Transmigrated as My Support Mage Avatar-Chapter 57: Ch: One Percent of Terror

Dila gritted her teeth. Her hand clenched into a shaky fist, pressed tightly against her aching side.

"What do you want this time?" she said sharply, eyes locked on the masked figure. Her breath trembled—but her voice didn’t.

"If you’re planning to take me again... I won’t go."

She took one step forward—but staggered.

"I’ll fight you... with whatever I have left."

Her knees buckled. Pain spiked through her ribs like a knife. A sharp gasp escaped her lips as she dropped to one knee, hand gripping her left side.

"Ghh—!"

"—Sister!" Fran spun around at the sound, eyes wide with panic.

She rushed to Dila’s side, not hesitating for a second.

Without asking, Fran knelt and slipped one arm under Dila’s knees, the other behind her back. In one smooth motion, she lifted her onto her small but steady back.

"Up you go," she whispered.

"Wait—Fran?" Dila blinked, surprised.

Fran crouched a little, carefully letting Dila rest over her like a piggyback, her arms hooked around Fran’s shoulders.

"I got you," she said, voice soft but firm.

"But you’re small..."

Fran smiled.

"You’re even smaller right now, Sister."

Dila went quiet, resting her cheek lightly on Fran’s shoulder, letting herself be held.

Ahead, the masked man tilted his head slightly, watching the scene unfold.

"Hm... sweet. Touching," he said dryly, crimson eyes narrowing.

"But do you really think friendship will save you?"

Sarios stepped forward, sword raised.

"No," he growled, his red eyes glowing brighter.

"But I will."

The masked man let out a slow, rising laugh that echoed eerily across the empty path.

"Muahahaha... So, you do want a rematch."

He stepped from the shadows, boots crunching against the dry earth as his crimson eyes gleamed beneath the moonlight.

"Last time, you fought like a twig," he mocked, raising his head to gaze at the dark moon above. "Hmm... let’s see... ah yes—I remember clearly."

His jagged, dual daggers emerged from the black mist behind him, glinting with a faint, corrupted aura. As if the night itself forged them.

"Your stance? Pathetic."

His voice twisted into a maniacal cackle.

"Muahahahah! Poor little hero... swinging your sacred sword like a toddler with a stick!"

Sarios’ grip on his sword tightened, his red eyes flaring.

"Shut up!" he barked, stepping forward, rage surging.

But then—

He froze.

His gaze swept the area... and a chill ran down his spine.

"...Wait. Why... why is there no one else around?"

Fran looked around too, eyes darting. The once-busy street they walked down just earlier—completely empty. No footsteps. No murmurs. No flickering windows. Just the cold whisper of wind.

That’s when the masked man grinned even wider.

"Oh? Noticed already, did you?"

He raised a hand and snapped his fingers.

"Veil of Silence. What did you expect?" he said with a mocking tilt of his head. "This place belongs to me now."

Sarios grit his teeth, his body tensing. "You... what did you do?"

The masked man just chuckled darkly, his shoulders shaking as if he could barely hold in his delight.

"Muahaha... this is a closed space, hero. No one will interrupt us. No guards. No watchers. No rescue. It’s just you... your trembling princess..." he tilted his head toward Fran, carrying Dila, "...and your limits."

He dragged one of his daggers slowly across the the air creating a dimensional cracks, sparks flying.

"Let’s see if your resolve is more than just talk this time."

Fran’s eyes darted side to side.

She turned, gripping her dagger tightly, and muttered, "S-Sis... where do we go now...?"

She reached out to the air and tapped at the edge of the space around them. It rippled—like water disturbed by a pebble—yet held firm.

A shimmer flickered across the invisible wall. Whatever surrounded them wasn’t just magic—it was absolute. A sealed veil.

Fran’s heart thudded louder. "A barrier...?"

But before she could ask again, she felt Dila shift behind her.

"Sis...?"

Dila’s head lowered, her silver hair shadowing her eyes.

Then softly—barely above a whisper—Dila murmured, "...I’m hungry."

Fran blinked.

"I... feel so cold..."

Her voice trembled. Her arms weak. Her weight against Fran’s back grew heavier.

Fran’s lips quivered. "W-Wait, sis, are you okay...?"

She turned to look at her sister’s face—but Dila didn’t respond. Her breath was shallow. Her lips had lost their color. That warmth in her usual dry sarcasm was... gone.

Fran’s hands clutched Dila’s arm, shaking it gently. "Sis...?"

Still no answer.

The masked man in the distance paused, his grin twitching slightly as he watched.

Fran’s chest tightened.

This wasn’t a joke.

Dila wasn’t pretending.

And something about that made her throat tighten.

"...Don’t you dare fall now," Fran whispered.

She held Dila’s hand tighter—like a scared little sister trying to hold back the night.

Meanwhile, Sarios gritted his teeth, his eyes locked onto the masked figure.

"Fight me!!" he roared, charging forward with full force. "Haaaaaaaaaa!"

The masked man casually turned his head.

With a blank expression, he lifted his pinky finger... and started cleaning his right ear.

As Sarios closed the distance, the masked man flicked the earwax off his finger and said with a sigh, "A Same old Sarios, same old. A hero with no plan but full charge. You’re adorable."

Clang!!

Sarios’ sacred sword slammed down—only to be blocked effortlessly by the masked man’s left dagger. The force sparked against the blade, sending showers of blue-white light across the barrier-locked field.

Yet despite the impact, the masked man’s hand didn’t even tremble.

Sarios, however, grunted. His arms shook under the strain. His sword vibrated violently in his grip.

"How do you... know my name?!" Sarios demanded, glaring up.

The masked man chuckled... and then, to Sarios’ horror, began mimicking voices.

"’Here comes Sarios!’ ’Wow, is that the Hero Knight Sarios?’" he sang in a mocking, dramatic voice. "You’re so loud it echoes through every damn kingdom. How could I not?"

He glanced back at his right hand again, inspecting his nails. "Hmph. This one’s uneven."

"You shut up!!" Sarios yelled, pulling back—

But in that moment, the masked man gave a casual flick of his dagger, sending Sarios staggering back several feet.

Sarios stumbled, barely keeping his balance. His breath caught.

That wasn’t even a full strike.

He looked at his own trembling hands.

"So strong..." he muttered.

The masked man tilted his head. "Strong?" he repeated, as if surprised. "You think that was strong?"

Then, with a smile hidden beneath the porcelain mask, he spoke slowly:

"That was just... one percent of my power."

Sarios’ heart nearly stopped.

"You’ve got to be kidding..." he whispered to himself, sweat beading down his temple.

This guy... can kill us in a single breath.

His mind raced, but his body stood frozen, gripped by the weight of sheer difference in strength.

The masked man tilted his head with an eerie grin.

"You want to see the real 1%?"

His voice cracked like thunder wrapped in laughter.

His smile stretched wider—unnatural, almost manic. Then—

He tossed both his black jagged daggers into the air with a shhk!

The weapons spun upward like twin fangs, vanishing in the moonlight above.

Fwoooosh!!

In an instant, his entire body dissolved into a swirling mist of black smoke.

Sarios’ eyes widened. "Where did—?!"

Too late.

Thud! A blur—behind him! He rotate and face him quickly but not fast enough.

"Hmph... crunchy."

A single punch landed directly on the chestplate of Sarios’ armor.

CLAAAANG!!

Sparks exploded as metal warped inward. A deep, precise fist mark was embedded—like a dent hammered by a god.

Before Sarios could react—

BAM!!

A second blow slammed into his gut.

WHUD!!

Then another—two fists in tandem. His body arched from the impact.

"Gahhhhkk—!!"

Sarios gasped, his eyes wide, mouth puffing air, as if he’d been struck by a siege cannon.

His sword dropped.

He staggered—then collapsed to one knee.

Then two.

And finally—flat on the ground.

Thud.

He coughed hard, face twisted in pain, his hands gripping the cracked earth.

"Im...possible..." he whispered, barely breathing.

His fingers clawed at the dirt, armor smoking from the dents.

From above, the daggers returned like obedient pets—shhk!—landing neatly back into the masked man’s gloved hands.

He didn’t even look at them.

He just smiled, gazing down at the fallen knight.

"Heroes," he said softly, with venom in every syllable, "are so fragile when reality hits."

He turned his masked face toward Dila and Fran.

"And now... shall we continue?"

"I guess... we’re not done yet."

But instead of moving forward—he stopped.

"Eh. Who needs these anymore?"

With a casual flick of his wrists, he hurled both daggers into the shadows behind him.

They spun once—twice—then vanished into the darkness like whispers swallowed by the night.

Shhhk—shhhk... gone.

He stepped forward.

His boots echoed softly against the cracked dirt of the Veil’s sealed ground.

Sarios tried to raise himself again—but the moment his gauntlet pressed the floor—

"Tch."

The masked man crouched down and grabbed Sarios by the hair, yanking his head up roughly.

"Grr—AARRHGH!"

Sarios winced hard, a growl of pain bursting through his clenched teeth.

His crimson eyes flickered with pain—but even more, shame.

The masked man leaned in, their faces inches apart.

"Still breathing?" he whispered with a cruel grin. "That armor’s not helping you much now, Sir Hero."

Sarios struggled, his fists trembling. "Y-You... bastard..."

But the masked man only chuckled again, his grip tightening.

"You know," he said casually, "I always thought the brave ones screamed the loudest when they fall..."

He then turned his head slightly—his glowing red eyes locking onto Dila.

"...Let’s see if your little support mage over there will scream just the same." but unfortunately his not planning to go that far to her.

Then He stood, still holding Sarios’ hair, and began dragging him across the ground—slowly—toward Dila and Fran.

The dirt scraped against the knight’s armor with a grinding sound, every pull forcing a grunt from Sarios’ throat.

Fran’s eyes widened. "S-Sister...!"

Dila clenched her staff that has always fizzled in her arm, barely standing. Her eyes flared.

But her mana...

Her mana was still 1.

The sourc𝗲 of this content is fre(e)novelkiss