Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

”Junior Brother!” Senior Brother Mack’s eyes went wide with horror. The sight of his companion being crushed and hurled away made the veins on his forehead bulge. He roared furiously and tried to rush over, but he was still trapped under the immense pressure of the colossal golden sword.

Its descending force was like a mountain pressing on his body and space itself—powerful and relentless, restraining even someone like him who stood at the peak of 6th level Legend Rank. His entire body shook as he gritted his teeth and resisted, but it would take time to break free.

Max didn’t waste that time.

With killing intent bursting from every pore, he shot forward like a streak of lightning, the Blue Dragon Sword glowing in his grip, its edge still humming with severing energy. He appeared before the injured man, who was slumped against the snow wall, blood pouring down his chin, too weak to even lift his hand.

Max’s eyes were cold, emotionless.

Swish!

He raised his sword high.

One clean, merciless stroke.

”AHHH!” A bloodcurdling scream rang out, but it didn’t last long. The sword cleaved through flesh and bone like paper, and the falling snow around them turned red, dyed by a fountain of blood spraying into the air.

The man’s body was ripped into pieces—limbs, torso, and head scattered across the frost-covered ground like broken dolls. The snowflakes that fluttered in the air a moment ago now fell heavy, thick with crimson, painting the scene in chilling silence.

”Junior brother!” Senior Brother Mack roared from beneath the crushing force of the golden sword. His pupils shrank to pinpoints as he witnessed the gruesome death, his heart filled with rage and sorrow.

Seeing the mangled body of his companion, chopped into scattered meat, pushed him beyond sanity. His aura surged wildly, unstable, filled with murderous fury.

With a thunderous cry, he gathered every ounce of his power, mana blazing around him like an inferno. The golden sword above him cracked—once, twice—and with one final blast of raw might.

BOOM!

It shattered into fragments of light that scattered into the sky like broken stars.

Then—he charged.

No hesitation. No fear.

Only vengeance.

”Die!”

Senior Brother Mack roared like a demon, his expression twisted with hatred. His hands moved rapidly, forming a series of seals, and the air around him ignited with searing heat.

Flames surged upward, spinning and twisting until they formed a towering wall of fire over a hundred feet tall. It didn’t burn like ordinary flames—it rumbled like a crashing wave, flames folding into themselves, layered with destructive intent.

With a deafening roar, the wall of flame rushed toward Max like a divine punishment, threatening to crush everything in its path.

But Max didn’t flinch. His eyes remained calm, cold like still water before a storm. He didn’t even take a step back. Instead, he inhaled deeply, and his right arm bulged with raw power as he activated the full might of his 600 Draconic Essences.

Veins glowed faintly along his forearm, and with a powerful shout, he stepped forward and launched his fist straight at the flaming wall.

BANG!

The collision shook the entire snow-covered region. A shockwave blasted through the valley, blowing snow into the air like an avalanche had just dropped from the sky. Max’s body was flung backward, skidding across the icy ground, his feet carving deep grooves through the snow.

He came to a grinding halt, his breath calm but heavy. His hand was slightly scorched, but his gaze burned hotter than the flames.

Without a word, Max drew the Blue Dragon Sword once more. Black flames coiled around the blade like vipers, intertwining with his level 2 Severing Sword Concept, which buzzed with a sharp, annihilating aura.

The flames weren’t just hot—they were unnatural, devouring all heat and light like cursed embers from the depths of some hellish forge. His aura soared skyward.

Across from him, Senior Brother Mack’s pupils contracted as he sensed the shift. ”Black flames...?” he muttered, brows knitting. ”And two level 2 concepts at once...?”

A brief flash of surprise flickered in his eyes, but it was quickly buried beneath fury. ”Hmph,” he snorted, the murderous glint returning to his gaze. ”It doesn’t matter what kind of freakish power you have. Today, you die—no exceptions!”

He raised his hand with a low, thunderous growl. ”Rise.”

Immediately, yellow-gold rays of light burst out from his skin, wrapping around his limbs like molten chains. They rapidly condensed into an earthen-gold armor, covering his chest, shoulders, and legs with plates of shimmering light.

Mana surged, and within seconds, a giant axe—at least twice as large as the halberd from before—condensed from pure yellow light in his grasp. The weapon radiated destructive intent, infused with both flame and earth concepts. Even the air trembled in its presence.

Max narrowed his eyes slightly. This power... it was something beyond ordinary Legend Rank techniques.

Senior Brother Mack’s killing intent exploded. With a roar, he launched himself into the air, his body like a meteor crashing down. He raised the massive axe high and swung it with all his might.

”CUT!”

The blade of the giant axe howled through the sky, tearing through space itself. Its pressure shredded clouds of snow before they could even scatter. The aura it carried was monstrous—hot like lava and heavy like a falling mountain. The swing erased the very air in its path, consuming everything in a blinding arc of annihilation. Snow melted, ice vaporized, and even the light dimmed as if the heavens themselves were backing away.

Max hadn’t expected such fierce resistance. He’d seen plenty of so-called geniuses, but this man—Senior Brother Mack—was different. His strength was monstrous, his speed sharp, nearly matching Max’s own. Still, Max stood tall, unwavering.

With both hands gripping the hilt of his Blue Dragon Sword, its body flickering with twin concepts—level 2 Severing Sword and level 2 Flame Concept—he focused his breath and channeled everything into a single strike.

”Crimson Burial Sword Art,” he muttered, his voice quiet but heavy with killing intent.