls a brow or two in surprise to this gesture. “… R-right on.” He awkwardly says
before grasping her hand, taking the gesture.

As their palms touched and warmed up, they gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment before the fire
sparks and brings them back to reality. “Well, since we have nothing to do, how’s about we have a mock
sesh right now?”
“… Se. sh?” Sam panned out, not knowing what she meant again.

“A session. I ask questions, anything, and you answer. Kinda like an interview.”

“Er… sure.”

“All right” Moira psyches herself up as she made herself cozy by the fire, facing Sam and he turns over
toward Moira. “Hmmm…” Moira pondered, looking elsewhere. “Ah. So what do you aim to achieve in
DWMA?”

Her first question was somewhat deep, but Sam’s composure held back from bursting in laughter but
failed to suppress a chuckle. He places his palms onto his Indian seated thighs before answering. Moira
shuffled closer with her hears trained on Sam.

“… I aim for strength.” Sam said, almost shrugging.

“Mmm. Is likely that. We are Death’s students after all.” Moira pans out, and Sam can only nod along
and stuff some cobs into his mouth. The fire trickled as it shone bright through the grinning night and
the sounds of crickets started to seep in.

“Hmm… What about your hobbies? Outside of school?” Moira asks before spooning cobs into her
mouth.

Sam scrunched his lips, choosing from his many hobbies in his little village. “Mmm… I like to handle
household chores. Till my field, read letters.”

“Sounds like your village is far from the city.”

Sam breathily chuckles at her answer. “So it is.”

Moira’s knees shuffle in place, lying closer to the fire. “What about your family? How would they react
with you being a meister?”

Sam perks his mouth as he etched his finger by his jawline. “…” He spoke nothing as his eyes linger to his
necklace, almost hearing the voice of his mother. “…” After thinking up something to say, his mouth
opens -

“DAMN PROUD, I’ll be!”

Moira squeaks as she staggered in place by the fire whilst Sam groaned at the sound of her wailed voice.
Then, from Sam’s necklace, comes out a specter. It twists into a small vortex before it forms to a more
human shape. Sam and Moira fix their eyes to the vortex slowing down to give shape, though Sam’s face
earned a sour mood.

The specter slows down and forms into a person. A woman, Moira sees. Only for Sam, it was her
mother.

“Mum. The question was directed to me.”

“And I answered.” She quipped, etching some more salt for Sam. “C’mon, Sammy.”
A vein pops from his mother invoking his pet name as salt gradually boiled to an annoyance. “Mum. You
really should be resting.”

“And I will when -.” Her eyes lingered to behind, landing onto Moira. She only smiled dearly back to the
specter of a mother Sam had. “- When you introduce me, that is.” She wagged her eyes as she turned
towards Moira with interest.

“Oh, My name is Moira Popkins. I’m a meister at DWMA.”

“Oh ho~ Widening your sphere of influence, eh?” Sam’s mother remarked to Sam, making him groan.
“Well, Miss Popkins, I hope you can take care of my darling boy. He can be frustrating sometimes.”

Moira stifled a giggle before replying. “I hope to do that, ma’am.”

The specter of Sam’s mother backs up to whisper by Sam’s ear. “I like her already. Hee hee.”

Sam scowled with a growl directed to her, holding back some curse words from spilling. “Hehehe. Right
then, I’ll have to get going,” She announces to them both. “Tata. Oh, and don’t forget to give Lord Death
my gratitude.”

“I will, mum. Off to bed and leave me be.” Sam says under a bark.

“Okay~ Take care.” Sam’s mother says before she shrinks and spins back into the necklace, leaving the
two to their thoughts.

Moira just watched Sam mingling with his family. That was adorable, she thought. It warmed her heart
at how wholesome that was.

Retracting his fingers from pinching the bridge of his nose, Sam looks at Moira with a sorry face. “I
apologize if my mum made you uncomfortable. She shouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh I’m fine.” Moira contraries, having her palms up. “really. I thought that your mom was rather cute.”

“Heh,” Sam scoffs quickly, retorting Moira. “Wait till you hear her wailing. Someday, you’ll hear a
banshee in the courtyard just bawlin’ and wailin’.” Sam whines as his legs shuffle for comfort. He gobs
down a spoon of corn soup and the atmosphere returns to the spark of the camp fire.

“… So, what were we talking about before?” Moira tries to remember but has her mind set on Sam’s
family.

“My strength?”

“Oh, right. Strength. Erm. Why that?”

“…” Saying nothing, Sam’s eyes delve into the leaf-littered floor in front of them while Moira’s ears perk
up, listening intently. “… In truth, I’m tryin’ to put something down.”

“Oooh. Did this thing do something to you?”

“Nothing, really. But…” Another pause in Sam’s explaining, and Moira’s ears spike up again. “It’s going to
be coming after a year. There was – something about an unstoppable force coming from the east. I
forget. Until then, I need to get stronger.” Sam racked his brain for words, his eyes gazing through to the
litters of leaves.

A small squeal sounds off, grabbing Sam’s attention. His eyes roll up to see Moira, her eyes sparkling in
admiration with a shaped ‘o’ on her lips. “That’s so cool~” Her squealing spilt, eliciting a hardened face
on Sam. “That sounds like a main character from a manga!” Moira’s squealing had her on all fours,
crawlingly sprinting until her sparkly eyes were only apart by an inch.

Sam was paralyzed as he glaringly gazed in shock at Moira, not even noticing how close they are.

“-S-So, you confide, then?” Sam, scraping some composure, calmly said with a raised eyebrow, looking
straight back at her.

“Yeah. I like to support anyone. Especially people like you.” Moira explains, backing up and straightening
herself up. As Moira plumped herself back down, Sam did the same and huffing out the breath he held
in. “I find that to be a strong character trait. For someone who doesn’t give up, at least.”

Sam develops a warmth under his cheeks, taking her complimenting words to memory. Sam bashfully
itches the hairs behind his neck and head in light of her words. “Th-Thanks for that.”

Moira gives a light chuckle under a dear smile. “No problem.”

After her reply, they became silent and their ears listened once more to the campfire trickling as the
grinning crescent moon shone in the sky.

“… Oi!” Then, Sam’s ears spike up at the sound of a stranger’s voice booming behind them. Sam whips
his head to see a hoodlum and two others wading towards them. Upon seeing their hands brandishing
knives, Sam crouches on his heels and prepares himself.

“Well, well – Lookie here! A cute couple” the hoodlum grimacingly chuckles down his chin at them, and
Sam stands and backs up with Moira as they noticed that the strangers were surrounding them both.
The one in front of them, still keeping a devilish grin, swerves his knife toward them. “How’s about you
cough up all your money and richies, won’tcha?”

Upon the threat, Sam squares up his fists while keeping himself between Moira and them. “Yeah. Fokin
– No?” Sam mockingly rejects their threat. The leading bandit scoffs at Sam’s resolve.

“Fine then.” The leading bandit says, getting a better grip on his knife.

Sam’s foot stumbles upon a stick, and his eyes land upon it. In a moment of thought, Sam veers himself
to grab it. However, as his hands rushed to grab said stick, Sam failed to notice that one of the other
bandits came for his open right with a knife.

As he felt the moment where the knife reaches Sam’s neck, his mind predicted what would happen,
which would be the spilt milk he can’t let be spilt. But there was nothing he could do about the blade
reaching to his neck and he braced himself for the inevitable.

Suddenly, “Ngh!” A grunt was heard before he was suddenly pulled backward. Sam’s head jerks as he
felt the knife swish by his face. His eyes settled as his brain processed the pain on his rear end. He was
on the ground, seeing that the bandit missed and stumbles crashing to the ground.
Sam was immediately pulled up by his collar and his head was lashed with dizzy. “Fuckin’ hell.” He curses
before he is set on his heels. His weight stumbled and leaned to something. Sam looks to Moira, pulling
him back. “You saved me.” Sam thanked, subconsciously checking for any cut on his neck.

“Don’t mention it.” Moira tables Sam’s gratitude and continues to keep Sam by her.

“Take ‘em both!” The leading bandit shouts and the three of them sprint towards them both. Moira,
knowing she was without her partner, pulls out a nightstick and puts herself forward.

One bandit slashes his knife forward, but Moira proved faster and bashed her nightstick into a bandit’s
abdomen, kneading it until he spat out blood. He stumbles as Moira backed up, twirling her nightstick
in-hand for the next one.

“You!” A grunt steps with every slash he throws. Moira dodges one after the other until the bandit’s
third slash.

Moira exploits the bandit’s open back with a, “Stick Chop!” as comically said by her. The bandit crashes
to the ground from her chop to the bandit’s head.

“Geh!” The leading bandit sprints with his knife, aiming himself at Moira. Moira only looks at the bandit
rushing her and she points her nightstick, but too late.

Suddenly, Sam grunts his body in a sprint and crashes into the bandit before he reaches Moira. Sam then
throws the bandit back away from him, causing him to crash to the ground. The bandit shimmies to his
legs before he pants, his hand touches over his pained chest from Sam’s throw.

“F-Fine!” The lone bandit huffs before, to Sam’s astonishment, he whips his empty hand to his side. His
arm glows with red before it folds to a thin blade of a sword, the red finishing off the edge of it. Moira
looks with a serious look.

“A weapon!” Moira gasps at the sight of the bandit’s arm, now turned to a blade.

“Heh! That’s right! I’m a weapon.” The bandit boasted, flaunting his sword-arm to Sam and Moira’s
eyes. “Now, how’s about you just drop dead now?”

“Keh! Then we will only have problems, mate.”

The bandit scowls sourly down at Sam before dashing under a grunt. Sam dodges away from his blade
arm, and it only shings to his direction. “Ngh!” A grunt escapes from Sam before his opponent dashes to
mince Sam to bits.

His blade reaches skyward before he slashes for Sam’s chest. However, instead of a piercing sound,
there is only a clang for Moira reacted faster and deflecting the punk’s blade.

The blade vibrates on his arm and sneds him crashing to the ground while Moira looked down upon the
punk. “You’re outmatched, thief.” Moira panned out, twirling a vanity mirror in her palm. “Leave now
and we won’t call Lord Death here.”

Her threat landed on the punk as he looked up, seeing the vanity mirror. Immediately, he scrambled
away from them both, leaving his bandit friends behind. “I’ll get you back for this!” The bandit shouted
in a sprint as his image dissipated into the dark trees, Sam and Moira exchanged one huge sigh of relief.
Moira’s knees crumbled and crashed to the ground and Sam, only hearing a thud, shuffles to her. “Shit!
You alright?” Sam lent a hand on Moira’s shoulder, keeping her from shaking as she collected breath.

“*sigh* Didn’t think that would work. Ehehe.” She panned out with a tiny smile through a sheepish
giggle.

“Er,” Sam’s worry started to dissipate as she was fine and her breathing and heartbeat started slowing
down. He stood up on his feet and looked onto the two other bandits. “… Suppose we bring them with
us on our way to Death City.”

Moira glanced behind her, seeing Sam looking at the two unconscious. “Yeah. Seems so.” She drily said
as she stood back up. Glancing to one of one of their pockets, she sees a strand of rope. “Let’s tie them
up, then, Sam.” Moira said, passing by Sam and crouching for the rope.

Behind her, Sam contemplated on this night and how close his neck was from being cut through. His
hand hovered over a tinging pain by the side of his neck. The pain subsides as he grows more aware of
it.

… Good thing me mum was better at spell-casting than I. He scoffs at himself from the thought,
grimacing after as he let his hand fall to his side. Got to call her back later.

Line

As the fire raged to a withering smoke, the devilish grinning moon sunk to a drowsy cheerful sun. Sam
Bronnwyn spawns his Undead Horse, Vane, and both him and Moira Popkins step to the horse’s back,
along with the two bandits strapped to each other on the horse.

Sam looked on to the bandits to see they were secure as they dangled behind Moira, then he sets his
eyes back to their front. Sam rested his hands onto his thighs as he set Vane to horse-walking.

A drowsy yawn escapes Moira’s mouth as she fanned her mouth’s breath back. “Should have slept some
more.” She remarked this morning to Sam under her drowsiness. Sam, on the other hand, was wide-
awake.

Sam’s brain ticked on over what to say to liven up the morning. “… the road went on,” Sam mumbled
verse to liven up the morning, grabbing Moira’s attention in the process. “, and on and on…

Through the fields, the rivers and all things… Time to be on and on and on.” Sam started to drown
himself in song and Moira was hypnotized by how beautiful he sang. It was as if some purity retained
even in Death’s world.

“… You have a wonderful voice, Sam.”

At the sound of her compliment, Sam suddenly tensed up and braced for the embarrassment. “Y-yeah.
Thanks for that.” Sam said with a heat emanating from the neck-up, eliciting a light giggle from Moira.

“You’re welcome.” Moira said to lighten the mood, but Sam could not downplay his blushing. Making up
for his fluster, Sam clears his throat to change the subject.

“*ahem* so, anyway, what’s to happen to those two?” Sam said, averting his face from her sight.
Upon his question, Moira glanced her eyes upon the two tied-up bandits. “… Well, I was sent on
assignment to find some weapons causing trouble. I’d say that Lord Death has what he’s looking for.”

“Right. Then, I guess I’ll drop you off by the academy.”

Moira nods to that conclusion as Sam whipped the horse’s reins and hastened Vane’s pace from
clopping to trotting to reach the top. As his eyes gazed to the top, he began to see three black orbs in
the sky. The pointy obelisks of the skull overlooking an entire walled-off city became clear as Sam’s
horse emerges over a mound.

“Yeah. I’d reckin that’s Lord Death’s beloved city.”

Moira peeks over his shoulder to get a view of the city that it was indeed the city. Her home. “A sight to
behold, isn’t it?” Moira says, remarking the sight to Sam’s eyes.

Sam remained silent and at awe as he stayed the undead horse to relish his eyes with the sight of the
behemoth of a city, the academy overlooking and all. In perfect time, the sun has opened its eyes wider
with a grin starting to form on its face.

“… Right. Onward and upwards.” Sam psyches himself up he whips the reins onto Vane, whinnying
before going for a trot towards the skull-infested city limits. As the horse trotted closer, Sam’s thought
revolved on what he is to do later.

They zip around to getting to his rental apartment, then sleeping his ass off until the next morning and
eating to his heart’s content.

Now that sounded like a plan.

Line

At the front of DWMA and its entrance, Sam’s horse stows by and they take a breather.

“Right. Here we are.” Sam says behind him and Moira steps off his horse. Sam, only thinking off helping
her with the goons, glances behind him to see Moira had pushed them off the horse.

‘Oh, guess not.’ Sam says to himself in mind and just turns Vane around for the stairs.

“Well, thank you, Sam, for accompanying me thus far.” Moira thanked up to him, expressed in a bow.

“Oh, Welcome, then.” Sam awkwardly said, nodding down to her.

“So, what will you be doing now?” Moira piqued.

Sam, looking off into the distance, collects his key points. “I’ll find a place to stay for the night and then
I’ll come back here to give my enrollment application to – actually start being a meister.” Sam sums up,
making Moira chuckle at how quippy it was.

“Well, if you ever need some help settling in at DWMA,” Moira says as she pulled out a notepad and rips
a page off, giving it to him and making him look down to it. “, Just give me a call.” Moira said under a
wink.
Sam’s eyes went up at how smooth she was. Strongly, Sam took the piece of paper and tucks it in his
pocket. “Yeah. I’ll mull over it.”

“Right. And Welcome to Death City.” Moira smiled up to him as she turned to the two thugs.

Sam sighed once more and clicks his mouth, signaling Vane to start trotting down the stairs. One more
glance to Moira as he goes further away. Moira spots him looking her way and waves with a grin, and
Sam waves back as Vane clopped down the stairs.

With that, Sam was off and on to the Bull Condominiums. After a moment descending to the bottom of
the stairs, Sam heard a chuff from Vane as it looked up to him.

“What?” Sam said down to Vane. Its face folds to a teasing look, and immediately, Sam understood.
Yeah. Real smoothie, ain’t ya?

“Pft C’mon. Just some niceties and I’m a fucking playboy.” Sam criticizes, making the horse turn its head
back forward. Sam looks away and his mind lingers to the piece of paper that Moira gave him. “… And I
was real smooth, aren’t I?”

Vane snorts before it whips its horse tail at Sam’s face. “Pft!” Sam raspberries and spits the hairs out his
mouth. His slobbering earns a grinning whinny from Vane. “Alright, damned sod! No need for that!” Sam
curses down at Vane, his mood ruined for the moment while Vane continues to whinnied laughing at
Sam.

After a second, his annoyance subsides to a tinge in his head. Sam’s horse descends down from the
stairs to the slanted flooring. Eventually, Sam’s eyes started rolling and patrolling for anything that fits
the condo’s description.

Line

After countless moments of searching for the condominium (which consisted of him letting Vane rest for
the afternoon, getting some actual good food at a restaurant, hearing out his mum mumble and talk to
him and telling her his day, and actually went on to find the fucking condo), Sam’s walked around a good
amount of the afternoon and finally found the Diamond Condominium apartments. A three-storied
building on the edge of a block in an intersection.

And it was not a suitable place for him.

Finding it disgusting, the walls did not shine like diamonds but more like cement, unpainted and dull
white. The condo had solid walls and foundations and planked wooden flooring, and from the looks of it,
waxed. Its windows were the type to slide with glass that looked greasy but not stinky, the doors
opened and closed but creaked.

Taking the strength to step through the entrance, without taking in the blocky smell of waxed flooring,
Sam lightly treads on new ground in search for the front desk. Or something.

After finding the office and meeting the landlady Linda, he trudges himself to his room and unlocks the
door. Pushing through the door, Sam could care less about what was inside for he was tired as fuck.
Closing and locking the door afterwards, his head was on fire for the past two weeka of travel and he
had to crash.
Living room? Couch?

Sam dives right in. His eyes close for night and his breathing slows for sleep. In his head, drifts into the
darkness that was the dark living room he was in. Then, he could hear what was the dulled snoring that
was his. Just like that, Samuel Bronnwyn slept for the entire night.

Sam’s eyes flutter awake to the sound of birds chirping and the unfamiliar bustle which was Death City.
After a smacking of his tongue in the walls of his mouth, Sam sits on the couch and taking in the
ambience of the room. Its painted walls were newly painted white and floors were the same planks as
the hall outside.

Sam loosens his chaffing shirt collar and takes off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. A yawn escapes his
mouth and he creakily stands to his feet, and Sam trudged around his rental dorm and searches for his
room.

To the left of the living room was the bathroom. Unsanitary but he could clean up a bit. Closing the door,
he goes to the next room to see that there was his room, and Sam staggers at its state.

Somehow, the bed was neatly folded already, his closet was bustling with his clothes, and all his things
in his luggage had been neatly placed by the corner. His awed eyes eventually land onto the table, and a
note stuck on top of it.

Sam takes a closer look at the note to find words on it.

[Took the liberty of fixing up your room for you – Linda the Landlady]

Seeing how sweetly written Linda wrote, Sam itched a finger by his nape with the feeling of gratitude in
the morning overwhelming him. His eyes drift over to the mirror and he eyes himself and his neck. He
can still feel the slash on it but only a small tinge of it remained, forming a scar.

‘Close one…’

Sam remarks on the clean cut that just grazed his neck. An inch deeper, Sam’s head would go clean off.
And that wasn’t what Sam feared most. It is what comes after. Which is no bueno.

Either way, his stomach began to growl and Sam decides for a plate of breakfast.

Line

END