Transmigrated as My Support Mage Avatar-Chapter 68: Ch: The Gate of Truth

The carriage slowed to a halt.

Before them stood the final gate—no guards, no weapons, no guardsmen in gleaming armor. Only a towering wall of pure radiant magic, carved with intricate silver-blue elven runes that pulsed like a heartbeat. The very air grew heavy. Each breath felt like dragging your lungs through water.

Dila stared.

The door shimmered—not like light on water, but like a living presence watching back. Its overwhelming pressure made the wooden wheels of the carriage creak slightly from just being near it.

☆ Warning: Magical pressure detected... This barrier is unlike any I’ve recorded, Master. Its intensity is off the charts. I cannot properly gauge it. It’s... immense. ☆

Dila’s fingers twitched.

"Nari?" she whispered, narrowing her eyes. "It’s that powerful?"

☆ Yes, Master. Even I can feel it trying to suppress me just by being nearby...☆

Dila exhaled slowly, staring up at the glowing runes with narrowed eyes.

And then came that familiar, smug voice in front of the driver seat in the carriage.

"Still don’t believe you’re royalty?" the masked man said, hopping lightly down from the driver’s perch. He walked over to stand just beside the edge of the magical threshold. His eyes—crimson and playful—peered at Dila from under his mask. "Then I have a simple little game for you."

Dila glanced at him cautiously.

He smiled beneath his mask. You could see it in the curve of his cheek and the shimmer in his eye.

"Touch the gate."

She blinked.

"If you’re truly the daughter of King Albedo," he continued, gesturing dramatically at the towering barrier of power, "then it’ll accept you. The magic will dissolve before your hand."

He leaned forward ever so slightly.

"But if you’re not... it’ll reject you completely. And when I say reject, I mean—ahh—obliterate you."

Dila’s jaw clenched. "What kind of twisted second option is that?"

The masked man simply laughed.

"Life’s full of fun risks, isn’t it?"

His voice was light. Teasing. But there was something very real behind it—a test not just of magic, but of identity. Of fate.

Fran instantly stepped in front of Dila, eyes fierce. "You can’t just kill her to prove something!"

"I’m not the one making the rules," the masked man said calmly. "The door is. I’m just... facilitating truth."

Dila looked up at the magical gate again. Her hand twitched by her side. Her heart pounded like war drums in her ears.

And then she took a breath.

Silent.

Heavy.

Uncertain.

She stepped forward.

The world held its breath.

And then, As the carriage door creaked open, the morning light spilled across the path, shimmering in harmony with the glowing magical barrier that towered ahead. The silver runes danced faintly in the air like floating threads of wind-blown light.

Dila stared at it, frozen in place. Her eyes narrowed as thoughts spiraled in her head.

Should I touch it...? If it really kills me like he said...

☆ I advise you not to touch it, Master... ☆

Nari’s voice echoed gently in her mind, filled with concern. ☆ Even I can’t calculate what kind of spell it is. If it’s meant to protect royalty, it might react—but if it’s cursed against impostors... we just don’t know. Please, be careful. ☆

Dila clenched her hands at her sides, her breath shallow. She wasn’t scared of death. She was scared of the unknown. Of the truth that might follow.

Fran gently grabbed her sleeve.

"Sister? Are you okay?" Her voice was quiet, shaky, her cat ears twitching slightly. "You spaced out again..."

Dila blinked out of her trance, glancing down at Fran. Then she forced a small breath and nodded.

"I’m fine."

Her voice was soft, but it didn’t sound like herself.

With slow, tense steps, both girls descended from the carriage. The ground beneath them felt strange—almost like the road was humming. Alive. Responding to their presence. Even the breeze seemed to carry whispers too faint to understand.

The masked man stepped off the front of the carriage with a light hop, his black cloak brushing the air behind him. He dusted his shoulder casually, walking a few paces forward until he stood between them and the magical door.

He turned to face them, arms crossed, red eyes gleaming.

"Well then, Princess," he said, calm and amused, "shall we find out who you really are?"

Dila didn’t answer yet. Her eyes were still fixed on the glowing gate. The silence grew thick.

Fran reached out again, this time holding Dila’s hand.

No words were needed.

Only the sound of the gate’s magic pulsing... and the weight of one choice.

After a few minutes.

The masked man tilted his head and let out a long, exaggerated sigh.

"Are we really just standing here all day, hmm?" he muttered, his tone smug, almost bored, as he stared at the glowing gate before them.

Dila’s sharp voice cut through the air like a blade.

"Shut up, old fart. I will not just touch it," she snapped, her eyes narrowed with defiance. "I can’t guarantee what will happen—and honestly, I’m starting to think I’ll never get my life back."

Her words hung heavy in the air, her voice trembling not from fear, but from a storm of buried exhaustion and resentment.

The masked man simply chuckled, shoulders shaking with amusement.

"Woahhh... hehehehe... fiesty, As usual not bad." he said, drawing the word out with glee. "It never gets old, hahahahah!"

He threw his head back, laughing loudly as if this entire moment were nothing more than a game.

Dila didn’t flinch. She stood her ground, lips tight, fury in her eyes, her heart pounding louder than the sound of his laughter. And beside her, Fran tensed, watching them both in silence.

The gate pulsed softly behind them, waiting.

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Then, without warning, the masked man finally snapped.

In one swift movement, faster than anyone could react, Fran was no longer by Dila’s side. Her small frame was lifted off the ground—clutched by the masked man’s arm like a doll held hostage.

"W-Wha—!?" Fran gasped, squirming as panic surged into her voice. "S-Sister! Help me!"

Her ears flattened, tail trembling, feet kicking helplessly in the air.

The masked man stood with his back now turned toward the magical gate, holding Fran with one arm as if she weighed nothing. His voice dripped with mockery, low and smug.

Dila shouted with anger when she suddenly noticed fran has gone out of her side."GIVE HER BACK!!"

"Nope," he said casually. "Make me. Hahahaha!"

Dila’s eyes now widened. "You—!" she shouted again. "I said Give her back!"

The masked man just chuckled, his shoulders shaking. "Oh? What’s wrong, Princess? Can’t handle a little motivation?" he taunted, tilting his masked face to the side. "I said make me, hahaha!"

Dila’s breath hitched. Her vision sharpened, but the colors around her began to feel like they bled together. The gentle hum of magic from the gate behind her felt distant now, like it was being drowned by a storm inside her chest.

Her hand clenched into a trembling fist at her side, veins taut. Her face darkened—no longer just annoyed or furious, but something beyond rage. The wind around her skirt began to stir unnaturally, reacting to the boiling tension of mana waking deep within.

"I said..." she whispered, voice low and cold.

The masked man paused, his grin hidden—but his body tensed.

Dila slowly raised her head, her eyes now glowing with a burning blue spark, flickering like starlight in fury.

"Give. Her. Back."

But the masked man only grinned wider behind the mask. He bent forward slightly, gripping Fran tighter as if to show he wasn’t bluffing.

"I said... " he whispered back, tauntingly slow.

"M..A..K..E Make me."

Their power clashed in the air before any magic was cast—like a storm cloud waiting to explode. The moment held its breath.

Suddenly.

As the masked man blinked—just for a fraction of a second—he saw nothing but the rush of blue light racing toward him.

Dila had already leapt into the air, her body arched backward, hair flaring like silver fire behind her. Her right hand burned, blazing with searing blue energy, the raw mana forming around her fist like a comet. Her eyes were locked on target, face cold and determined. She didn’t scream. She didn’t hesitate.

And in that instant...

The world slowed.

The masked man’s eyes widened slightly behind the mask.

"Tch—!"

He twisted his neck just in time, barely dodging her fist. With the same momentum, he jumped backward—still clutching Fran—but this time shielding her body carefully with his own. Despite everything, he didn’t let her get hurt.

But Dila’s attack didn’t stop.

Her punch—unstoppable now—landed directly on the magical barrier gate behind them.

A shattering sound exploded through the entire plaza.

Like crystal meeting a hammer, the majestic gate splintered in a blinding burst of energy. Arcane lines cracked and curled away from the center, then with a thunderous BOOM, the entire structure detonated, sending out a shockwave that kicked dust and magic pressure across the courtyard. The tremor echoed into the distance.

Fran fell to the ground, rolling once and coughing, but alive.

The masked man stood in place, blinking as he lowered his arm that had shielded his mask. "Well... that was close," he said with a low whistle, his tone both impressed and amused.

Dila stood silently, chest rising and falling hard, her glowing fist now dimming. Her expression... shaken, eyes wide as if unsure what had just happened.

Inside her mind, a voice returned—gentle, soft.

☆ Master... power has been partially unlocked... ☆

☆ It’s from the Berserker-type character class... recorded as: "Berserk Fury." ☆

Dila’s eyes widened, still catching her breath. The power coursing through her arm was fading, but the warmth in her chest was new—frightening, yet somehow familiar. She had no idea how... but something inside her had changed. Something that couldn’t be taken back.

And behind her, where the gate once stood... only glowing shards of magic now floated, like broken stars in the morning sun.

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