Rot Heart: A LitRPG of Rot Magic in an Ancient World (Book 1 completed)

"I sense something," Div said, raising his hand to stop his team as they advanced through the dead woods south of Trabine.

They had traveled for two days. Two days of silence and boredom. Two days during which Div wished he could return to studying rot magic.

But the mountaineer forces were marching north from the fallen village of Lepante, and they had to find them.

Naturally, Div, Dana, Ilmara, and Seriun were not the only scouts out there. There were dozens of them deployed in every direction.

"A small group of people. Five, maybe six," Div added as he interpreted the information Rotlife Sense was feeding him.

Skill leveled up: Rotlife Sense Lv3 -> Lv4

He felt the pulse in his chest. The subtle hum of rotlife flowing stronger now, clearer. The shapes of life flickered in his mind with more detail: the sluggish churn of a liver. It was still frustratingly imprecise, but the improvement was undeniable.

"Six."

The skill leveling up was enough to clear his doubts.

"Mountaineers?" Seriun asked.

Div frowned. "You'd think so. But I can't be sure."

He'd tried analysing the way they moved, their speed, the exact composition of their internal rotlife, but Rotlife Sense wasn't precise enough to conclude on their identities.

"Which way are they? Let's get closer."

Seriun was nominally in charge of the team. So far, he hadn't needed to exercise his authority. Now that potential enemies had been spotted, he stepped into his role, and the team followed his orders.

Div led them in the right direction until Ilmara's skill spotted them.

"Definitely mountaineers. I can hear them talking."

Unfortunately, she didn't speak their language and couldn't glean anything from the conversation.

"Distance?" Dana asked.

"If we keep walking this way, we'll run into them in about twenty minutes."

In the difficult landscape of the forest, it wasn't far at all.

Dana looked at Seriun. "Should we engage?"

"This isn't the army we're looking for. Potentially a scouting party like ours. We should act with the assumption that they've spotted us," Seriun started while tapping the hilt of his sword. "We can't go back, but we don't want them to pass behind us. We should engage."

Div frowned. "Can we win?"

"We're all Evolved Rank. We can never be certain, but this is war. Our mission requires us to fight here."

"Alright," Div sighed. "I'll follow your orders."

Dana patted his shoulder. "Don't worry. Out of all of us, you're the most durable."

Div shook his head. Knowing that didn't prevent him from fearing for her life. In a way, it was worse than if he were just risking himself.

Seriun made them check their weapons, and they moved out. Trying to ambush the scouting party was futile; they would expect it.

This made Div realize he was actually quite suited to being a scout. It hadn't been his intention nor something he trained deliberately, but between Rotlife Sense, Trap Detection, and Blighted Passage, he had many tools to be competent in that line of work.

They were too far for him to start weaving his Turn spell, but since he could sense the enemies' rotlife, he could prepare how to best cast it. It wasn't perfect, as he would have to adjust for actual mana flows, but it would save him some precious time.

With both parties rushing toward each other, it didn't take long for them to make contact. Seriun and Dana's perception skills caught wind of them, the archer stopping to ready an arrow.

Dry branches cracked beneath their boots. The air smelled of dust and bark, sharp with the sting of dried sap. Shadows shifted in the low canopy, the pale light shining through the dead trees turning every movement into a threat.

"Two mages, two archers, and two swordsmen," she announced. "All Evolved Ranks.

Div agreed silently. This was the strongest lineup he had faced yet. But Seriun was right. It was a war, and they had to win it.

He was ready.

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"Casting."

His first target was one of the archers. He would rather not have to worry about being hit by an arrow as he fought the swordsmen. The mages posed the same threat but would be more adept at resisting his magic.

With his preparations, it only took a moment for him to cast his first spell.

He was about to start with a second when Ilmara stopped him.

"I got this."

A flash of echo-attuned mana came from her, and Div was astonished as he understood what she did. The second archer was hit by an exact copy of the spell he had just cast.

"Can you do it again?"

Ilmara shook her head as she grasped her spear. "I already spent most of the attuned mana in my Uepi feather. I need to wait for it to recover."

Div was reminded of the luxury his Rot Heart offered him. He had never once run out of mana. Granted, rot-attuned mana was a lot more common than echo-attuned mana, but it was still making an appreciable difference.

Turn wasn't enough to completely disable the Evolved Rank archers. However, it proved enough of a distraction for them to forget about Dana and the two arrows she fired at their neck.

Two enemies down.

Now alert to his magic, the mages flooded their surroundings with mana, making it too difficult for Div to cast another Turn.

Furthermore, they had just finished crossing the distance separating them.

Div, Ilmara, and Seriun took the frontline as Dana was on the lookout for an opportunity to lodge another arrow in the mountaineers' bodies.

"Take the mages! I'll hold the swordsmen down," Seriun instructed.

"Two against one?" Div asked.

"I got this, don't worry."

"But—"

Ilmara interrupted. "This is Seriun's specialty. He'll be fine."

Div wasn't going to argue. He reminded himself he was on a battlefield; he had better things to do. Instead, he locked onto the two mages.

"Which one do you want?" He asked.

Ilmara started at the two opposing mages. Like any practitioner of the arcane worth their while, they were not merely wielding magic but also weapons. "The one with the halberd seems to be a frost mage, while the spearman smells like a fire user."

"Neither are good match-ups for me," Div said.

"Then I'm taking the fire mage. Once my mana recovers, he's dead."

It left Div with the halberd-wielding frost mage. Div stepped forward, spear and shield ready. The man looked out of place with his heavy armor and two-handed weapon.

He didn't look like a scout.

His face was obstructed by his metallic helmet.

Div moved, shield raised, spear low. His feet crunched on brittle leaves, but everything felt off.

His limbs were heavy. Breath, shallow. His thoughts came slow, as if half asleep. He blinked, trying to focus, but the haze clung to him.

Was he already tired? He hadn't cast much yet. Hadn't even fought. Through Trap Detection, he could feel something was wrong, but it wasn't blasting his mind with the usual urgency. This time, it was different, more subtle.

Then the halberd came.

The man lunged like a thunderclap. One moment, he was still. The next, his weapon was falling onto Div.

Div tried to move. But the man was too fast. He didn't even have time to use Blighted Passage. The halberd crashed into his chest. His shield was too late to block. The blow knocked him back, armor crunching, skin and muscles tearing around a newly formed gash.

He hit the ground hard.

For a heartbeat, the forest vanished. No sound, no pain. Then came the avalanche: pain flooding, every rib in his chest screaming with the weight of that blow.

Pain shot through his body. His hands trembled as he pushed himself up, one knee collapsing before he could stand. The air around him was too dense, too heavy. His vision blurred at the edges.

The frost mage didn't follow aggressively—he didn't need to. Another swing came, wide and deliberate. Div threw himself sideways, barely dodging. The weapon howled past, grazing his shoulder. A second later, another slash nearly clipped his leg.

How was he so fast? Was the mage close to ascension? His inspection skill didn't return any valuable information.

He tried to weave Turn. It fizzled. Not because he lacked mana—he had plenty. But he couldn't thread the spell fast enough.

He planted his spear in the ground, using it to prop himself up. The mage raised his halberd again. Div watched it rise, watched it hang for a half-second, and realized he couldn't move fast enough to dodge this one.

His world slowed down as the blade came down toward him, threatening to split him in half.

That was it.

In his last moments, he thought of En. He'd been so eager when separating from his brother. He was going to master rot magic, show him that he had been wrong for rejecting their bloodline-granted power.

But now, he was going to die. He couldn't even put up a fight. The halberd-wielding warrior was just too strong for him.

What a pathetic performance.

Then a sound split the air.

A thunk.

The halberd jerked sideways. The mage staggered. An arrow jutted from the side of his arm, buried deep where the metal dented inward.

And like that, the world snapped back into motion.

Div gasped.

Everything felt sharper. Crisper. His limbs moved cleanly. His thoughts returned to him with full clarity.

It hadn't been exhaustion.

It had been magic.

The realization hit like a slap. He hadn't seen it coming. There had been no spellcasting, no cues, no frost. But the magic had been there the whole time, wrapping around his senses.

Feeling the sharp pain of the gash in his chest, he heaved. It wasn't the mage that was fast, it was he who had been slowed down by a frost magic spell he couldn't detect.

The arrow had shattered the spell. Or at least shaken the mage enough for it to slip.

Div didn't waste the moment. He surged forward. The mage tried to recover, halberd rising too late. Div's spear rammed into the gap under his arm. Rot flared through the wound.

The man screamed and collapsed.

Div ripped the spear free and stumbled back, chest aching, his leather armor smeared with blood.

He turned just in time to see Dana lower her bow.

They didn't need to say a word.

She understood his thankful gaze, and he got her relieved stare.

He was alive.

Skill leveled up: Trap Detection Lv8 -> Lv9