Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Max stood tall and still, the burning lion charging at him with blazing majesty, its jaws wide, flames howling, aura cracking the sky like thunder. Yet he didn’t flinch. He didn’t step back. He simply watched it come—calmly, coldly, as if it were beneath him.

And then, with terrifying composure, he raised his right fist, now fully infused with infernal might, its skin dark red and veined with glowing black lines from the spread of the Infernal Demon Tattoo.

His fingers clenched tighter, and in that instant, the world seemed to pause—only to shatter a heartbeat later with a violent explosion of aura.

Boom!

From his fist erupted a wave unlike anything the battlefield had ever felt. A violent burst of Slaughter Aura surged outward like a tidal wave, not just infused but fused with Max’s raw Infernal Energy—a black-red maelstrom of pure destruction.

The pressure that radiated from that single arm wasn’t just power—it was domination. It was a murderous will, seeping into the souls of everyone who felt it.

Far across the battlefield, seasoned warriors—men and women who had fought in countless battles—staggered and fell to one knee, clutching their chests as their hearts trembled from the sheer intensity.

Faces turned pale. Breaths caught in throats. Weapons lowered unconsciously.

It wasn’t just energy anymore.

It was bloodlust made manifest.

A weapon shaped not by technique alone, but by hatred—honed through agony, grief, rage, and a curse deep enough to warp fate itself.

Max’s crimson right eye glowed with unholy light as he stepped into the blow.

The air around him howled, twisted, screeched, as if the laws of the world were peeling back in fear of what was coming.

His voice, steady and lethal, cut through the madness.

”Blood Surge Fist – Fury Ignition!”

His fist exploded forward like a cannon of death, meeting the incoming flaming lion head-on.

And in the next instant—

Everything. Blew. Apart.

Fire and shadow clashed in midair, and the sky itself screamed. The flaming lion shattered with a roar of agony, torn apart by the devouring force of infernal slaughter. Heat met corruption. Concept met curse.

And in that clash, it was Max’s will that proved supreme. The lion didn’t just break—it disintegrated, unraveling into ash and fading embers before ever touching Max’s skin.

The resulting shockwave split the clouds, tore chunks out of the battlefield below, and hurled nearby warriors—enemy and ally alike—through the air like ragdolls.

The Level 2 Expert Rank warrior who had so confidently launched his strongest attack? His body was flung back like a discarded rag, blood spurting from his mouth before he even understood what had happened.

His entire right arm was gone—blasted into nothingness by the sheer impact of Max’s strike. His right leg was missing too, torn clean off at the thigh, blood and scorched flesh trailing behind him as he spiraled through the air.

But what was most horrifying wasn’t what had been destroyed in an instant—it was what remained. The left half of his body, though still intact, was being slowly eaten away by the lingering remnants of Slaughter Aura and Infernal Energy that clung to his flesh like a curse.

The veins in his skin turned black, pulsing with corruption. His shoulder cracked as patches of skin crumbled into dust, his organs breaking down from within, unable to resist the foreign, monstrous force gnawing at his very existence. The decay was silent, merciless, and final.

”How...” he croaked, blood spilling from his lips as his body shook with the effort to speak. His eyes, once sharp and burning with pride, now dulled with disbelief and dread. ”You... didn’t use... a concept...” he whispered, voice barely audible over the wind that howled around them.

And that was it.

Those were his final words before his body finally gave up—his balance lost, his strength gone. Slowly, pathetically, he began to fall, limbs slack, eyes empty, his mangled and decaying form descending through the air like broken debris.

He hit the bloodstained earth with a lifeless thud, the weight of his pride crashing down with him. There was no final cry, no dramatic last breath. He was just... gone.

Dead.

Everyone stood frozen.

The clash that had just occurred between Max and the Level 2 Expert Rank warrior was no ambush, no sneak attack—it had been a direct, face-to-face confrontation. And Max had emerged not just victorious, but overwhelming.

The entire battlefield fell into silence once again, the roar of skills and the clashing of blades halted mid-swing. Warriors turned their eyes skyward, minds reeling, struggling to accept what they had just seen.

If his previous kills had caused murmurs of disbelief, this one drowned them in awe. A young man not even in the Seeker Rank had met an Expert Rank head-on and won. No tricks. No advantages. Just power. Ruthless, unrelenting power.

”You’re starting to annoy me, you know that?” a cold voice suddenly echoed from high above—calm, yet laced with something dark and twisted. Drevon. The Young Monarch’s voice cracked like thunder across the clouds as an arc of blood-red light suddenly tore through the sky, falling toward Max like a divine punishment from the heavens.

”No!” Klaus shouted, his eyes wide with panic. He surged upward with all his speed, a wave of black flames bursting from his palm as he hurled his own attack to intercept the red arc.

At the same time, the silver-haired elven woman reacted as well, summoning a gleaming silver sword from thin air and sending it streaking toward the descending threat.

But something unimaginable happened.

Just as both defensive attacks neared the red arc, the red energy suddenly accelerated, its velocity spiking like a slingshot unleashed.

It tore through Klaus’s black flames with a hiss, split the silver sword in half like it was made of paper, and closed the distance to Max in the blink of an eye. It moved too fast—so fast that even Klaus and the elven lady couldn’t react in time.

Bang!

The red arc slammed into Max like a comet. The force sent his body hurtling through the air, crashing down toward the earth like a falling star. The impact was cataclysmic.

The ground shattered, dirt and stone erupting outward as Max slammed into it, forming a crater larger and deeper than even the one left by his earlier kill. Dust and debris flew into the sky in a choking storm, hiding the center of the blast from view.

”MAX!” Klaus shouted, diving down toward the crater without hesitation. His face was pale, horror written across every line as he rushed toward the impact zone, but he didn’t get far.

Because from the dust and rubble—something moved.

A shadow surged upward, cutting through the smoke like a phoenix rising from fire. It was Max. His figure shot back into the air, straight-backed, his wing flaring open behind him, pink and red eyes blazing with fury and defiance.

His shirt was torn, ripped open across the chest where the red arc had landed, revealing bare skin beneath it. But—there was no blood. No wound. Not even a scratch. His skin was flawless. Untouched.

’I see... So that’s how it is...’ Max thought his red eye gleaming. ’The true power of the Infernal Demon Tattoo combining with my Unholy Trinity Physique.... With this strength I can...’

Looking up, he hovered there, the winds swirling around him, as he raised his voice and stared into the clouds above.

”Is that it?” he shouted, loud enough for all the world to hear. His voice boomed with contempt, echoing across the battlefield. ”You can’t even injure me!”