He's never met a fellow undead person.

Not one who mirrors his story, a young person left to the cruel hands of an enemy and paying the price. You're like him, a bird with broken wings, crying out in confusion when you find yourself unable to fly. He knows what that's like, the feeling of the pit sinking into his bones and the deep realization that he would not be the same again.

And he didn't expect to meet a fellow undead person like this.

At the end of your blade, looking up at you. To fight the funhouse mirror version of himself, this twisted version of who he could've been.

"Let me help you." He's trying to sound as sympathetic as he is through the voice modulator of his helmet.