Transmigrated as My Support Mage Avatar-Chapter 62: Ch: The Silence That Follows

The moon hung high in the ink-black sky—silent, cold, and watching.

A soft wind drifted through the empty village streets of Exonory. Lanterns swayed gently on their hooks, casting faint golden flickers on the cobbled ground. The air was still, the kind of stillness that only came after something terrible had passed. No voices. No footsteps. Not even the rustling of animals.

Just... silence.

In the middle of the darkened road, a bruised figure shifted.

"Ahhhkk..."

Sarios groaned, his voice barely more than a breath. His gauntlet scraped against the stone as he crawled, dragging his broken body forward. Blood matted his black hair, dried and crusted near his temple. His once-polished armor was now dented, cracked—unrecognizable. Plates bent in awkward angles, some torn clean off. The red cape behind him had long been shredded.

He winced as his muscles screamed with every movement, but he kept going—inch by inch.

The veil of silence, the dark barrier that had swallowed the area, had lifted an hour ago. But it was too late. No one came. No one knew. The battle had ended long before Exonory even realized.

Now only the stillness of midnight remained.

Sarios gritted his teeth and pushed himself upright, one hand bracing against a wall of a closed bakery. His other arm hung limp—bruised black and blue. He coughed, a string of blood trailing from his lips.

His voice cracked.

"Wh... where...?"

He gasped.

Then it hit him.

"...Dila..."

His pupils shrank.

His legs shook as he stood, barely keeping himself from collapsing again. The cold wind whispered through his torn cape, and his breath puffed out visibly in the night.

"Where is she...?" he whispered.

No answer.

Only silence.

He looked down at the blood on his hands—his, hers, Fran’s? He didn’t know anymore.

He turned his gaze toward where the scene happened. They are gone. The masked man—gone.

And so was she.

He clenched his teeth. His lips trembled. And as the pain surged through his ribs and broken joints—

"ARGHHHH!!"

He cried out into the empty village.

A lone scream swallowed by the night.

He fell to his knees again, gasping, trembling. His voice broke with sobs as he muttered:

"...why... why did I fail her...?"

The moon offered no comfort.

Just cold light.

And the stillness of a hero left behind.

Sarios stumbled forward, each step scraping his ruined boots against the cold cobblestones. His breath came in shallow gasps, and every movement stabbed through his chest like knives. Blood trickled from a cut above his brow, dripping onto the street.

He winced and muttered through clenched teeth,

"The castle... it’s still so far..."

He dragged his heavy legs, the pain pulsing through every fiber of his bruised body.

"Arggh... this still hurt even more..."

His left arm was still barely functioning, but he reached shakily into the battered pouch hanging under his bent chest plate. His fingers fumbled, feeling past shattered things, broken glass, until—

Click.

He found it.

A green ruinstone, still faintly glowing with travel runes, smooth and oval like river jade.

The same one he and Dila used to reach the village just hours before—when things were still calm. When she was still safe.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry and aching.

He closed his eyes and said hoarsely,

"Te.. Te....Teleport... to Exonory Castle..."

The runes ignited in his hand, slowly glowing brighter. Then came the familiar hum.

A light pulse spread through the street, warping the air around him.

He gasped one last breath—

And in a flash of green light, he vanished.

■••••

A sudden flash of green light illuminated the training grounds of Exonory Castle.

Sarios dropped to one knee as he materialized—his body sagging, exhausted, bloodied, and broken. The grass beneath him bent under the weight of his armor, which was now more dented metal than polished plate. His right arm hung uselessly, trembling as he tried to steady himself with his remaining strength.

"Ugh—ahhh... I really can’t... walk any further..."

His voice was hoarse, barely louder than a whisper.

He clenched his left hand—his only working one now—over his ribs, teeth gritted. Blood seeped between his fingers, soaking into the fabric of what was once a regal black undershirt beneath the shattered armor.

The air around him was cold and still, with the moon hanging silently above like a watchful eye. The familiar clang of training swords and soldiers shouting drills was gone, replaced by the subtle wind whispering through the flags.

Suddenly—

"There!!"

One of the Exonory royal guards called out from the distance, pointing toward the flicker of green light.

Dozens of soldiers had been sweeping the grounds and nearby smallest forest trees edges for hours. Their torches bobbed like fireflies in the distance, voices tired but urgent.

"He’s here—Hurry!!"

Sarios collapsed to both knees as his vision blurred.

Boots stomped against stone. Armor clinked. The guards surrounded him.

"Oh gods—Sir Sarios?!"

"Get the medic! He’s bleeding badly—!"

"Where’s the Princess? Where’s Lady Dila?!"

Their voices blended, some frantic, some stunned, as they tried to lift him.

But Sarios could barely speak.

He looked up at the night sky, stars blurry through his swollen eyes.

A whisper escaped his lips—

"...They took her..."

And then—

Darkness.

Meanwhile...

The carriage creaked gently as it rolled over the worn cobbled road beneath the silver glow of the moon. Outside, the cold wind whispered across over outside of the kingdom giant walls and distance at the Exonory farmlands—but inside the carriage, a quiet warmth filled the space.

Dila sat near the cushioned edge, her back leaning gently against the velvety lining of the royal carriage wall. Her bandaged ribs ached faintly with each breath, but her attention wasn’t on herself.

Fran rested quietly beside her—half-asleep, half-exhausted—still clutching tightly to Dila’s side like a frightened child refusing to let go. Her small arms were wrapped around Dila’s waist, her face buried slightly into her robes.

Dila slowly ran her fingers through Fran’s soft dark-blue hair, gently caressing it with slow, comforting strokes.

She whispered faintly, almost like a promise to the wind,

"...Everything will be okay... I won’t let anything happen to you."

Fran let out a sleepy little sigh, still holding onto her like a safety blanket. Her ears twitched faintly, and she whispered in her sleep,

"...sister..."

Dila’s lips curved into a bittersweet smile.

Outside the window slit, the night passed quietly.

The wheels rolled. The stars shimmered.

And far up front—on the driver’s perch of the carriage—the masked man sat alone, reins in hand.

He drove in silence. His crimson eyes stared into the long road ahead, one hand resting near the blade hidden at his side.

Though the inside was fit for royalty—with polished oak, golden lining, and velvet cushions—the tension in the air was unspoken.

A calm before something deeper.

And Dila, watching Fran’s peaceful sleeping face, whispered again, only to herself this time—

"...Seriously this world is broken even i don’t have a kingdom, or Castle and Father they always forced me to have it, this is stupid beyond belief..."

As Inside the dim-lit carriage, the wheels continued their quiet rhythm.

Dila leaned slightly forward, her fingers still gently curled around Fran’s sleeping form. Her gaze dropped to the floor, tired and dim.

"Nari..." she whispered silently in her mind,

"...are you there?"

For a moment, nothing.

And then—

☆ I’m here, Master... ☆

Nari’s voice echoed faintly, more timid than ever—like a soft whisper in a storm.

☆ I... I’m sorry... I couldn’t help. I tried, I really did... but there was nothing I could do in those moments. I—I failed you... ☆

Dila’s brows drew together slightly as her breath hitched. She coughed softly into her sleeve, a faint trace of blood dotting the fabric.

"...Then why were you so quiet?" she thought back, voice flat in her mind.

"You always talk. You’re always there. Why did you vanish when I needed you most?"

☆ I didn’t vanish... I was just... useless. ☆

There was a long pause.

☆ I’m sorry if I’ve only been a burden to you... Master. ☆

Dila’s chest tightened. She didn’t respond immediately.

She just closed her eyes for a moment, her head leaning back against the velvet seat, her other arm curled protectively around Fran.

Then, a voice broke the stillness.

"...Are you feeling okay back there?" the masked man asked. His tone was low and even, with none of the cruelty from earlier.

Dila’s eyes opened halfway. Her voice came out dry, brittle.

"Who are you... to comfort me now?"

The masked man paused. His eyes, visible through the holes in the porcelain mask, looked briefly over his shoulder toward her—but he said nothing.

Only silence returned.

He turned forward again, reins steady in hand, as the carriage continued down the moonlit road.

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