A further search of the hall revealed nothing. If the Lich had anything valuable, it had been destroyed in his final attack against the creature. He rested a bit longer, enough to ensure that his Merged Spirit wasn't going to suddenly stop supporting him from its own exhaustion before starting the slow climb up and out the catacombs once and for all.
It was slow because his axe had grown too powerful to allow him to climb how he used to. Whenever he tried to lodge it in the wall it simply kept melting and slicing its way through the stone the second he put any weight on it. Instead, he had to make himself hand and foot holds all the way to the top, struggling to use the fine control required through his Spirit. Luckily, the muscle memory boost from his [Hafted] Skill seemed to apply to using his axe for this purpose as well and he quickly got used to the movements required to climb and swing his weapon above him at the same time. It was odd how his alleged 'muscle memory' applied to his Spirit too, but he wasn't complaining.
Eventually, he reached the top and clambered over the ledge. He got his first proper breath of fresh air and felt relief that he was no longer stuck down in the catacombs. A sudden rumble almost caused him to lose his balance and fall back into them, but luckily he caught himself before that could happen. The ground shook and the crevice began closing behind him, the ground swallowing it whole until all that was left to evidence its existence was a crack that ran down the length of the graveyard.
The undead that he had ran from on the first day of this apocalypse had all fled at the Limited Dungeon's closing, probably not even understanding what was going on due to their rotting brains. That gave him a little bit of peace to check the new notification that had popped up when he exited the catacombs for good, his reward.
[For clearing the Limited Dungeon - Sealed Phyris' Catacombs, you may choose one of the following rewards:
1. 5 Levels
2. Sceptre of Lich Bone
3. Ander Phyris' Journal of Fire Magic]
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
All of the options were great. The sceptre would further allow him to improve his axe when it was consumed, and the Levels would be a massive jump in immediate power, giving him 35 Attribute Points and an extra 10 each to his Vitality, Endurance and Willpower. However, it was the last one that truly caught his eye. He had just been given control over the Fire Mana his weapon generated, an ability that cost him its highest Tier bonus to acquire. Even learning just one spell would greatly enhance his arsenal and allow him to start studying how to use this new resource, let alone the Journal of a supposed prodigy.
Still, he weighed his options for a few moments before he finally decided, not needing to rush due to the absence of any hostile creatures. In the end, he went with his first instinct and chose the Journal since he valued its long term potential far more than any short term increase in strength.
When he made his choice the notification flashed, blinding him for a split second, and when he got his vision back he was holding his chosen prize. It was a leather bound book kept in pristine condition and bound by a braided string that wrapped around it twice. The pages looked thick like parchment and he imagined they would be rough to the touch if he had any sensation to feel that with.
He unwound it and flipped it open, only to see pages upon pages of complicated diagrams and long paragraphs of words in a language he couldn't understand. He wasn't disappointed, however, since he hoped this meant that it was valuable. If the journal hadn't been worth much then, to match up with the other rewards, it might've been translated into English but instead it remained in whatever elegant script the Phyris heir had used. The extra effort would be well worth it if that was the case and he looked forward to perusing its secrets.
Giving up for now, he rebound the book and carried it in his left hand, once again lamenting his lack of storage. That thought made him stop for a moment. Maybe there was a way to make himself some storage whilst also re-aquiring his dignity. With a strained flex of his Will, a slight bit of black mist leaked from his body and into the [Spirit of Protection] surrounding it, staining the energy black. Then he coaxed the shield into the form he wanted it, gently nudging it until it appeared as a robe of black cloth. He had sent the impression of being soft to the touch to it, but he had no way of knowing whether that had worked or not. The only other flaw with it was that it didn't sway with his movements, always remaining as if he were stood still and unaffected by any wind the blew past him.
He tucked his new notebook in one of the inner folds of his robes and he didn't need to worry about it falling out as he moved since his Spirit latches onto it and held it in place. Finally clothed again, and really enjoying the fresh air of the surface, he set off towards the exit of the cemetery axe in hand and ready for anything that got in his way.