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Deep within the Heretic Reformation Facility in Fern City,

Dean McKenzie looked to the side.

He could faintly see a figure crucified alongside him.

Dean was initially startled, but quickly responded, asking, “Are you Crohn Merlin The Dead Ola?”

“Crohn Merlin The Dead Ola?”

The figure on the opposite side chewed over this name, taking a while before replying: “No one has called me that in a long time. Here, they all call me Test Subject Number One!”

As he said this, Crohn Merlin The Dead Ola, who until now seemed quite okay, suddenly erupted in fury.

“Those damned bastards of the Church of Holy Light! They broke into my home, stole my property, dragged me to this hell hole, and subjected me to all kinds of inhuman modification.

Don’t let me break free, don’t let me escape from here, or else I swear I’ll butcher every last one of that Church of the Holy Light, every last one!”

His words grew increasingly furious, increasingly louder, ultimately breaking out into a mad howl.

Just as his howl reached its peak, a dazzling Holy Light suddenly ignited within the dim dungeon and illuminated the entire space.

“Ah!” “Ah!”

Two shrill screams echoed in unison.

One was from Crohn Merlin The Dead Ola, the other from Dean McKenzie.

The Holy Light shone on Dean, who felt an extreme burning pain within every inch of his skin, every muscle and even within his bones.

Dean had never been tortured before, but he thought that his current state could hardly be differentiated from it.

However, Dean was still in a better condition compared to the figure beside him, who was the main target of the Holy Light.

Seizing the opportunity of the Holy Light’s glow, Dean turned his head to look at the individual.

As he did so, Dean’s pupils contracted.

The state of that individual was utterly horrific.

His entire body was covered with blistering burns, looking extremely ferocious and in immense pain.

Even so, he remained resilient amidst the substantial Holy Light, gritting his teeth and continuing to curse.

Seeing his condition, Dean couldn’t help but admire the man, despite suffering collateral damage from his ordeal. At least the man was unquestionably robust.

He had actually managed to knock himself unconscious.

As the man passed out, the dazzling Holy Light finally dimmed.

Dean was liberated from his agony.

After letting out a sigh of relief, Dean looked worriedly at Crohn.

He was genuinely scared that the man might be dead.

After all, the man possessed the inheritance Dean needed.

Even in his current state, Dean was still considering the Necromancer Inheritance.

Despite Dean’s worries, Crohn was still alive.

After just over an hour, Dean heard a moan.

Dean let out a sigh of relief, and then called out, “Old man, still alive, aren’t you?”

Crohn rolled his eyes in a dispirited manner.

“Who are you calling an old man? I’m just 170, still in my prime! I have plenty of time to spend, plenty of life to enjoy, god damn that Church of Holy Light…Ah!”

“Here we go again!”

Dean’s face darkened as he had to endure the Holy Light again until Crohn passed out once more.

After two rounds of this, Dean had a clue — Crohn was mentally unstable.

Dean decided it was best not to engage with him further, instead waiting until he became more stable before conversing again.

This did not help much.

After briefly coming to, Crohn resumed his fulminations, which once again invoked the Holy Light.

Although Dean had done nothing this time, he was once again bathed in the Holy Light.

After three instances, each lasting at least ten minutes, Dean’s exposed skin got burned.

Dean had absolutely no patience left.

Crohn, however, seemed enthusiastic in his cursing, despite having passed out thrice since Dean’s arrival.

He woke up and continued to curse.

This went on seven or eight times.

It finally stopped, not because Crohn gave up, but because the Holy Light ceased to descend.

Only then did Crohn let out a deeply satisfied laugh, as if he had won a great victory.

Afterwards, Crohn then turned to Dean and asked, “Kid, you said you came to Fern City to find me?

What do you need me for?”

“Necromancer Inheritance.”

Dean replied lifelessly after having been tortured by the Holy Light seven or eight times.

Upon hearing this, Crohn’s eyes lit up, immediately giving an asking price: “Flat rate: 1500 Gold!”

Dean couldn’t help but roll his eyes: “Seriously, man, what do you need money for now?”

“Stop calling me old man! Also, none of your business why I want money. Give me the money, and I’ll pass down the Inheritance to you!”

“How am I supposed to give you money in this state?”

“That’s not my problem. No money, no Inheritance!”

Crohn seemed willing to die in this place rather than budge on his demand for money.

Dean had had enough of dealing with the man.

Plus, Dean knew the old man was mentally unstable. Judging by his reaction to the Holy Light, if Dean argued with him, he wouldn’t stop until one of them was dead.

So Dean stopped talking and took the opportunity of the absence of the Holy Light to close his eyes and rest.

But as Dean tried to rest, Crohn was adamant about keeping him engaged in conversation..