This is a dim dungeon.
Dark, damp, exuding the sour stench of decay and rot.
It seems like a corner of the world that has been forgotten and despised, where you can only hear the scurrying of rats and cockroaches in the darkness, and occasionally the sounds of beating, cursing, and the wails of prisoners.
As if awakening grievances and vengeful spirits from years of slumber, piercing one's eardrums.
Suddenly, accompanied by the creaking sounds, the cold stone door of the dungeon was slowly pushed open, and several Judgement Knights escorted John, who was shackled with Magic Prohibition Shackles, inside.
Compared to a few months ago, Old John seemed to be more disheveled, with his hair somewhat messy.
However, his back remained straight, like a resilient pine tree, as if nothing in this world could make him submit.
"Mr. John, welcome to your new home."
The Eternal Priest who led Old John here said with a sarcastic tone, giving him a vicious kick.
