Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Where before it had taken a mile of walking to move two miles closer to the abyss, now it took labyrinthine maneuvering just to escape a few hundred feet. Max led them in winding arcs, zigzagging through terrain that shifted underfoot.

Left… right… double back… veer sideways…

There were no straight lines here—only distorted space, where distance and direction obeyed a logic all their own.

But Max had one advantage.

His soul marks.

Even in this warped realm, they held.

As he retraced his steps, he found faint remnants of his earlier soul runes glowing dimly in the earth. They hadn't been completely corrupted by the infernal energy. They endured.

And with each glowing trace they recovered, the tension in Max's chest eased—just a little.

They hadn't beaten the Mourning Depths.

But they hadn't lost to it either.

Not yet.

Sometimes later, they arrived back at the location. Max saw the first soul mark he placed had almost vanished. "We are back to square one but..." He looked ahead at the sheering black flames reaching the sky... It only felt like no matter which direction they had been walking, they were slowly heading towards the True Mourning Depths.

"Max, what's going on?" Harry blurted out in utter fear. "We have turned back a while ago from where the True Mourning Depths almost affected us with its heat and now that we are back to where we finally started following you, the True Mourning Depths had gotten even closer. This... This should be impossible."

"We aren't going in circles..." He muttered. "Your mark is the proof of that then it means..."

"It means the True Mourning Depths is moving towards us." Max said slowly.

The moment the words escaped from Max's mouth, the entire group sucked in a breath of cold air.

The Mourning Depths was moving towards them...

It felt too horrifying to finally understand the truth and yet they could do nothing here.

As the group pressed forward in tense silence, the earth itself seemed to pause with them.

Then—

BOOOOOM!!!

A deafening, thunderous roar tore through the heavens—so sudden, so terrifyingly loud, that the entire world seemed to shake beneath its might.

No one could tell where it came from. It wasn't from the sky, or the ground, or the distant horizon.

It came from everywhere and nowhere, like the universe itself had cracked open to scream.

The sound slammed into their ears like a heavenly hammer, and before they could react, their eardrums screamed in protest, nearly bursting on the spot.

"Seal your ears!" someone shouted hoarsely—but most were already moving.

They poured vital essence into their bodies, shielding their senses from the auditory assault. Blood ran from a few noses. One genius fell to his knees, clutching his head, groaning in agony.

It was like the sound of a world being shattered.

Like a god had roared in rage.

The air trembled.

The ground quaked for ten thousand miles in every direction.

The sky looked ready to tear apart.

Even the most fearless among them felt it—a primal fear rising from the deepest parts of their soul. Their hearts pounded violently in their chests, and for a brief moment, it felt like the entire world was holding its breath.

Max's face turned pale, his expression grim.

'What the hell was that sound?!'

It wasn't thunder. It couldn't be.

No thunder had that kind of weight.

No thunder carried the dread of cosmic judgment.

And then—

They saw it.

In the distance, somewhere deep within the true Mourning Depths, the surging flow of black energy suddenly grew violent, twisting, churning, and then splitting apart—

Revealing something that would forever be seared into their memories.

From within that spiraling abyss of darkness, a head emerged.

A massive, ancient head—hundreds of miles long—slowly rose into view.

Dark crimson scales, each one the size of a mountain, reflected a dull, hellish glow. From its crown jutted a massive horn, curved and ridged like the peak of a nightmare.

It looked draconic, but this was no True Dragon.

It was something older. Something primordial.

A creature from a time before time.

A wave of silence swept over the group.

No one breathed.

No one blinked.

Because in front of them was a beast so enormous, so impossibly ancient, that even gods would hesitate.

If just its head was this size—then its body must stretch for thousands, maybe tens of thousands of miles.

"W-What… what is that...?" someone whispered, voice trembling like a leaf.

Their minds were barely holding together. The sheer scale of what they were witnessing defied comprehension.

And yet—

The beast didn't acknowledge them.

It didn't snarl. It didn't roar. It didn't even glance their way.

Because they didn't matter.

To it, they were ants.

Not even that.

Dust.

Its dark gold eyes, glowing with an ancient, indifferent brilliance, swept across the heavens—cold, infinite, uncaring.

And the moment those eyes flicked in their direction—

Pain.

Blinding, soul-rending pain.

Several of the weaker geniuses screamed and collapsed to the ground, coughing blood. The momentary contact with that gaze had nearly ruptured their minds. Even some squad leaders staggered back, their faces drained of color.

Harry clenched his jaw, taking a full step backward, as though the very air around him had become poisoned.

Those pupils were thousands of feet tall—and in their depths, it felt like entire galaxies spun and died. Staring into them was like staring into eternity, and it broke the minds of those who tried.

Crown Prince Aelric, trembling, tore his gaze away immediately.

Others followed suit, shaking in horror.

All but one.

Max.

He was still standing. Still staring.

His eyes were wide open, locked onto the great ancient beast. Veins bulged violently across the whites of his eyes. His vision blurred. His pupils shook. Blood vessels ruptured.

But he didn't look away.

"Max!" Blob's voice screamed in his mind. "If you keep looking, your eyes will explode!"

But Max didn't flinch.

He couldn't.

Wouldn't.

Because in that creature—

In that moment—

He saw something.

Something ancient. Something familiar.

Something that called to a part of him that even he hadn't yet understood.

And he would not look away.

Even as the blood began to run down his cheeks.