NOVEL NEXT 133 - Breaking Point
Summer mornings were not supposed to be this quiet, but the birds had long fled the curse, leaving early risers in silence. That day, Div was among them, although whether he should be was debatable, as he hadn't slept at all.
Instead, he had thought of countless scenarios in his head, of what he could do to get Dana out of trouble. But realistically, there was nothing he could do.
Emerios represented the might of the Kheironite army, and while the force stationed in Trabine was but a fraction of its total, it was more than enough to restrict two early-stage Evolved Ranks.
He had thought of fleeing, leaving the region entirely. Yet the army surrounding the hill was making that a tough option.
Div didn't think the path was completely closed, as the besieging army would benefit from defenders deserting, but he wasn't willing to take the risk. After all, a dead defender was even better than a deserter.
He stayed in bed for a long time, staring at the ceiling as light slowly filled the room. There had to be something he could do. But Dana had forbidden him from asking Terebus for help and barred him from seeking out Emerios himself.
He stood up, got dressed, and sat in front of their home. It was still early, but the warm rays of the sun were already warming up his skin as they brushed upon it. Perhaps the work of Emerios' magic.
Grimacing, Div retreated under the shadow of the oppidum's walls. He exhaled, avoiding the sun wasn't really an option, no matter how much it reminded him of his old clan.
His gaze caught Dana exiting the house. She smiled when she noticed him. Then, it faded. "I'm going."
"To Emerios?"
She nodded. "Well, he's not overseeing the experiments personally. But to his camp, yes."
"Will you be okay?" Div asked, even if he knew what she would answer.
"I will, Div, and I can count on you to patch me up if I'm not. Right?"
"Always."
Div spent the day processing fish into paste. After sunset, Dana returned, and he examined her with Chorus of Renewal. This routine continued for three days.
Three entire days during which he was throwing himself into rot with wild abandon to distract his mind. Three nights where he barely slept, guilt and fear gnawing at him.
Skill leveled up: Coax Rotlife Lv4 -> Lv5
Skill leveled up: Rot Magic Lv6 -> Lv7
Dana was holding on, day after day, but minor damages to her soul surfaced. It was almost nothing. All Div had to do was soothe the strain, help her relax. But if things kept going at this rate, she would soon start suffering real injuries.
Thankfully, Chorus was able to help. Even with Div's lack of knowledge over the soul, the skill was bridging the gap. The only price was the increasingly long time he had to spend in rotten trance. A price he would gladly pay to heal her.
The monotony broke on the fourth day, when Div closed the final barrel of the eastern cellar. He was done, and now he had nothing to keep his thoughts from drifting back to Dana.
He reported to Panos, asking if the elder had, by chance, another task to assign him. But there was nothing. The other cellars were untouched by rot.
The faint hope that, after seeing what he was capable of, they would let him apply Preserve on the rest of the food reserves was gone.
That evening, Div sat listlessly in the living room, waiting for Dana to come back. It was late. Later than usual. She should already have been back.
Then, the sound of someone pushing on the door's handle woke him up. He stood up.
"I'm back!" Gennorina said, smiling at Div as she stepped into the room. "I was so busy. You won't believe how hard we're being worked. Isn't that right, Suce?"
Div deflated as the earth spirit shaped his mana to signal agreement with its bonded druid.
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Gennorina immediately noticed his mood. "What? Is there a problem?"
Div sighed. "It's Dana. Emerios is looking for trouble."
He explained the situation to Gennorina.
"Is there really nothing we can do?" She asked.
Div shrugged helplessly.
A sharp knock, and the door creaked open again.
Dana stepped inside, her steps slow but steady. Her eyes scanned the room before settling on Div. She looked exhausted, worn.
"Hey," she said, her voice hoarse.
Div stepped closer. "You're late."
"I know. They kept me longer." She dropped her bag to the ground, rubbing her temples. "Some breakthrough. Or so they say."
He grabbed a chair. "Sit."
Dana didn't argue. That alone said enough. Normally, she'd brush off concern with a joke or a pointed remark—but now she just moved, limbs heavy, eyes distant. Div saw the way her fingers trembled slightly as she rubbed her temples, the effort it took just to stay upright. The silence between them stretched, dense and fragile. He hated it.
Gennorina watched the exchange in silence, her expression tight.
"What exactly are they doing to you?" She muttered.
Div didn't let her answer. He laid his hands on her shoulders and closed his eyes, letting Chorus of Renewal activate. The rot in his soul stirred, twisting into something soft. Reaching. Cleansing.
Skill leveled up: Chorus of Renewal Lv2 → Lv3
Dana exhaled sharply, as though releasing something she hadn't even known she was holding. "That feels better. Thank you."
But Div didn't smile. He felt the cracks. Those weren't there yesterday. Finer lines across the edges of her. The chorus could mend for now, but it was slowly bleeding into something irreversible.
He clenched his fists and pulled away. "This can't go on."
Dana's brow furrowed. "Div—"
"No," he cut her off. "You said not to talk to Terebus. You said not to go to Emerios. But I can't sit here watching you get hollowed out from the inside."
"Don't do anything reckless," she said.
"Div, listen to Dana," Gennorina added. "You're going to make things worse."
But he was already grabbing his coat.
He walked through the village, westward, where the Kheironite banners fluttered in the dying light. Requisitioned houses and warehouses. Bronze shimmered like fire in the camp. Rows of spears, lamellar armor, and disciplined silence.
Div's boots scuffed the dirt path as he approached the sentries. Two soldiers turned at once, shields raised just slightly. Not aggressive, but cautious.
"Halt," one of them barked, his helmet catching the last rays of the sun. "State your intent."
"I want to speak with Elder Emerios," Div said, his voice steady. "It's urgent."
The guards exchanged a look.
One stepped forward. "Name?"
"Div."
Another beat of silence. Then one of the guards nodded once. "The commander said you'd come."
Div's eyes narrowed. "He what?"
"Follow me."
The man turned without further explanation, and Div followed. The scent of oil and leather thickened as they crossed through lines of tents. The buildings of Trabine too few to house so many soldiers. Some trained in near silence under the watchful gaze of an officer.
Nobody seemed to care about his presence, though he supposed he was neither the first nor the last stranger to be escorted through the camp.
Div wasn't a stranger to the Kheironite military machine. Ruthlessly efficient, it had long cemented the dominance of the city-state over the coast. Now, it was deployed further north than ever.
At the center of the camp stood a mansion. Despite being made out of wood, it was clearly new.
The guard stopped. "He's inside."
Div didn't hesitate and stepped forward, only to be held back by the guard.
"I'll tell you when you can enter."
Div nodded, his heart beating hard.
The seconds stretched. The guard knocked on the heavy door. It opened, revealing a bald attendant. The guard whispered something, then the door closed again.
A faint breeze stirred the camp, carrying the metallic tang of blood and oil. Every muscle in Div's body was tense, wound tight by sleepless nights and anxiety.
He hated waiting. It reminded him of the day of his awakening, of his exile.
He wanted to pace, to move, to do something—but the camp wasn't his. Every step would be seen as a provocation.
Finally, after what felt like an hour but was probably just minutes, the door creaked open. The attendant reemerged.
"You may enter now."
Div walked through the threshold, every step deliberate. The interior of the mansion was far too luxurious for a war camp—imported marble fragments framed the floors, a map of the region was stretched across an entire wall, with small brass markers stabbed into it like wounds. The air was scented with burning spices.
And then, Emerios.
He stood behind a low desk made of dark lacquered wood, unarmored but no less imposing. The man was tall, his robe too pristine to be anything but ceremonial. His gaze was fixed on Div before the door had even closed.
"Diven… Or should I say Div?"
His voice was calm. Measured. Like someone who had practiced this conversation already.
"You were expecting me."
He chuckled.
"I was. Few things in this place can escape my attention."
Div exhaled slowly. "What do you want?"