He simply gripped the short staff more tightly and continued to wait for dawn.
During the latter half of the night, Matthew fell into a shallow dream.
In the dream, he returned to the main burial chamber.
In the center, that massive empty sarcophagus stood open in silence.
The bottom of the sarcophagus was empty.
It was so empty it looked clean.
Empty as if nothing had ever lain there.
But when he looked down, he discovered that within the humanoid indentation at the bottom of the sarcophagus, someone was already lying there.
That person had their back to him.
Their figure was somewhat familiar.
Matthew wanted to retreat.
But in the dream, he couldn't move.
The next moment, the person in the sarcophagus slowly turned their head.
It wasn't Noel.
It wasn't Sutton.
It wasn't Herbert, either.
It was Matthew himself.
“You will come back,” the Matthew in the sarcophagus said.
Matthew snapped his eyes open.
Outside the shallow pit, the sky had already begun to turn a faint grayish-white.
His forehead was covered in cold sweat.
The wound on his palm had split slightly from the force of his grip, and blood had seeped through the cloth strips again.
Matthew looked down at his shadow.
The morning light was very dim, and the shadow was very faint.
It lay quietly on the ground, neither distorted nor being pulled into the distance.
Yet Matthew’s expression remained grim.
He didn't know if that was just a nightmare or a lingering influence from the empty sarcophagus.
Maybe his nerves were just too high-strung.
Maybe they weren't.
Regardless, he couldn't stay here any longer.
Matthew quickly packed his things.
He did his best to erase all traces of his presence, using branches to sweep away the footprints near the entrance of the shallow pit before finally leaving and heading toward the outskirts of the mountain forest.
He didn't choose to return toward the original entrance of the tomb.
Nor did he go looking for Sutton and Herbert.
What he needed to do most right now was to get away from here.
The further, the better.
After walking for a distance, Matthew suddenly stopped.
The map in his mind was still there.
However, the parts related to the tomb had become much more blurred.
The location of the main burial chamber had completely turned into a black dot.
And the exit of the crack he had escaped from was fading bit by bit, like burning embers turning to ash.
This made Matthew’s heart sink slightly.
The map wasn't permanently stable.
At the very least, when the structure of the tomb changed or was interfered with by some higher-level power, the map would be affected as well.
But regardless, it had saved him this time.
Without this map, he never could have escaped alone from that closing tomb.
Matthew took a deep breath and withdrew his focus from the map.
The mountain path ahead gradually opened up.
A sparse woodland could be seen in the distance.
As long as he passed through there and headed south for half a day, he would be back near the old road they had taken to get here.
However, Matthew didn't plan on going back directly.
His current appearance was too conspicuous.
His clothes were torn, he was covered in injuries, he carried a wrapped staff on his back, and the leather pouch at his waist was clearly heavy. If he met anyone on the road, it would easily arouse suspicion.
He needed to find a place first to tidy himself up to look like an ordinary destitute apprentice returning from the wilderness, rather than someone who had just escaped from an Official Wizard's tomb with heavy treasures.
For the entire following morning, Matthew detoured along the edge of the mountain forest.
He found a small stream, washed the dust from his wounds and face, and cut off the most obviously torn corners of his clothes before retieing them.
He washed away whatever bloodstains he could.
For the spots that wouldn't wash out, he used mud and grass juice to simply mask them.
That deep brown staff was wrapped layer by layer with rags until it looked like an ordinary walking stick.
The leather pouch was split into two parts.
One part contained a small amount of ordinary magic stones and a few low-level materials, which he hung at his waist.
The other part, containing the truly valuable items, was hidden against his skin inside his clothes, secured firmly with cloth bands.
This way, even if someone noticed his harvest, they would only think he had picked up some ordinary resources from the outskirts of a ruin.
They wouldn't immediately think that he was carrying a fortune sufficient to drive low-level wizard apprentices insane.
After finishing all this, Matthew followed the stream downward.
As noon approached, he stopped on a high slope.
Looking back from here, the depths of the distant mountain forest were still shrouded in a faint mist.
That was the direction of the tomb.
The mist hadn't dissipated.
Instead, it was even thicker than when they had arrived.
Matthew looked at that mist, and a very strange feeling suddenly arose in his heart.
It would be best not to approach this place again for a short while.
Not just him.
No one should approach it.
But he also knew that this was unrealistic.
Once ruins and tombs were discovered, it was impossible for them to remain quiet forever.
Furthermore, there was still that person behind Sutton who had provided the information.
Since that person could lure Sutton here once, they might also lure a second group of people.
Perhaps the other party was even waiting for this tomb to be further awakened.
At this thought, Matthew’s gaze turned slightly cold.
Did this matter have anything to do with him?
From a rational standpoint, he should stay away.
He should act as if nothing had happened.
Take the resources back, increase his strength, hide his gains, and continue being an inconspicuous wizard apprentice.
That was the safest choice.
But the problem was, that empty sarcophagus seemed to have already remembered him.
And that ring, that staff, and that metal box were all on his person.
He might not necessarily be able to completely stay out of it.
Matthew remained silent for a moment before finally turning to leave.
Whether he would be dragged into it in the future was a matter for the future.
Right now, he was too weak.
He was so weak he might not even have the right to know the truth.
Before he was strong enough, what he should do most was not investigate secrets, but digest these gains.
Only by turning magic stones into cultivation progress, materials into usable resources, and figuring out the staff and ring would he truly count as having survived this trip to the tomb.
Otherwise, these things would only become a danger weighing down on him.
The mountain wind blew past.
Matthew pulled down his hood and slowly walked away along the small path down the slope.
His silhouette wasn't tall, and he even looked a bit disheveled due to his injuries and exhaustion.
But his steps were steady.
Step by step, he moved further and further away from that Official Wizard's tomb.
...
And deep underground, far behind him.
In the main burial chamber, that massive empty sarcophagus stood open in silence.
The grayish-white runes had dimmed considerably.
Broken stone chips, snapped weapons, and some traces of dragging were scattered across the floor.
The humanoid indentation in the center of the sarcophagus's bottom remained empty.
Only, at the edge of that indentation, a faint trace of blood had appeared at some point.
It looked like a mark left behind when someone had broken free.
Or perhaps like some kind of marking that hadn't been completely finished.
...
Deep in the mountain forest, the evening mist settled down bit by bit.
At first, it was just a thin layer clinging between the damp grass leaves and rotting fallen wood, like a cold breath slowly seeping out from underground. But as the sky gradually darkened, the mist grew thicker, gradually swallowing the distant tree trunks and the remaining light at the end of the mountain path.
The woods were very quiet.
This silence wasn't an absence of sound, but rather that all sounds were pressed very low. Insects hid under withered leaves, and night birds occasionally cried out in the distance, only to be quickly blocked by the dense layers of branches and leaves. The wind blew through the canopy, bringing a rustling sound that sounded like something was slowly crawling along an invisible place.
The soil smelled of rotting leaves and the cold, damp scent after rain.
If an ordinary hunter were walking here, they might only think this mountain forest was cold and hard to traverse. But for Matthew, who had just escaped from the tomb, every shadow in this forest seemed to remind him of everything that had happened inside.
That coffin.
That burial chamber.
Those passages that had gradually distorted after being triggered.
And finally, that chill that had almost crushed his Spirit.
Matthew walked slowly along the mountain path.
His cloak was torn in several places, its edges covered in mud and dust. There was a slit in his sleeve, and the fabric visible inside was also darkened by bloodstains. That blood wasn't all his; some came from the demonized creatures in the tomb, and some had been picked up in the chaos.
None of that was important, though.
What mattered was that he had come out alive.
Matthew’s face was somewhat pale, and his lips weren't as colored as usual. One hand was pressed against his side, and the other hung naturally beneath his cloak. He seemed merely exhausted, but in truth, he maintained a posture that allowed him to retrieve items at any moment.
Even though he was already a distance away from the tomb, he still hadn't completely relaxed.
Prudence was the reason he could live until now.
Especially after this time, Matthew knew better than ever that in many cases, a 'near miss' was the same as death.
The mountain path wasn't easy to walk.
It seemed to have rained last night; the soil was soft from being stepped on, and some places were still filled with murky water. Matthew’s boots stepped into it, making a light squelching sound. He didn't rush his pace but maintained a steady speed, observing his surroundings as he walked.
This habit had almost become ingrained in his very bones.
Every time he passed a bend, he would first check the ground for new footprints. Every time he heard a rustle in the bushes, he would pause for half a breath, continuing only after confirming it was just a wild rabbit or a snake.
But even so, his body was constantly reminding him that he had reached the edge of his limits.
It wasn't the injuries, but the exhaustion.
Long periods of mental tension, continuous judgment, escape, spellcasting, and the fatigue brought about by the final forced extraction of Spirit were all like invisible hands dragging at his limbs.
Especially that sense of hunger in his stomach.
It wasn't an ordinary hunger.
An ordinary person's hunger was just an empty stomach.
But Matthew’s current hunger felt as if even his marrow and blood had been partially hollowed out. An instinctive craving came from deep within his body—a craving for heat, for flesh and blood, and for something that could quickly repair the loss.
“I must replenish it,” Matthew whispered to himself.
His voice was very light, quickly scattering into the forest.
He looked toward the path ahead.
At the end of the mountain road, the trees were gradually thinning. Further ahead, he would be able to see the main road leading to the county seat.
At that moment, Matthew’s long-tensed nerves finally relaxed slightly.
But only slightly.
Because he knew very well that leaving the mountain forest didn't mean he was completely safe.
The county seat had its own dangers.
The things in the tomb might not be able to catch up for now, but the people involved in this exploration weren't few. Herbert, Sutton, the other adventurers, and those who had died inside—every name could potentially lead to new trouble.
The more one gained, the more careful one had to be.
Matthew lowered his head and pulled his hood even lower, obscuring his overly pale face.
After stepping out of the mountain forest, the road widened considerably.
The muddy path turned into a dirt road repeatedly crushed by carriage wheels, and scattered pedestrians began to appear by the roadside. There were farmers rushing into the city, hunters carrying prey, and several adventurers who looked like they had also just come out of the mountains.
They all carried more or less exhaustion and the scent of blood.
So Matthew, blending in among them, wasn't conspicuous.
In the distance, the silhouette of the county seat gradually appeared in the night.
The tall outer city wall lay across the end of the plain, with a row of torches lit upon it. The torchlight flickered in the wind like a string of unstable stars. There were still many people queuing to enter the city in front of the gate, with soldiers holding spears conducting routine inspections of passersby.
Matthew followed behind the crowd, his eyes downcast.
When it was his turn, the gate guard glanced at him, his gaze lingering for a moment on his torn cloak and slightly disheveled clothing.
“Back from the mountains?”
“Yeah.”
Matthew’s voice was hoarse. He didn't want to reveal his tracks and didn't use his status to pressure anyone.
The soldier was clearly used to seeing adventurers in this state and didn't ask further, only frowning.
“The mountains haven't been peaceful lately. I heard quite a few people went in and didn't come out.”
Matthew took out a few copper coins and placed them in the small wooden box for city entry.
“There are always people with bad luck.”
The soldier looked at him, seemingly finding the remark a bit cold, but didn't argue, only waving his hand.
“Go on in.”
Matthew passed through the city gate and entered the outer city.
The outer city was completely different from the mountain forest.
The moment he entered, a mix of sounds rushed toward him. People were shouting in the taverns, mercenaries were slamming tables and calling for ale, and the neighing of horses and the sound of wheels rolling over stone slabs came from the alleys. Street vendors were closing their stalls; the smells of roast meat, ale, sweat, and animal droppings mingled together, coarse and real.
This bustle of life made Matthew feel momentarily dazed.
Not long ago, he had been facing those cold, ancient things inside the tomb. The air there felt like it had been dead for many years, every breath carrying decay and oppression. But now, before his eyes was the clamor of the living.
He didn't relax because of this.
Instead, he became even more alert.
Where there were many people, there were many eyes.
Matthew kept his head down, passing through the main street of the outer city without stopping at any shops. He did his best to keep his steps steady, not letting anyone see his current weakness.
The outer city was chaotic.
Large numbers of adventurers, craftsmen, small vendors, and ordinary civilians gathered here. Someone was arguing over a glass of wine, and someone else was huddled in a corner haggling. Occasionally, a patrol squad would pass by, and the surrounding voices would lower slightly, only to resume their noise once they had moved far away.
Matthew passed through this chaos and headed toward the inner city.
The inner city gate wasn't as tall as the outer city's, but it was more heavily guarded.
The soldiers here had more complete armor and stood straighter.
Most people who could enter the inner city had some kind of status, or at least weren't ordinary vagrants.
...
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