She wants to be like her mom. That's Maka's sole goal, to make Soul a Death Scythe like how her mom made Spirit one. That's her one goal, and she won't stop until she completed it.
Of course, she needs to collect ninety-nine souls and one witch soul to make Soul a Death Scythe. Yet she's doing fine so far, fifty souls collected so far.
Slash slash slash. The sounds of her scythe as she slashes through the impurities, collecting their souls in the process.
Final move, jumping into the air, she positioned her scythe. Losing attitude, she started to fall. As she did, she lowered her scythe, cutting open the impure. Getting its soul, she allowed Soul return to human form.
"Fifty-ninth soul, Maka." he reminded her. Maka simply nodded. Her collection was going smoothly, only forty-one souls away. Despite this, she isn't done yet, not even when she makes Soul a Death Scythe.
Maka Albarn is the blue light of despair to all impurities.