(02)

At the summit of Mt. Ebott, there is an entrance to another world. A place beneath the horrid, ruined surface. The world above, once inhabited by the proud humans, now lies in the hands of the cursed and undead shells of its former denizens. Greatbeasts, demons, and everlasting dragons now ravage the land of a once-great kingdom which rose from the ashes of an even greater war. It stood tall as one of man's strongest kingdoms, but none of it was fated to last long. The land Man had inherited lacked a certain element, an element that had been banished to the Underground. The world above became unbalanced, and the darkness of humanity soon spiraled out of control, becoming the world mankind inhabits today.

At the mouth of a cave leading to the entry of the world below, a hulking figure sits near a small bonfire, resting.

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The sounds of the crackling bonfire the Undead rested at echoed into the cave mouth before him, seemingly beckoning him to finish his journey and begin the real exploration.

'Patches was not lying when he said this mountain was far and steep, quite the trek.'

Other than the vast distance he needed to cover, his trip had gone relatively smoothly, putting aside the usual issues one would face traversing the Ruined Kingdom at any length. Of course, the whole gamut of the usual annoyances got in his way, such as the groups of fully insane, humanity-deprived Hollows, but that was only while he was still well within the limits of the kingdom. Mount Ebott was such an isolated place in relation to the kingdom that at a certain point, he no longer even saw any errant undead or demons in the surrounding wilds, resulting in unusually peaceful traveling.

The mountain itself was quite the challenge to ascend with armor as heavy as his, but his goal was set in stone the moment he laid eyes upon this mountain from the shrine. Gazing upon it sent a buzzing through his shot memory and muddled mind, something that gave him a drive many undead would literally kill for. Besides, climbing a mountain was trivial in comparison to some of the other tasks he'd saddled himself with before. At least with this, his risk of dying was likely minimal. Explore a little, find some things and see if they jog his memory any more, find out why this place intrigued him so, and return.

His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed his bonfire was beginning to die out, so he stood and retrieved his weapons which were lying next to him as he sat. First, he picked up his ever-reliable claymore, an enchanted blade that had been by his side for an incredible amount of time. It allowed him to cast spells as if it were a catalyst, and also had a talisman attached to the pommel like a tassel, which allowed him to channel miracles as well. Next, he replaced his grass-crested shield onto the hook on the back of his armor. The shield also had an enchantment, but it wasn't anything he had placed on it, rather, it was simply a piece he had found in his travels at some point. Its enchantment enhanced his stamina recovery, useful in hectic battles where dodging was paramount.

He then tended to his dying bonfire. He decided against refueling it, preferring to keep it in his box should he need to rest in the field. Additionally, individual Embers only kept bonfires lit for so long, and there were no Firekeepers anywhere nearby. He pulled the blade-like poker from the ash-covered ground, then stowed it in his bottomless box on the back of his equipment belt.

Feeling his innate curiosity urging him to get a move on, he peered into the mouth of the cave. He was on the western face of the mountain, so the cave was rather well-lit thanks to the sunlight pouring in. Walking in, he was presented with a massive hole in the middle of the cave floor. The hole was nothing but pure black with a puny amount of light shining onto the bottom far below him.

He was eerily reminded of the time he'd jumped into the Abyss, a roiling void of what seemed to be ever-expanding darkness. Despite his victory, he did not like remembering the battle that raged down there, nor did he like remembering what he had to do to get into the Abyss in the first place. Just deplorable, rotting memories he wished to lose in favor of getting back some he'd likely value a little more.

The Ruined Kingdom was a never-ending source of such awful memories. There was little there left for him. He had already explored a vast majority of it and defeated plenty of the toughest opponents that inhabited it, most recently of which was the Altered King himself.

With a shake of his head, he refocused on why he was here. Exploration. He cast one last glance down the hole before deciding to prepare to jump. He figured his best option would be to cast a Fall Control spell on himself or maybe even drop a prism stone down to see if it was a safe drop for him. He decided on both. Reaching into a belt-fastened pouch, he pulled out one of the egg-like stones and dropped it into the hole before him. For a few moments, he listened, and listened, and listened some more.

Nothing. No light, not even a warning scream that the fall was fatal, or a confirmatory chime that it was safe. Just darkness and silence.

Worriedly, he dropped another, thinking the first may have been a dud. Once more, no response. After crossing his arms in thought, he figured he'd wing it and use the Fall Control spell. He unsheathed and held his claymore in front of himself, the flat facing him. With a silent recollection of the spell's characteristics, he cast it upon himself and replaced the blade after, making sure it and the rest of his equipment were secured to his armored form. With the final check complete, he leaped forward into the center of the hole. The spell would remove all physical effects of a hard fall, from any height.

Then, he simply let himself plummet.

The end of his fall came strikingly quick, and far, far harder than it should have, with him ending up flat on his masked face, his armor vibrating dully from the force of the impact. With a pained moan, he turned his heavy armored form over onto his back to look up. What seemed to be miles of darkness yawned above him, and at the end, a small speck of light shone down upon him and his landing zone. With one gauntleted hand, he felt at the ground beneath him, then pulled some of the material up to his masked face.

'Flowers… yellow flowers…'

This had been the first time he'd seen color this vivid in quite a while, the most color his world ever got was the red of spilled blood. For a good few moments, he stared at the flowers, now killed by his hands. He stared at their viscous green juices as they leaked onto his steel gauntlet, and flowed along his vambrace like slow, green blood. As he lay in the bed of flowers, he felt a slight disturbance in his body, which he figured was the damage he took from the fall.

With a wholly empty and airless sigh, he put the flowers back onto their spot, then sat up as he retrieved his healing Estus flask from its pocket on his belt, and then took a swig from it. He wondered why the fall had hurt, had the spell failed him? He put it out of his mind, he felt no worse for wear after a dose of estus, but it had taken him by surprise.

With a huff, he brought himself to his feet and examined the flower bed. He had landed smack right in the middle, and his massive armored form had reduced many of the beautiful flowers to a pitiful crumpled mess, leaving a "him shaped" indent. He could feel something worrying him for some reason, a worry that had not surfaced in centuries.

A worry about something other than his own self-preservation, albeit a rather finite worry.

'What if someone takes care of these flowers? I ruined them… hrrm…' The fleeting thought was chased away. Why would he care? They were just flowers. Though... as he thought about it more, the yellow and green plants became oddly precious, the world he inhabited had long since died. Not even the horrid Darkroot Forest was green anymore. The land he inhabited was a land of gray and red. He realized this was the first true life he had seen in quite some time, and he had ruined it.

Tearing his eyes away from the regret-inducing mess, he noticed it was not quite so dark down here. If he squinted, he could make out columns and some of the walls surrounding him. Looking harder, he could see a path. It seemed to be the only option in terms of moving forward, so he steadily set out, his heavy steel boots and armor clanking rhythmically as he went. He made sure to keep an eye and ear out for anything that would warrant a fight, as was usual for him.

Soon, he arrived at a stone entryway. His head was nearly able to touch the top of the structure, so he ducked his head for safety as he passed through. On the other side, a patch of light greeted him, not too dissimilar to the previous one he had landed in. Inside this light…

'Another flower…?' He was about to walk through the arch and approach the single, large flower and examine it when he noticed he could almost see a…

"Howdy-!"

'Face! The flower has a face! and it speaks!' He backed up a bit back into the archway. He had not had good experiences with faced-or-ambulatory-foliage in the past, especially those of the fungal variety. The flower looked up at him, and squinted…

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'What is this thing?! It looks like a human in armor, but its soul feels wrong, wrong but powerful…'

Flowey looked into the darkness of the entry up at the "human," and looked at its steel-clad face. The mask looked like a happy kid with a mess of curled steel "hair" at the top, a wide, cracked open smile, and pure black eye-holes. It was rather off-putting as they silently stared, they had backed up when Flowey had greeted them and placed their hand on the handle of an alarmingly large sword that was sheathed at their side.

He quickly devised a plan, perhaps this human-thing coming along was good luck, that soul was way over the power he'd need, it seemed nigh limitless. He could trick this person into letting down their guard, defeat them, then take their soul! He put on his friendliest smile…

"Hey pal, don't worry, I'm just a flower! Flowey the flower! You must be new to the Underground! I bet you're confused, huh?"

In response, the human-thing's posture settled, but they did seem confused if the tilt of their masked head was anything to go by.

Whether that confusion was in regards to Flowey or the Underground, he didn't know or particularly care, he needed to be quick! "Yep, I can tell! You need someone to teach you how things work around here, don'tcha? I guess I'll just have to do, so here we go!" As he said the last words, anticipation took over…

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As the flower continued speaking, the Undead grew increasingly paranoid. This thing's speech reminded him of Patches, which was rather alarming considering all the times Patches had backstabbed him...

-"I guess I'll just have to do, so here we go!" With those words, the flower's face changed into a horrific skull-like visage, and a massive wave of magic projectiles sprung out from him, encircling the Undead.

'Sure enough-!'

With trained reaction time, he readied his shield and drew his claymore, quickly casting a lesser Magic Barrier with his sword and raising his enchanted shield to block as many of the projectiles as he could. The mass of magic projectiles washed against his weak, quickly-cast barrier and shield, dissipating a few, but most got through and struck him, angering and egging the flower on.

The flower started to yell at him, preparing to release more projectiles. Before it could attack again it was interrupted by a fireball smacking into its side, uprooting the flower and sending it far off into the darkness.

The Undead fell to his plate-armored knees, his blade jammed into the soft dirt to support him. The magic had done something he had never felt before. It didn't strike his body or non-magical steel armor, instead, it seemed to have passed right through his steel and body and went into his very soul and struck it.

He felt terribly weak, and as he shut down and went into shock, he could see a pair of white-furred feet at the edge of his vision and he heard a gasp, shortly after he blacked out into his own little abyss.

(02)