Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Lucien’s eyes sharpened, like a blade pressed to the throat. ”You saw it yourself. The soul fragment sealed in the Mourning Depths—the one you stumbled upon—it leaked. Even bound, even split, Mark’s will seeped through. He found a body to possess, to crawl back into existence, before you shattered the seal and released him entirely. Do you understand what that means, Max? Even sealed, even buried, he endured. He clawed back.”

His words struck like thunder, his tone absolute. ”Even his soul cannot be erased. It cannot be killed. As long as this world still breathes, as long as its skies stand and its earth holds firm... Mark will live. He simply cannot be destroyed.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Max’s face darkened until it was almost terrifying, the crimson glow of his eyes dimming into something hollow. For the first time in a long while, a trace of despair stirred inside him. It wasn’t that he feared Mark’s overwhelming power—Max had never feared growing stronger, never feared surpassing his limits. What gnawed at him now was the truth Lucien had spoken.

’Even if I reach Mark’s level... even if I surpass it... if he cannot be killed, then what am I fighting for?’

An enemy who could not be killed was, to Max, the most dangerous enemy of all. Power could be challenged, but permanence? Permanence was despair.

His fists clenched at his sides, trembling with rage and helplessness. His voice cracked as he stared straight into Lucien’s calm, unreadable eyes. ”Then how should we kill him? Tell me—what is the point? Isn’t our world already doomed? If nobody can kill him... then what’s the point of this war? What are we even fighting for?”

The chamber fell silent, the weight of his words pressing down like a storm.

Lucien’s expression shifted ever so slightly. His red hair fell across his face as he closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling a long, weary sigh. ”...That,” he said slowly, his tone heavy, ”is the fate of this world.”

His words echoed in the silence like a curse.

Max’s jaw locked, his crimson aura flaring uncontrollably. His nails dug into his palms until blood seeped between his fingers. ”Fate?!” he spat, his voice low, venomous. ”Is that what you call it? To live under the shadow of a man who cannot die? To fight battles that don’t matter because, in the end, he still exists?” His voice rose higher, shaking the walls of the chamber. ”Is that all humanity is supposed to accept?!”

He shook his head violently, his crimson hair falling across his eyes as he glared down at his own trembling fists. For the first time, he felt... powerless.

Even if he killed the demons.

Even if he eradicated the nulls.

Even if he slaughtered the Ascendants themselves.

What then?

What would he do with Mark?

He could not be killed. He could not be erased. His infernal energy would infest the world forever, gnawing at its roots like an unending plague.

Max’s chest rose and fell violently, his breath ragged. His mind spun with possibilities, each one collapsing into futility. He knew—he knew—that one day he would leave this world. He would ascend to the Divine Realm, to search for his mother and father. That path was etched into his heart. But if Mark remained here... if Mark continued to lurk in the shadows, waiting, festering...

What then?

Would he simply walk away? Would he abandon this small mortal world to its eternal torment, just as Lucien had chosen to? Would he ignore Mark’s existence, pretend the threat didn’t matter, and turn his back on everyone left behind?

The thought twisted like a blade in his chest. His crimson eyes flickered wildly, torn between grief and rage. His aura swelled until the entire room pulsed with the rhythm of his anguish.

Max inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling as he forced the storm in his heart to calm. His crimson aura dimmed slightly, settling into a steady flame. He closed his eyes for a moment, sifting through everything Lucien had told him—the curse, the Lotus of Clear Serenity, Bright Buddha Palace, the Celestial Beast Temple, and the impossibility of killing Mark. All of it weighed heavily on him, yet clarity formed in his mind.

”For now,” he muttered to himself, his voice low but resolute, ”I know what to do. I have a clear path ahead.”

His crimson eyes opened again, steady and unwavering. He turned sharply toward Lucien, a thought that had long gnawed at him finally clawing its way to the surface.

”Tell me something I want to know...” His tone was sharp, almost demanding, but beneath it lay the tremor of restrained emotion. ”Do you know someone named Freya Voidwalker?”

The name slipped into the air like a blade.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed faintly at the mention, his calm expression tightening ever so slightly. His gaze sharpened, and after a moment of silence, he gave a slow, deliberate nod. ”I do.”

Max’s entire body jolted. His figure trembled violently, his crimson aura flaring with a shock it hadn’t shown since his awakening. For a moment, his breath caught in his throat.

It was the first time since the day he had awakened his class that he had heard confirmation—someone knew her. Someone knew his sister.

Half of his journey, from the blood-soaked Eastern Region of Valora Continent to the perilous expanse of the Middle Domain, had been driven by that singular hope—to find her. To know she was alive. To reunite. That hope had carried him through battles, through despair, through endless trials. And now, finally, he had a thread.

Excitement surged through him, almost overwhelming, his crimson wings twitching behind his back. His voice trembled, not from fear, but from an emotion far stronger. ”Where is she?” he asked quickly, his tone sharp with urgency. ”How do you know her?”

The questions spilled out like arrows loosed from a bow, his eyes wide, burning with desperate hope.

For the first time in years, Max felt the barrier of distance between himself and his sister narrowing. And in that moment, his heart thundered louder than the storm of infernal energy raging within him.