The little white dumpling fell down, stood up again, tried to learn how to transform, fell once more, and then sprawled on the ground refusing to get up like a petulant child.
An armored person approached—it was the War God.
The War God had chosen it to be his mount and would soon start their journey.
However, it hadn't yet mastered transformation, nor had it learned many other skills; it felt utterly useless, which depressed it even more. Its head drooped, with the corners of its eyes turning red, looking pitiful.
Even though the War God was decisive and fierce on the battlefield, a figure dread and sorrow, he was actually a very gentle person in daily life.
Gently, the War God lifted it up and caressed its tiny head, smiling as he asked, "My comrade, we haven't even set off and you've already lain down?"
"Wuu wuu wuu..."
"Why are you crying?" The War God grew a bit flustered, unsure of how to console the little cub.
