"Hey, buddy, eat up. Here, have some more."
Dark held gem-like feed in his hands, feeding the Undead Warhorses before him. Each gem contained a rich aura of death. These were the Undead Warhorses' favorite food, something they normally could not bear to feed them. They only offered them as rewards after repeated charges, to encourage them.
Stroking one and patting another, Dark was saying goodbye to these "good brothers."
Beside him, quite a few people were doing the same thing.
They were members of the Whip of Order Legion's Cavalry Battalion, saying farewell to their "comrades."
The Whip of Order Legion was about to leave the front and return to the rear, not for a temporary rest, but to leave the combat sequence and return to their original units. However, they could not take their equipment home.
Of these warhorses, for example, a small number that were wounded or old would be sent to the rear to recuperate. Most would be assigned to other legions to continue serving.
Quite a few people hugged their warhorses and armor, weeping bitterly. Anyone who had not experienced it themselves would struggle to understand the fierce reluctance to part and the outpouring of emotion;
the Cavalry Battalion was nothing compared to the Artillery Battalion. For days already, they had stopped sleeping in their tents and bedded down beside their Magic Crystal Cannons, kissing the muzzles over and over every day.
After finishing his farewells, Dark walked back. His wife, Lucy, stood waiting for him.
Dark's gait was noticeably stiff, because his newly fitted prosthetics still needed time to settle in and get used to.
Lucy's gaze fell on her husband's legs, and some of the feelings she had harbored eased at that moment.
Originally, she had opposed her husband's decision to get prosthetics.