'They gather in what is colloquially known as 'The Deadlands' (or 'Las Tierras Muertas' depending on your native tongue), a buffer zone between the Madness and the territories yet to be engulfed by it. There they stay -for no one in their group can live- in small pockets of decaying civilisation, moving further South as the Madness' area of influence continues to grow. Those that cannot make the trip get left behind, yet their numbers only increase. In my, admittedly brief, stay I only saw groups come to join their doomed brethren from the South. No one came from the North.

They come in all shapes and sizes, men, women and, despairingly, children. Some look like descendants of the doomed settlers sent by the Great Empires (including my own homeland, the British Empire), others look native, many look like a mix between the two.

Their bodies are hidden, covered in all manners of cloths and veils, as if they are ashamed of their own existence. Their eyes, whenever visible, shun me. Those that can still move huddle away from me using as many limbs still available to them. 'Los Vivos,' some whisper in my wake.

Do they have a purpose? Are their ephemeral lodgings an attempt at community? A last grasp at their fleeting humanity? Are they waiting for something?

They would not speak to me directly, so I could only listen. During the day, their conversations are surprisingly human; people look after their own, whether that be family or friend. The more hopeful ones even crack what sound like jokes, speaking quickly in their native tongues.

At night, the atmosphere changes. They cannot sleep, and those that stay outside chatter endlessly, teeth clacking, hinting of a Death-Priest with blasphemous plans, descendants of test subjects of an ancient Witch and a God who cannot stay dead.

Some seem more afraid of the latter and its implication than the Madness itself.'

J. Brooks, 'The Living Dead of North America'

\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/

Chapter 26: Don't Go To The Light

\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/

Liz was having an awful morning.

First of all, her back hurt. Her bed had been a glorified mattress on the floor, hard with age and tear which caused to twist and turn within the night. Secondly, her stomach protested loudly about the lack of food, with tied in nicely with her third point; her rude awakening.

Before the sun had even risen, Liz had been woken up by loud knocks on her door. Liz had gotten out of bed with the sole intention of chewing out whoever was inconsiderate enough to wake her up before she could get a full night's rest before returning to her bed.

A person, a nameless goon for all Liz cared, had been standing right outside her door. Their face had been obscured by some sort of black smooth fabric, like a gender-neutral mourning widow's veil. "Come with me. You are needed," the intruder had said before turning his gaze away from them.

Liz's face had morphed into a scowl, barely restraining herself from slamming the door at the guy's -she assumed they were a dude because the voice was masculine- face. "What for?"

"Your Master requires you."

Not quite sure how to respond to that, Liz had woken up Patty and the two followed the nameless goon who had later instructed her to follow another guard, which they had done. At that point, Liz had thought that Kid wanted to talk to them and had set it up in the most awkward and inconvenient way possible. It was with that in mind that Liz had been about to go off on Kid the moment the guard was out of hearing range until the door opened and Kid had thrown a quick confused glance at their direction.

Liz had felt her stomach drop at that point. Now, sitting among a bunch of other strangers -some of them unwashed judging by a pungent odour intensified by the humidity and heat- she could confirm her suspicions; they were being carted off somewhere. Liz didn't know where, but to bring her and Patty along meant they expected resistance.

Great.

"Sis," Patty nudged her. The younger Thompson was squished between Liz and a man built like a wardrobe. "Where are we going?"

"I don't know Patty." Things looked bleak but she wasn't about to say that to her little sister. Instead, she lopped her hand around her sister's shoulder in a protective grip and gave small glares at the people around her.

"Hey."

Liz glared at the person who had dared interrupt her much-deserved sulking time. It was a young man standing opposite to them, roughly Liz's age and with dark skin. He had a handsome face, in Liz's opinion, black dreadlocked hair and cheerful dark brown eyes covered with wide-framed glasses. Two young children of ambiguous gender, blonde, blue-eyed and dark-skinned, sat next to him.

"What?" Liz's tone could sour milk.

"You're new here," the boy casually said, ignoring Liz's unpleasant grimace. "I'm Kilik."

"Liz," the older Thompson said through gritted teeth. She'd already had her fill with overeager boys with that blonde-haired clown yesterday. "So what?"

"Are you a Meister?" Kilik asked, looking between her and Patty. "Or are you a Demon Weapon-?"

"Death's Weapon," Liz cut him off. She got a perverse satisfaction from watching his befuddled and mildly disturbed expression. It was with greater satisfaction that she noticed everyone else in the truck also went quiet and avoided her gaze.

Good. That meant Liz could now finally get some peace and quiet.

… Her stomach grumbled. She hadn't eaten any breakfast, and didn't look like she was about to do so anytime soon. It was fine though. They wouldn't starve her, or her sister. Everything was fine unless that other hunger showed up-

Liz bit her tongue hard. She was thinking nonsense, probably mulling over what Joe had said to her earlier. The man was talking out of his ass though. Liz knew herself. She had eaten souls, and they had only given her strength. She hadn't allowed them to drive her mad, she was stronger than that. Even then, if the souls did cause her some sort of trouble, Liz would deal with it herself, not run scared to Kid, Grim Reaper or not. She didn't mind using Kid's position to ensure her sister's safety, but Liz took care of her own problems.

Ultimately, Liz could only trust herself.

\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/

Kid was sitting in a rather cramped space that smelled of old boots and motor oil. The space shook every now and then, and Kid found himself unintendedly swaying in sync with the vehicle each time it passed over a particularly rough patch of terrain. The back end of the camouflaged vehicle was separated from the front seats, where Kid sensed two souls were. The only other person with Kid was Theodore, who was sitting across of Kid. Just the two of them in the back of a jeep.

…It was a rather silent and awkward ride.

Currently, Kid was staring at nothing. Theodore's gaze was on him now and then, but the High Priest had been surprisingly quiet for the duration of the ride.

Not that Kid knew the man well. The few times he interacted with Theodore were few and short. Disregarding the duration in which Kid was held captive, Theodore regarded the Grim Reaper with formality and a detached interest. The few times he would speak would be to remind Kid of plans, meetings, or inquire about his health, all of which required brief meaningless answers. They had never… talked.

Not that Kid felt any need to do so anytime soon. His only desire was to find out what exactly was going on. From the way he had been abruptly woken up, escorted to a military-style truck and the small gaggle of souls following after them on another truck, Kid could guess they were going somewhere related to Kid's… nature. He had little clue as to where and for what exact reason, and was tempted to ask. Theodore had only told him the bare bones, that they were heading towards the border and Kid's help was instrumental into what would happen. Kid felt he was owed a better explanation. Well actually, Kid felt as if he was and had been owed many explanations, but that was hardly a conversation he was willing to have here and now.

He glanced at Theodore. The High Priest was looking away. His right hand reached into his inner robes and he seemed to be fiddling with something.

Kid suppressed a frown. Theodore did not fiddle.

With a sigh, the High Priest looked up and their eyes met. As if struck by lightning, Theodore dropped his hand, straightened his back and cleared his throat. Kid didn't react, as was expected of him because of his detached and expressionless persona. He did look away though, not wanting to come across as expecting Theodore to talk.

"Lord Death."

'Too late,' Kid thought to himself.

With a medium degree of reverence, Theodore reached into a small black box under the makeshift benches they were sitting on and withdrew it. "Pardon the last moment nature of this affair, but I felt you should have this." He opened the box withdrew a single object and presented it to the Grim Reaper.

Initially, Kid thought Theodore handed him an actual jawless human skull, but upon closer inspection turned out to be a mask. The fact that Kid hadn't been particularly surprised by the former, spoke volumes at how topsy-turvy the world had become lately.

Kid took the item and frowned. "A mask?"

"I believe it is rather premature for the public to see you in your current form," Theodore said in a low voice. "That should happen at least after…"

"I've regained more of my power," Kid finished with a sigh. "Alright."

Kid held the mask with both hands and turned it around, revealing a smooth crevice where his face was supposed to go. He wasn't sure if this was real bone and wasn't particularly keen on finding out. He also held back on asking if the object was anything close to hygienic.

From the corner of his eye, Kid saw a small string protrude from Theodore's robes. Eager to change the conversation and put the skull mask aside, he gestured at the object. "What is that?"

From the way Theodore's eyes temporarily widened, and his hand instinctively hovered over the area, he did not expect or even wanted to be asked about this object. It was with great reluctance that Theodore looked down and withdrew a small object from within his clothes.

It was a small cloth pouch, barely bigger than a child's fist. It was held closed by a string. One end was bare, the same end Kid had seen. On the other end, two plain rings were tied together, the metal rusted from age. An old yellowed photo was sewn on its side.

"This is what remains of my wife."

Kid barely managed to stop his expression from dropping. Dead relatives were never a good subject of discussion.

Hesitantly, Theodore handed the pouch to the Grim Reaper. Kid made sure to handle the pouch with utmost care. He was dealing with sensitive material.

From what Kid could feel, what little remained of Theodore's wife were teeth and perhaps a bone fragment or two. The photo was old and bleached by time. Kid could barely make out a head covered in thick dark curls, dark eyes with a downward slant and a big thick-lipped smile. The rest of the photo was mostly an indistinct mess of white beige and light red. Kid tried not to focus on the asymmetrical stitches because that would be rude and rather disrespectful. They still bothered him though.

"She looks... nice," Kid said, at a loss at what else to say and looking away from the asymmetrical stitches. All he had to go on the woman was a faded photograph.

Theodore stared at the picture and gave it a rueful smile. "She was. She… also had great faith in you."

Kid nodded at the information. He wasn't surprised Theodore's wife shared beliefs with her husband. Though she looked pleasant in the photo, the thought of having to deal with two of the High Priest made Kid's stomach lurch.

"Though she and I had our differences in that respect," Theodore continued, still staring at the old photograph.

"Differences?" Kid asked, seizing the opportunity to learn more about the Academy's notions about Death.

It was another worry Kid had, though one Kid had looked over in favour with mastering his powers and plotting a coup. For a sizable portion of people, the Grim Reaper wasn't simply death personified. To them, Death was a God, with all the expectations and complications that came with the concept. Putting aside what defined a God and to what extent each differing definition could be applied to the Grim Reaper -or any other of the Great Old Ones for that matter- Kid would have to figure out a way to deal with this specific subset of people. As long as Theodore was in power, Kid would have to maintain a careful balance with what was expected of the Grim Reaper by the High Priest, versus Kid's own morals. After that… even in the best-case scenario where Theodore was deposed with minimum bloodshed, Kid would then have an 'image' to worry about. It was probable Theodore wasn't the only one who viewed Death as an austere, borderline-malevolent God. The more he knew about how the people saw Death the better.

Theodore took a few moments to answer. "There were different times then, milord. While you were held… captive by the Kishin, there always had been the hope of your return. After your fight with the Kishin, there was chaos about the Academy's direction." Theodore's eyes darkened. "We had lost some of our strongest, who either had had their souls eaten by the Kishin's forces or had fled like cowards."

At this, Kid's face briefly turned into a grimace, knowing full well Theodore was referring to Marie, Azusa and Spirit -and maybe Stein. Kid had lived with the women a long time, he knew they were plagued by nightmares and that they had fled for his and Maka's sake. In Kid's mind, the three Deathscythes had a special kind of bravery to tough it out and remain in obscurity than return to a place that wouldn't welcome them. Kid had an inkling about what had happened at those who did return from that disastrous night.

"People did not know what to do," Theodore continued, and his expression turned bitter. "Some even went as far as to abandon the Academy, fleeing into the night. Of us that remained, we were at a loss about your situation milord." His face softened in recollection. "My late wife, Ana, was of that opinion that there would be a miracle of some kind and you would return to us, even if weakened. But the years passed and…"

'And I was too busy growing up,' Kid thought. Kid began to empathise with Ana. If only she had been in charge.

"It became obvious that we would have to be proactive in seeking you out." Theodore glanced at Kid and have him a redundant half-bow. "And I couldn't be more glad of our success and your return, milord. I'm sure Ana would be as well. We used to rule together after all."

That took Kid aback. "You did?"

"Indeed. I dealt with the Meisters, while Ana dealt with the Weapons, strangely enough. One would think it'd be more suitable the other way around but it was a system that worked." At this point, Theodore was talking more to himself than to the Grim Reaper. "Ana always had been rather lenient with Weapons."

Kid listened carefully to the High Priest. The man appeared to be wistful and for a moment Kid wondered what had happened to his wife. Judging by Theodore's age… Kid hoped the woman had perished because of time and not because…

Theodore's face soured. "Her soul was eaten a decade ago. If she was still alive, we'd have our 47th anniversary a few months from now."

Ouch.

"And I was…" Theodore sighed and cleared his throat in discomfort. "Ah never mind. Pardon my chattering milord. Ramblings of an old fool…" He looked towards the front of the car while Kid remained motionless and quiet. "We should be arriving soon."

\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/

The rest of their journey was spent in silence. Kid had leant back and occasionally fiddled with the skull mask on his lap, his gaze blank. Theodore was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees and his gaze fixed to the floor.

The ride went on like that for a while. Boring. Uneventful.

Until Kid sensed it.

It came without warning, as if Kid had been zapped by something, as if there was if there was a radius of influence and Kid had stepped right in it. Kid's heart ached, his stomach lurched. His Soul Perception was involuntarily activated and Kid saw the source of it.

Souls. Old souls, pale souls, lost souls.

"The dead," the Grim Reaper let out, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes, though wide, remained focused on the floor. Kid's usual sight was useless. He was completely focused on his Soul Perception, where a sea of souls that should have long ago been out to rest lingered in the distance.

The jeep eventually stopped. Kid was escorted outside, moving mechanically. Theodore stuck by his side and once reached out to steady Kid who had completely ignored the jeep's raised elevation and almost toppled to the floor. He had also reminded Kid of the mask; the Grim Reaper wore it with little acknowledgement.

The jeeps stopped in front of a row of tents. Kid sensed more souls gathered there, living ones. The dead ones were a distance away, obscured from sight by the large white cloth structures. From them, a familiar face -or guise more accurately- appeared. Tezca.

The Deathscythe walked up to a nearby wiry woman who was overseeing the Meisters and Weapons exiting the second jeep. The Deathscythe stopped in front of the vehicles, hands akimbo. "What's this?"

The woman jumped in surprise when she realised Tezca approached her and snapped to attention. "Meisters and Weapons, sir!"

If bear heads could frown, the way Tezca inclined his head covering clearly suggested it was doing so. "I told you none were needed. We can settle this peacefully."

The woman gulped. "N-Not my call sir!" Her eyes scanned the area, firmly landing on Theodore and the Grim Reaper. Tezca followed her gaze and finally walked towards the two.

With a wave of relief, the unnamed woman scurried off leaving Theodore staring at Tezca, a gesture which was probably reciprocated by the Deathscythe.

"Lord Death," Tezca respectfully bowed his head, his tone even. "Theodore."

"What seems to be the problem?" Theodore asked, in a tone clearly implying there shouldn't be one.

"Who decided to bring a strike team?"

"I did," Theodore said self-assuredly. "Clearly you neglected to do so."

It was a good thing Tezca wore a bear head because Kid could picture the Deathscythe's grimace by the way his hands pressed on his waist.

"And from whom exactly are you going to need defending from?" Tezca asked. "These areas are safe. The Kishin's forces have no sway here." The 'yet' part was implied.

"This has not stopped stragglers from marching in such areas, as you very well know," Theodore shot back. "And besides, they will be useful in case any of these so-called colonists," Theodore spat the last words, "try anything."

Tezca tilted his head to the side. "Try anything? What are they going to do, rot at you? Do you have any idea how long it took me to convince them for us to come over?"

"They shouldn't need to be convinced-!"

While the two continued arguing, Kid spied the two sisters disembarking from the jeep, followed by a muscled boy with two twins following after him. Liz's expression as displeasure personified, whereas Patty looked around with nary a care in the world.

Liz flinched when she saw Kid and the boy couldn't blame her; he could only guess how he looked with the mask on. These thoughts were gone as soon as they arrived though, the pale souls over the tents were so distracting-

"So the rumours were true," said a feminine gravelly voice.

The voice belonged to a short and stout woman. Her eyes were a milky blue, and the only part of her visible. The rest was covered in dirty old bandages and a multitude of mismatched moth-eaten clothes. All those things weren't important though.

Her soul was a sickly blue, like those beyond the small sea of white tents.

Theodore and Tezca stopped their short squabble and turned to look at the woman.

Theodore drew himself at full-height, looking down on the woman. "And you are?"

"Mary," the woman simply said, hands behind her back. "But some saw fit to nickname me Leader, for obvious reasons. It's stuck."

"You are in charge of these people then?"

"I oversee our activities, yes," Mary said with a small nod. "Have been doing so for a long time."

"Evidently," Theodore said with a raised eyebrow at her old clothing. "Let us be civilised. In earlier years, your presence had been tolerated." His eyes narrowed. "Now though…"

The woman's visible eyes narrowed in a frown. "I see." She sighed and looked at Tezca. "When you called me, I thought the heat had gotten to you."

"Nothing so simple," the Deathscythe said with a shake of his head.

"Can I see them?" Mary asked, her voice blank. "Death?"

Kid was startled into attention when he heard his name -well, sort of name. So far, he had been hidden from view by Tezca and Theodore's collective figures. The jeep was on his back and a couple of Meisters were on his free side.

The High Priest folded his hands in displeasure. Kid sighed and took a step forward.

"It's fine," Kid said, causing Theodore to step aside and bring the woman into full view. Kid realised she was about his height.

When Mary saw the Grim Reaper, she briefly grimaced and looked away.

"Hello," Kid said, trying his hardest to keep his voice neutral. It wasn't that the woman annoyed him in some manner. From what little Kid had seen and heard of her, Mary appeared to be a perfectly normal if a bit admirable individual. Yet…

It was as if Kid was seeing in dimensions that shouldn't exist, in colours that shouldn't be possible. Mary should have died long ago. Her soul was pale, had been so for some time, and it was wrong-

From inside his mask, Kid averted his gaze. That did little in terms of his Soul Perception, which stayed stubbornly activated.

"Hello," Mary replied in an even tone. Her gaze skirted at the edges of the mask. If she had any comments about the Grim Reaper's appearance, she didn't voice them. "No wonder we don't have people joining us anymore." Mary let out a bitter chuckle and looked away into the distance. "People can die again."

Kid frowned from inside his mask. He wanted to talk with the woman, earnestly as much as could be, but this wasn't about to happen when surrounded by the Academy's minions and Kid looking like something out of a B-horror movie. If only he found an excuse to be alone and even remove the mask…

"May we speak in private?"

Mary gave the two a mildly surmised look but quickly nodded. "Of course, Death."

Using his still active Soul Perception and ignoring the woman's blue-grey soul, Kid pinpointed an empty tent nearby and headed towards it, with Mary in tow.

Theodore also followed them, entering the tent after the Grim Reaper but before Mary.

The old woman gave him a dry look. "I thought we'd talk in private."

Theodore gave her a barely-concealed scornful look. "You will be. As High Priest, it is my responsibility to follow after milord," the man said and Kid couldn't bring himself to go against him. Kid was already planning in testing Theodore's goodwill towards the Grim Reaper and the more approval from the old man Kid had, the better.

The tent was empty of people, having only some sparse furniture and one of two minor equipment on one of its corners. There was a square wooden table with a couple of chairs strewn here and there. An empty folded-up bed was on the far corner of the tent.

Kid sat on one chair, Mary on the other. Theodore stayed upright, standing behind the Grim Reaper.

Kid made a motion to remove the mask. Theodore coughed.

It was a good thing Kid hadn't removed the mask yet because the glare he sent the man could wilt flowers. "Is there a problem?"

"I maintain the opinion that it is premature to venture out without cover, milord. The people-"

"Will be put to rest by dusk," Kid cut him off. "If it pacifies you, I plan on remaining inside this tent."

Theodore did look pacified enough, for he gave the Grim Reaper a short bow. "As you wish, milord."

Kid removed the mask and took a deep breath. The mask had become too warm, to the point of unbearable.

At the gesture, Mary briefly glanced at Kid's face, and then looked everywhere but the Grim Reaper's eyes.

"How many?" Kid began, at a loss of what else to ask.

"We don't keep a head count, but I'd wager five hundred or so," Mary replied in a cool tone. "We're one of the bigger communities."

Kid nodded at the information and bit the inside of his lip. These were a lot of souls…

"I don't believe we'll encounter any resistance?" Theodore pointedly asked.

The woman ruefully shook her head. "Of the few of us that still have the strength to fight, none have any inkling to. They wouldn't come here if they still had that spark of life."

"Why is that?" Kid asked, taking both humans aback.

The woman fiddled with her bandages. "Most wounds can be covered, hidden from polite company. However, it's not just the body that breaks apart…" Her soul gave a slight thrum, like a fish out of water. Kid had to painfully clamp one hand over another to preventer reaching out for it. "I'm guessing you'd figured out why we headed as north as we could without venturing into the Kishin's territory."

Kid glanced at Theodore.

"Only tales, one taller than the other, as far as I'm aware," the High Priest said with narrowed eyes. "Nothing concrete."

"Oh. I suppose that's fair enough. Our people," she stared at Theodore, "never had the need to interact at all." Mary tapped her finger on the table, looking away, self-conscious. "It was a silly thing. When the first Grave Colonists came to be, they weren't very happy with their… condition. They wanted to find a solution." She let out a long sigh. "Those with some guts and an equal amount of stupidity ventured into the Kishin's territory, in hopes of crossing path with Death or what remained of them... uh, no offence."

Kid inclined his head for the woman to continue.

"Their bravest, or stupidest depending on one's point of view, planned a course directly for the Nevada desert basin." Mary shook her head, lost in memories. "Needless to say, none returned."

Kid was listening to Mary intermittently. The Grim Reaper's attention kept being diverted to Mary's soul, a blue orb so pale and dull to the point of looking grey. It was so close to him that if he leaned in and extended his arm he could grasp it…

Kid bit down on his tongue hard and suppressed a grimace. His nails dug in his hands.

"After that, some were disheartened and returned to where they came from, hoping they could still be part of society," Mary continued, oblivious to the Grim Reaper's struggle. "Then there are those that stayed. I was one of them." She let out a long redundant breath. "I suppose we were the most desperate among the factions. We couldn't go back, but we had enough self-preservation in us not to enter Madness-controlled lands. So, we stayed at the very edge. Hoping."

"For what?" the Grim Reaper asked. His voice came out quiet since most of Kid's faculties were focusing on keeping him in place while another rebellious part tried to do the exact opposite.

Mary hesitated. The Grave colonist looked down on her moth-eaten clothes and dirty bandages and then at Kid -never in the eyes, always skittering just to other parts of his face. "I'm not sure anymore."

Theodore, who up to this point had crossed his arms and had been listening to Mary's tale with impatience, took a step forward, bringing himself right next to the Grim Reaper. "Clearly, you recognised your aberrant nature and sought to correct it. Admirable, and now your wishes of our Lord's return have been fulfilled," Theodore said and it was Kid's turn to feel self-conscious. "Yet," the High Priest 's eyes narrowed, "you don't look very eager."

Mary had no issue looking at Theodore in the eyes and giving him a small shrug. "It's been this way for sixteen years now. Some people have gotten used to how things have become. This life has become routine to them."

"Any pain can be withstood if it lasts long enough," Theodore replied, his gaze darkening.

Mary gave the High Priest an understanding look. "Anyways, back to what we were talking about. You don't need to worry about anyone doing anything stupid, as you so succinctly said before," Mary said with a sad smile. "I've informed the other heads. They're gathering the people. All who wished to leave have already left-"

"Left?" Theodore said with a scandalised expression. "You allowed desertion?"

"It's not like I could wrestle them into submission you know." She waved a skeleton-like hand. "These limbs are barely held together."

"One would ask then, what kind of leader can't control their own people."

Mary looked as if she had a good deal to say about her leadership skills but held back on any biting remarks. "Being part of our group was always voluntary and anyone could leave whenever they wished," she said, her eyes downcast. "It's not safe here, so close to the border…"

"Have you been attacked?" Kid asked.

Mary shrugged. "A couple of times. It's usually a one-man/woman/what-have-you group. They usually manage to get a few of us before we fled into the wilderness. Good thing we don't need to sleep anymore."

"Fascinating," Theodore drawled. "Now, I believe you are responsible for organising your people?"

"One more thing," Mary said as she gathered any newly-loose bandaged close to her. She gingerly stood up and look at the Grim Reaper, this time focusing on his hair. "Even if we're stuck, our bodies decay. Many of us have… lost our bodies permanently. We call them -or used to call them I guess- Fallen. The ones with the ability to see souls gather the Fallen ones and we keep them safe, away from Soul Eaters any other that wish harm on them. Ever since your um… revival," Mary respectfully cleared her throat cleared her throat, "most of the souls have passed over in the last week. However, there are a couple that remain."

Kid nodded at the information. Slowly the realisation that he would have to put hundreds of souls to rest came to him like an approaching thunderstorm, where Kid only had a dinky umbrella with no cover in sight.

Well, he was a Grim Reaper. He should know how to do this, Kid would simply have to rely on instinct.

…Which was a better way to phrase what he was about to do when the only other way he could phrase it was to say 'wing it.'

"I'll see to them," Kid replied in a low tone.

Mary looked as if she wanted to say more, but simply inclined her head. "Very well. That is all."

Kid reciprocated the gesture but otherwise stayed silent. What more could he say? 'Thank you for allowing me to put you to rest?'

"Thank you," the Grim Reaper eventually said, "for your cooperation." Suddenly, the prospect of hiding his face with a mask didn't seem like such a bad idea.

Mary gave the Grim Reaper a confused glance before turning to the High Priest. "I'll go inform the others." She turned around and left the tent.

"I will see they don't come to any other decisions," Theodore muttered and hurried after the woman.

Kid mutely nodded and let the High Priest depart.

When Kid was alone in the tent, he buried his head in his hands and let out a shuddering breath.

Kid could do this. He knew he could do this. It was like breathing, or swimming by doggy-paddling. It would come naturally. Kid knew it, he could feel it in his now-restless soul. Yet, the fear of failure hung over his neck like a well-polished guillotine.

…There would have to be no distractions, no opportunities for things to go wrong, for chaos to reign. Kid would have to focus He would have to make sure that everything was in order. Kid would fulfil his duty as the Grim Reaper and finally put the long-suffering souls to rest.

Precisely and perfectly.

\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/

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