Transmigrated as My Support Mage Avatar-Chapter 60: Ch: The Weight of One Choice

The masked man had paused mid-step.

His eyes—previously gleaming with mocking amusement—dimmed.

Then, in a low and drained voice, he muttered:

"...Enough."

His tone was dry, worn-out—

But cold.

"I’m tired of hearing it...

Hero this.

Protection that.

Honor, bravery, standing up... all that pathetic noise."

He tilted his head slowly, his crimson eyes flickering faintly under the mask’s shadow.

"You’re unbearable now," he said, voice rising. "A song that’s been played too long. A hero’s anthem that’s turned into noise."

His words sharpened like blades.

"It’s getting boring—"

"BORING MY ASS!" Sarios roared back, cutting him off.

The air trembled.

The masked man stopped—visibly taken aback by the interruption.

Sarios, bleeding, shaking, armor shattered, stood tall.

He pointed his sword—not for battle, but like a finger of truth.

"If it’s so boring, if you’re so tired of hearing us ’heroes’ talk..."

His voice cracked, but his spirit flared with fury.

"Then why haven’t you killed us yet? Why toy with people? Why play with their lives? Why make them suffer if you could just end it?!"

The masked man’s shoulders stiffened.

The sky dimmed.

A sudden blast of dark energy flared out around him—writhing like smoke, crackling with pressure.

Then—

He snapped.

"DO YOU THINK I KILL BECAUSE I WANT TO?!"

His voice erupted like a storm, rattling the ground beneath them.

"It’s because of that stupid rule—that foul, rotten law burned into my body!"

The masked man lifted both arms, a crimson aura erupting from his veins, laced with veins of black.

"The Eldor King’s divine command—that binding rule—prevents me from taking lives without cause."

His voice shook with rage.

"I am a killer born in war... turned into a leashed beast under a crown!"

His eyes blazed.

"And you dare say I choose this?"

He stepped forward.

"You DARE—?!"

Sarios gritted his teeth. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

His vision wobbled, but the fire in his eyes burned with stubborn rage.

And then!!

"HAAAAAA!"

He surged forward again, dragging his battered body into another reckless charge, gripping his sword in his left hand—his only arm that still obeyed him.

The masked man stood, unmoved.

Silent.

Almost... disappointed.

As the sword arced through the air, the masked man tilted left.

Fwoosh!

The blade missed by inches.

Sarios didn’t stop. He twisted, forcing the next swing with raw momentum.

But again—

Whoosh!

The masked man glided to the right, effortlessly evasive. A blur.

And then—

A fist drove straight into Sarios’ gut.

CRACK—!

His breath blasted out from his back like a pressure valve releasing steam.

His entire frame buckled.

His sword nearly slipped—his knees almost gave out—

But he didn’t fall.

"Ghhk—!"

Sarios coughed, blood splattering onto the stone pavement ground beneath him...

Yet his grip tightened. His stance wobbled.

But his eyes still burned.

"WAAAAH!"

He raised the sword again, screaming from his lungs, and swung once more.

The masked man didn’t respond.

No words.

No laughter this time.

Just calm, surgical dodges—tilting, stepping, weaving past every desperate blow like a shadow.

And then—

BAM!

A second punch—this time right into Sarios’ chest plate, right over the heart.

The armor dented another inward, metal crumpling like tinfoil.

Sarios’ body jerked. His eyes rolled white for a moment—

His mind blanked.

Everything stopped.

Silence.

A heartbeat later—he gasped, ragged and shallow.

His eyes flickered back to life.

His knees dropped slightly... but he forced them up again.

Shaking.

Shivering.

Still holding his sword.

Still fighting.

The masked man paused.

He tilted his head slowly, the eerie glow of his crimson eyes narrowing.

"...What are you?" he asked.

His voice wasn’t mocking now. It was low.

Puzzled.

A little angry.

"You’re human... and yet you rise like a roach that won’t die easily. Determined. Unknockable. Stupid."

He stepped forward, shadows rippling around his feet.

"Do you enjoy pain?"

Sarios didn’t answer.

He just spat out blood, and lifted his sword again.

Sarios screamed again.

"HAAAAAAAAA!"

He charged forward—bloodied, broken, dragging one leg, his sword trembling in his sole working hand. Every step was agony, but his feet didn’t stop. It was as if he had discarded every instinct of survival, fueled only by one desperate purpose:

To fight.

Even if it killed him.

The masked man exhaled, bored.

"...Tch. Just shut up already."

Flick.

A shimmer passed through the air—like a ripple in glass.

And then—he vanished.

"—!"

Sarios’ eyes widened in that moment of cold realization.

He sensed it—but too late.

FWOOOOM—

The masked man reappeared directly in front of him, rising from the shadow like a phantom.

A pale hand emerged first—ghostly, unnatural—and then his entire form surged into view.

Face unreadable.

Eyes glowing red like a pair of twin suns in a dead sky.

"Got you," he whispered.

SLAM!

He grabbed Sarios’ entire face with one hand—his fingers digging into his face like claws through clay.

Then—

BOOM!!!

He slammed Sarios down.

Into the earth.

The impact was devastating.

A violent shockwave burst outward as if a cannon had been fired point-blank. Dust, stone pavement shards erupted in a circular wave.

A crater formed beneath the hero, the floor splitting like broken glass.

Sarios’ body bounced from the raw force, then landed, twisted—face-first, limp—at the center of the crater.

His sword clattered beside him.

Blood pooled.

The people outside at the veil of silence feel something and than silent.

Even the air seemed to hold its breath.

And from across the field—

"SARIOS!!!"

Dila screamed, her voice cracking.

Her heart seized.

Her legs wanted to run—but her ribs screamed. Her mana was dry. She could only crawl forward—powerless.

Fran’s eyes widened in horror, tears forming.

The masked man stood over Sarios’ broken body, his back to the moonlight—his jagged silhouette framed like a demon in the pale glow.

He didn’t even laugh this time.

He just whispered.

"Annoying."

The masked man turned his cold, glowing crimson eyes toward Dila.

He took a slow, deliberate step.

And another.

Then pointed at the crater, at Sarios’ broken, unmoving body.

"Look what you’ve done."

His voice was low, sharp like a blade, heavy with disdain.

"If only you had followed me... when I infiltrated the castle of Exonory," he muttered. "If only you just came home like you were meant to—" His eyes narrowed. "—it didn’t have to come to this."

The masked man step back at Sarios.

Then—stomp!

"GAHH—!"

His foot crashed down onto Sarios’ back—not a hit of battle, but an act of humiliation, twisting him further into the dirt. Sarios’ unconscious body jolted.

Another stomp.

Another.

The armored hero’s body convulsed with each impact, twitching like a broken puppet.

Fran gasped in horror, frozen.

Dila... didn’t move.

But then—

Her lips quivered.

Her fingers dug into the gravel.

Her shoulders shook.

"...Stop," she whispered.

The masked man didn’t hear. Or didn’t care.

He raised his foot again.

"I SAID STOP!!"

Her voice cracked like thunder across the battlefield.

"That’s enough!!"

Tears streamed down her face as her breathing broke into sobs. Her body collapsed onto her elbows. Her eyes locked on Sarios’ battered form.

"No more... no more..." she cried.

Her voice turned softer, desperate. Like a frightened child.

"...Please..."

Her silver hair clung to her cheeks. Her eyes wide with grief and disbelief. Her lips trembled so hard she could barely speak. Her heart felt like it was tearing in half.

The masked man froze mid-step.

For a second... just a second, he stared at her. His hand twitched at his side. Something flickered behind those red eyes. Guilt? Recognition? Pity?

No.

Just silence.

Wind blew softly.

And Dila collapsed fully, screaming through her tears.

"You’re a monster...!"

The masked man paused, then chuckled softly—his voice like poison wrapped in silk.

"Monster?"

He tilted his head, his crimson eyes glinting beneath the mask.

"I like the sound of that, Princess."

He slowly placed a hand to his chest, theatrically bowing as if accepting a royal title. "You’re giving me quite the honor today. How noble of you."

With a quiet hum, he stepped over Sarios’ broken body, then—

Sat down on his back.

Sarios let out a muffled grunt as the weight crushed down on his damaged spine. Armor cracked faintly beneath the masked man’s boots.

The villain casually reached down and gripped the collar of Sarios’ armor—lifting him slightly by the neck like a limp animal.

Sarios gasped.

He couldn’t move. Could barely breathe.

The masked man’s fingers tightened.

Then... he looked at Dila.

Coldly. Calmly. Like a snake giving an ultimatum.

"So... what will it be?"

His voice was gentle. Almost too gentle.

"Will you come home... to your father?" he asked.

He tilted his head with an empty smile.

"Or should I keep squeezing?"

Sarios flinched, his breathing shallow.

Dila didn’t speak.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides.

Her heart thundered, pounding painfully.

Her mouth was dry. Her vision blurred.

She couldn’t look away.

Her body trembled.

Fran stared at her too—wide-eyed, afraid. Tears welled up again in the girl’s eyes.

Even she knew what this moment meant.

Dila’s lips moved—barely.

But no sound came out.

Her heart screamed.

Her body said no.

Her duty said yes.

She was frozen between them.

And the masked man smiled wider—like a devil tasting victory.

"Choose, Princess I’m waiting and I’m running out of patience here you know." calmly but cold.

His voice cut through the silence like a knife.

"Now."

This 𝓬ontent is taken from f(r)eeweb(n)ovel.𝒄𝒐𝙢