He spared a few precious moments to weigh the options he has on hand. Should he, or should he not, bring the kid with him? Sure, children were dear, but he was rather reluctant to part with any of his life-saving items. Just as he made up his mind to abandon them, a past memory drifted into his consciousness. It shook his morality enough for him to pause.
"It becomes easier to ignore a stranger in need if you've already done so before. That's why, although risky, I can only hope you won't when the time comes. Pass your kindness onto others just as I've passed mine to you. That way, the world will become a much better place to live in."
Those unrealistic words were spoken by a middle-aged woman with clear eyes and a kind smile. She had helped him a few years prior, giving away her extra filters and rations so that he, who was on the verge of death by starvation and sickness, could live. The memory was faded, but her kindness had remained deep in his subconscious. He longed to be like her, but not everyone would return kindness with kindness in this apocalyptic era. He was betrayed one too many times to take such risks. However, this kid seemed young enough to remain untainted by humanity's greed. Hence why he took the risk to extend a helping hand, just as that woman had extended hers to him.
It was with great reluctance did he begin to dig through his duffle bag for his extra gasmask. It was ill-fitted for a child, but it was better than nothing. Ruefully, he manhandled the unconscious child up to lean against the wall and gently fastened his spare onto their face.
Now that there wasn't any immediate danger to their persons, he had to wonder why the child was even here, at the bottom of this deep, underground hole, of all places. It made him curious; was the child's base located underground? He hadn't heard of an underground community before, but it might just be a new thing. It wouldn't surprise him if, in the future, humanity began migrating downwards, to abandon the surface brought by unfriendly environmental factors seemed like the logical choice. Besides, an underground base did sound safer – until the zombies begin to adapt, of course. He hoped his theory was true, as the towering moss-covered white pillars seemed to paint a positive picture.
After having thoroughly secured the gasmask on the child's face, even double-checking just to be extra sure, he sat on his hunches, mindful of his injuries, and tilted his head backwards to estimate how far he had fallen.
A dry chuckle slipped past his lips, devoid of any humour as he calculated the distance of his fall. Yeah, his survival had been a miracle. His ability, whilst quite strong, was useless without adequate nutrition in his system, as evidenced by his poor mana regeneration. In fact, he must've blackout whilst desperately trying to soften the fall using whatever was left of his magic.
With a shrug, he pushed those useless speculations aside. Rather than theorize, he'd rather prioritize his ongoing survival. Backpacks in their rightful place and the child secured on a hip, he carefully walked down the path he had previously spotted, mindful of his injuries and the darkness that greeted him.
Hopefully, his speculation of an underground base rang true. He needed to disinfect his wounds, wrap them up, and get some antibiotics in his system. It would suck if they turned septic.
As the minutes ticked by and they travelled deeper into the underground, he began to feel distinctly uncomfortable. For one, to have another living being so close to him, to have their head resting on his collarbone near his weak spots, was nerve-racking. Another worry was that he could feel hostile eyes on him. He discreetly fingered the hidden dagger up his sleeve, his footsteps softening until there was barely a sound. His wounded left shin screamed protests at the abuse, but he couldn't afford to think about the repercussions just yet, what with the killing intent he could feel directed at them.
"Howdy!" The overly cheerful voice, spoken from behind him, made him spring several steps forward for distance as cold sweat started to bead on his forehead. There was no way somebody could have sneaked by him – his senses were on full alert, yet they still managed. The speaker was no average joe, that was for certain.
With swiftness and adrenaline in his limbs, he turned to face the speaker... only to falter when he saw nobody in the darkness. There was only a flower in place, something that had previously gone unnoticed. Someone had even drawn a smiley face on the plant. He didn't know if it was a taunt or a warning. Before he could do anything but stare, the lips on the flower parted; completely shocking him into stillness.
"How strange, I've never seen you before." Its slightly masculine voice was child-like and its appearance harmless. However, he didn't live this long to be fooled by outward appearances. He kept his guard up as it tilted its head(?) innocently to one side. "Hey, you must be new to the underground. Someone ought to teach you how things work around here!"
If that didn't sound ominous, he didn't know what would. He shifted slightly to accommodate the child's weight better. It was better to prepare himself for combat if necessary, especially in the face of this... mutated plant thing. Was the zombie virus infecting plant life now, he had to wearily wonder.
"I'm Flowey, Flowey the flower!" Easy enough to remember, at the least. He was always so dreadful with names.
When the plant paused to take a breath, he took the chance to introduce himself, albeit warily. Perhaps he could do some information gathering whilst at it. "Dius. Is there an underground community down here?"
Flowey seemed to blink as if surprised by something before its cheery façade was back again. "Golly, aren't you a smart human! But since there's nobody else here right now, I guess little old me will have to play teacher. Ready? Here we go!"
His eyebrows wrinkled in confusion for a split second before his eyes widened in apparent horror behind his visor. He could feel invisible vines wrapped around on his core, his SOUL, along with a tugging and pulling sensation, and he tried to resist, oh he tried, but it was a futile effort. His weakened physical body and empty mana reserves did nothing to prevent his SOUL from leaping out from its protective shell.
He sucked in a lungful of filtered air, a hand flying to clutch at his chest. The pull had been rough, almost violent in nature. He felt bare and violated as he stared with dread at the pixelized heart that floated a few centimetres from his chest. It was an ugly little thing; cracked beyond repair with multiple fissures and scars on it. Its previously muted purple was now dim, near black, and the bottom tip of the heart frayed – a signed that he had overexerted his magic one too many times.
The precious cargo he carried shifted, their head perked as they too stared at his SOUL, but he didn't pay them any mind. He was too horrified to do anything but clutch the fabric of his chest tighter, fist trembling in barely concealed disgust and rage. His SOUL hadn't been that ugly the last he saw it... during his pre-apocalypse days. There were scars and cracks due to the wars he had lived through, but never have they been that deep, never that bad.
"... G-Golly, that, uh," Flowey stuttered minutely before his voice turned extra chirpy. "Oh, look! The tiny human is awake." The child, as well, had their SOUL pulled out by the muta- magical plant. It was probably an experiment from older mages that either escaped or was discarded.
Unlike him, the child's SOUL was breathtakingly beautiful. The floating pixelized heart was pure red in colour and shined brightly in the darkness. He could practically taste the magical power it emitted, which made his arm tighten on the mage child. His need to protect them from Flowey grew, as their worth has increased tenfold. Meeting another mage, even if they were immature and oblivious, has been far too long.
"See those hearts? They're your SOULs, the very culmination of your being! Your SOUL starts off weak but can grow strong if you gain a lot of LV. What's LV, you ask? Why, it's LOVE, of course! I'll share some with you! Here, in the Underground, LOVE is spread through little white friendliness pellets-"
He couldn't help it. He laughed, high pitched and deranged, abruptly enough that it cut off the magical plant from sprouting more bullshit. The child turned their head to stare at him with what he guessed could be surprised and unease, whilst Flowey seemed to falter, unsure of how to proceed as his laughter grew more manic as the seconds passed by.
When the last of his mad cackling finally stopped bouncing off the rocky walls, he pulled out the hidden dagger and pointed it at the flower. "Cut the crap. Your trickery may very well work on the mundane, but you must be daft to try it with me. I advise you to release our SOULs, Flowey, do not test my patience."
A second, two, before Flowey's face turned murderous, the cheerful façade dropped in favour of summoning white, magical bullets in the air. They surrounded the two mages, making the child on his hip whimper. As much as he wanted to reassure the child that he was a fully trained magus, he couldn't be distracted. The bullets soared through the air without a smidgeon of hesitation. The flower was dead set on killing them, even if the killing intent hadn't clued him on it.
He didn't hold back either. Kill or be killed, a familiar game he has often played since childhood. He jumped out of the way whilst throwing his dagger at the plant to gain the time to draw his pistol. The flower ducked into the dirt and reappeared a few centimetres away, magical bullets summoned yet again. Just as he flicked off the safety, a fireball flew over his head, the heat intense enough to build sweat on his back. It caused the plant to yelp and flee underground.
He twisted around whilst jumping backwards, wary of the newcomer. The child he was carrying seemed to perk up, a sigh of relief having left their lips, coming out muffled due to the gas mask. Either the newcomer was an ally, or they were the child's parent.
… Scratch that.
It was a humanoid goat wearing a dress.
Perhaps it was another magical experiment gone wrong? The mage who made them, whoever they were, he was beginning to question their sanity (was the creator of the goat and the flower the child's parent?). And since this child seemed to recognize the bipedal goat, it must also be a resident of this underground community.
Having already met one hostile resident, he wasn't keen to acquaint himself with another, no matter how friendly it appeared.