Transmigrated as My Support Mage Avatar

As the afternoon sun dipped lower, casting warm orange rays across the training yard, the clangs of steel finally came to a halt.

The knights packed up, the squires stretched their sore backs, and Sarios—drenched in sweat—slumped down onto a side bench, wiping his brow.

Dila, dressed as usual in her royal-esque gown and straw hat, strolled over with a casual sway. While she has had a round two juice cup in hand, she stopped in front of him.

"Hey, hero," she said plainly.

Sarios looked up, catching his breath. "You can call me Sarios, actually. No need for the ’hero’ thing—at least."

Dila blinked, deadpan. "...Yeah, okay."

Then she sat beside him, crossing her legs in a very un-princess-like fashion. "Sarios, can I ask something weird?"

"Sure," he said, tilting his head.

"I wanna know my real full stats."

Sarios paused, blinking. "Huh? Stats?"

"You know," she twirled a finger dramatically in the air. "Like in games. HP, MP, INT, STR, Luck points, and how broken my sass stat is."