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

Div turned back to watch Ilmara deflect a storm of fire and unleash an even greater one on the fire mage.

He put his hand in front of his face, shielding his eyes from the worst of the heat.

Then, he looked at Seriun planting his sword in the stomach of the last swordsman, the other already lying dead on the ground.

He was the only one who had failed.

The only one who needed help.

It wasn't that he lost—he won—but he'd been outclassed. The kind of helplessness where instincts break down, where you're not even a threat. Just a target waiting to die.

Thinking back to his Rotten Spear, capped at level 10, he shook his head.

He wasn't much of a fighter.

Even if his skills were powerful enough for Basic Rank, it wasn't enough to overcome the gap caused by evolution. Not without talent, something he sorely lacked in this field.

He needed to grow his Rot Magic, to reach evolution; otherwise, he would always be disadvantaged against stronger opponents. Of course, his magic made that, exceptions aside, he was sure to win if he landed a single hit.

But without Dana, he wouldn't have had the opportunity.

"You good?" Seriun tapped his shoulder.

Div sighed. "Yeah."

"Are you sure? You don't look the part."

Div looked down at his mangled chest. Blood was pouring out, bones were crushed, skin was ripped. Even breathing was painful.

"I'll be fine. My healing skill is better than my fighting."

"Don't talk yourself down," Dana said. "Your opponent was tricky. I didn't see him cast anything, yet he did."

Div shook his head. "No need. I should have seen through it."

Seeing Dana open her mouth, he channeled Chorus of Renewal to escape. He didn't want to hear it. He was still too weak. That fight had been a grim reminder of what could happen in war.

Death. It could be him or any of his friends.

A bad fight was all it took. An unexpected spell, a weird skill, an unfavorable matchup, it could go wrong so quickly. The frost mage had been on the cusp of victory, but a single arrow and a spear strike were enough to kill him.

The human body was fragile, no matter how evolved.

Div let his skill heal him enough so he could move. Staying at the battle site was ill-advised; reinforcements could arrive at any time.

He wasn't in top shape, but it would have to do. If he didn't rush, maybe he could even make the scar less visible.

Thankfully, he was the only one injured enough to require Chorus of Renewal. With Dana and Lepin's incidents fresh on his mind, he wasn't looking forward to using his skill on someone else again.

"By the way, Dana, did you learn anything from the library?"

She had asked about bloodlines; hopefully, there was some information he could use.

"Yes, but I still have a lot to read. If you have time, I think you should ask Oerix too. Reading it yourself is better than going off my interpretation."

Div nodded. "You're right."

The subject was complicated enough on its own. Maybe he would understand the text differently from her. They could compare notes after.

After walking for an hour, Seriun called for a break. "Let's stop here and make camp."

It wouldn't be much. Now that they were in range of the first scouting parties, they wouldn't light a fire and attract attention.

Sitting on the floor, they ate rudimentary dry rations as they discussed their next steps. The mountaineers' army would no doubt notice the loss of their scouting party. Fully Evolved Rank, even if it wasn't an elite squad, it wasn't fodder either.

"We better assume they're competent," Ilmara said, her voice echoing in everyone's ears. "They're serious. Their lord's transcendence is on the line."

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Seruin nodded. "Agreed. Which means our general position is compromised. We can expect more parties to come after us."

He looked at Div.

"Nothing in my senses' range for now."

"Good. Our orders are clear, we're looking for a sign of the main army coming north from Lepante. This party is such a sign, but it could also be a diversion. We need to keep searching."

"If we spot the army, it will mean their Ascended Ranks will have spotted us too."

"Not necessarily," Seriun argued. "Your Rotlife Sense has an unusually long range."

"Only because of the state of the forest."

"It fits our purpose. But still, you're not wrong that there's a huge risk involved."

Dana coughed. "May I?"

Seruin gestured at her to continue.

"There's an unspoken rule among Ascended Ranks not to interfere with scouts. Of course, it's not absolute, and the mountaineers could decide not to respect it, but I believe they will."

"Why would they?" Ilmara asked.

"Because acting would betray their presence. There's another layer being played out above our rank. We're scouting the army, Ascended Ranks are searching for each other. A single Ascended Rank has so much influence on the battlefield that finding out their presence and skillset to prepare countermeasures is a massive advantage."

Seriun frowned. "Doesn't that put us at a disadvantage? Surely, the mountaineers have done their due diligence on our elders who are sure to be defending Trabine."

"It does. But attacking a fortified position isn't that simple, and I suspect there are more Ascended Ranks in Trabine than we are aware of. Take Emerios, there's no way a legion is being led by a single Ascended Rank. Especially in Kheiron, the three clans wouldn't let the army fall under each other's command."

There were so many things Div didn't know. He'd never suspected it, but now that Dana spelled it out, it seemed obvious. After all, why would the Thesios clan, who were known for their military prowess, sit out the engagement at Trabine.

If it was as Divilina said, back in Bavacium, Trabine was one of three main theaters of this war, along with Camboaci and Kheiron. With Camboaci being out of reach for the Kheironite army, it wouldn't make sense for them to only deploy a single Ascended Rank there.

As the others settled into sleep, Div stayed awake, leaning against the coarse bark of a twisted tree. The cool wind bit through his half-healed wounds, but he didn't mind it.

The conversation replayed in his head, Dana's precise reasoning and Seriun's cautious assessments. Layers within layers—Ascended Ranks plotting behind the scenes.

What was the point of them being here if the fight would be decided by higher powers regardless of what they did?

Scouts like them were taking risks for seemingly no reason as politics shaped battlefields long before swords ever clashed.

How was he supposed to keep up with that?

He didn't want to keep up with that.

He wasn't even a chess piece, just the dust brushed from the board before the real game was played. And yet, here he was, hurting and bleeding for a battle he couldn't shape. What was the point of any of it if his choices and actions didn't matter?

All of this for one man to transcend…

Div closed his eyes and let his senses drift. Rotlife. His magic pulsed faintly, eager, responsive, teeming in his comrades' bodies much like in his own. It wasn't dangerous, not yet. But it had the potential. To kill or to heal. To destroy or to build. Decay or Renewal. Rot was both, and he was rot.

His inner world thrummed.

Rather, he wanted to be. He couldn't make the claim yet. His Facet of the Rot Mage was not even complete.

One more level to Rot Magic was all it would take.

Soon.

He didn't care about the clans. He didn't care about command structures, unspoken rules, or hidden Ascended Ranks. He wanted to learn magic. Rot magic. That was all. If the others wanted to play the game of politics and war…

Well, he would have to play along.

What other choice did he have?

He couldn't abandon his friends. Not after all they did for him when he was at his lowest.

Other than them, all he had was a magic most considered vile. Half a name that his family wouldn't even recognize.

Div chuckled bitterly to himself, then allowed the chorus to hum gently in his chest, knitting more of his ribs back into place. He closed his eyes, letting exhaustion take him.

The next morning, as dawn painted the sky a pale amber, Div opened his eyes, senses alert.

Something had changed.

He cast out Rotlife Sense, deep, far, pushing past the Lien River that was looping further south.

There.

Bodies. Thousands of them. A slow march north.

"The army," he said aloud, already moving to wake the others. "I found them."

The response was immediate. In minutes, they were packed and moving.

"Distance?" Seriun asked.

"Too close," Div answered. "A day, maybe less. They're headed straight for Trabine."

"Then we run."

And they did.

They ran like the forest itself was falling behind them. No fire, no rest, no sound beyond breath and boots and the occasional curse when a root snagged a foot or a branch clawed at a face.

Div kept scanning ahead and behind. No other scouts. No hint of Ascended Ranks. Just the long, steady heartbeat of the army marching behind them.

They wouldn't catch up. Of course they wouldn't. Four scouts moved a lot faster than an entire army on the march. But they didn't need to, for Trabine wasn't going anywhere.

As the oppidum of Trabine finally came into view, grey and grim against the breaking sky, Div felt his chest heave. Not in relief, but in worry at what was coming behind them.

He wasn't ready.

But he had seen the army.

And now, he was about to lock himself inside the very fortress the army would soon besiege.

It was his last chance to turn away. Flee into the Wildlands, west, where even Kheironite explorers rarely went. Past the curse, past the war.

Then he could focus on rot, on what he truly wanted to do.

He closed his eyes.

By the time he opened them, Dana was already crossing the southern gate.

He followed.