The Bloody Witch

2

(Y/N) stood a lone figure before the towering walls of Death City. Her knuckles were white upon the handle of the suitcase, gripping it for dear life. The sun beat down upon her as of it were laughing. All the time she had spent in her cave had served to make her accustomed to the cold.

Just the heat of Death City made (Y/N) feel like she was going to melt into the ground. The sun was also quite a change for her. To go from her freezing cavern to a scorching desert was almost too much for (Y/N) to handle. But whatever discomfort Death City may have caused her, it paled in comparison to the dread overcoming (Y/N) like a lead weight in her chest. Every bone in her body screamed for her to run, to save herself instead of marching into the belly of the beast. Despite her apprehension she knew she had no other option.

No matter what path (Y/N) choose death reared its ugly head. Her only choices were to either be slain by Medusa or by one of the inhabitants of Death City. (Y/N) knew Medusa would show her no mercy, if she were to flee. Running would disrespect Medusa and the time she spent preparing for (Y/N)'s arrival. It would be an insult Medusa would certainly exact vengeance for. So forward (Y/N) went, aware she was sealing her own fate.

Once through the gate, Death City's bizarre architecture stood out to (Y/N). The place was seemingly built as a mountain in the middle of the desert. She found it strange how the narrow cobbled streets wove through the mishmash of stylized buildings, even stranger were the massive looming shinigami skulls littered throughout the skyline. It felt suffocating, a labyrinth of doom contrasted by the vast desert it inhabited.

Much to (Y/N)'s displeasure her destination sat perched atop the peak of Death City, the DWMA itself. She marched through the sweltering heat dreading the mountain of stairs she would soon have to conquer. Under normal circumstances (Y/N) would have simply used her magic to fly herself to the academy, whether that meant using her own for form or taking the form of a bat. Without her magic the steps became a grueling task. (Y/N) wondered if it was her fault for spending her time on her projects instead of fitness. She had to admit Medusa was quite strong without her magic, even Arachne, who never seemed to be particularly concentrated on physical strength, could be a formidable opponent without magic.

Annoyed as she may be, there was no use for (Y/N) to despair over her lacking physical abilities. After all she must be bound to improve them just by living in this magic free hellscape. She stared down the steep climb to the DWMA, embarking on her lone journey to the top. Even though her breath was shallow and her face flushed with exhaustion, (Y/N) continued slowly step by agonizing step. Her baggage pulling like dead weight as she lugged it up the stairs.

Until, after what felt like an eternity, she finally reached her destination. The strange skulls and candles adorning the visage of the DWMA seemed almost pleasent after what she had endured. Looking out she could see vast desert outside of the city walls. As she surveyed the area, (Y/N) noted the surprising lack of pedestrians and passerbys on the roads below. Maybe it was just the narrow streets obscuring her vision, but (Y/N) could only spy a handful of people from her vantage point. However, her observation was soon cut short by the sound of footsteps behind her.

(Y/N) spun around to see none other than Medusa approaching her. Here was where the game began. She was no longer the witch (Y/N) starting now she was (Y/N), DWMA nursing aide.

"You must be (Y/N)?" Medusa extended her hand with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. 

"Yes! You must be Dr.Medusa, it's a pleasure to meet you" (Y/N) smiled returning the handshake. "Thank you for having me!"

"The pleasure is all mine. Follow me and I'll show you to where you'll be working." Medusa spoke as she began to walk off immediately. (Y/N) was somewhat dumfounded, was Medusa going to make her stroll through the halls of the DWMA with all of her luggage. It certainly wasn't out of character for Medusa to give such little thought to (Y/N)'s well-being, but (Y/N) thought Medusa would at least pretend to be kinder as part of her persona. Still, (Y/N) begrudgingly followed Medusa through the skull like entrance, bags in tow.

Once inside (Y/N) tried to follow as closely behind Medusa as she could. She found the corridors of the DWMA not only long, but very plain. If (Y/N) didn't have a guide she'd have surely been lost almost immediately. The hallways were mainly empty aside for the rare student roaming, or faculty member patrolling the hall. Although the halls were empty, they weren't necessarily quiet. There was a dull roar of chatter throughout the building. The noise would grow louder everytime she passed what she could infer was a classroom door only to quiet down before rising once again at the next door. Still there were a couple doors that stayed quiet, whether they were just better behaved classes or something else entirely (Y/N) didn't know. She didn't have time to wonder if she wanted to keep up with Medusa's brisk pace.

"Here we are," Medusa stated as she opened one of the many closed doors.

Peering over her elder sisters shoulder, Y/N saw a what she thought was a surprisingly average office for such a prestigious school. All she could see was a couple cots, cabinets full of pretty basic medical supplies, and corny posters adorning the walls. It was mainly the lack of heavy duty equipment that had caught (Y/N) off guard. Maybe there was stuff stored in the cabinets she couldn't see into or some sort of supply closet (Y/N) wasn't aware of. That was the only explanation that made sense to her. The stories of the fights with meisters other witches would brag about had made (Y/N) think that most of the meisters were constantly crawling back to the DWMA at death's door.

Truth be told, (Y/N) herself hadn't fought a meister weapon pairing for quite some time. So maybe she'd just been putting too much faith onto the boasting that regularly occured at the witches' mass. Maybe nowadays the DWMA was strong enough that life threatening conflict was rare so the immediate need for such tools was not a common occurrence.  Perhaps just maybe, it was that the DWMA was weak enough that there was no chance of saving the people who retuned. (Y/N) hoped it was the latter.

"(Y/N)"

Medusa's sharp voice brought her from the tangent she was exploring in her mind and back into the doorway of the nurse's office.
(Y/N)'s eyes snapped up to meet Medusa's.

"Now that we're here let me go over what is expected of you" (Y/N) could tell Medusa was annoyed. The way Medusa's smile sat upon her face and how her eyes ever so slightly narrowed clearly communicated her contempt. (Y/N) followed Medusa inside closing the door behind her.

The older woman sat down behind a small desk in the corner of the room motioning for (Y/N) to take the sear across from her. As (Y/N) sat down Medusa continued her monologue "I'm sure you're aware, the DWMA does not operate like a normal school. Unlike other facilities it is likely that our care will have dire consequences if not preformed with the utmost diligence. Therefore it is necessary you follow my instructions to the best of your ability, no matter what."

Medusa's eyes bore into the younger girl before her as she spoke. She wore a mask of kindness all the while her aura exuded pure malice.

"Do you understand?"

(Y/N) gulped, "Yes ma'am."

Then in an instant all the tension Medusa had built collapsed as the door violently slammed open. Startled (Y/N) turned to see a man in his early 30s standing in the doorway. He had shaggy dark red hair. Before (Y/N) could make out much else about the man, he lept past her towards Medusa. (Y/N) couldn't help but notice the distinct sent of alcohol as he dove by her. He ended up hugging Medusa's waist as she remained seated.

"Oh Doctor Medusa" he cried "I need some of your sweet, sweet medical love" almost caressing her legs as her spoke. (Y/N) noticed he looked sort of similar to the death scythe stationed at the DWMA Medusa had warned her about. However there was no way a man shameful enough to interact with women in this manner could be a death scythe.

Surprisingly, Medusa seemed somewhat unfazed by this. She was only lightly chastising him while blushing. (Y/N) was quite surprised to see her sister handle it so calmly. Surely if even Medusa was willing to put up with such nonsense (Y/N) would be in for a strange ride at the DWMA.