Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

But still—he followed.

Because somehow, deep in his bones, he knew.

'This thing knows the way.'

Behind him, dozens of figures moved cautiously through the fog—Crown Prince Aelric, Harry, Jack, Amelia, Alice, and the rest of the geniuses and squad leaders. No one spoke. No one dared to break the fragile thread of momentum holding them together.

And then—

the dragon stopped.

It hovered still, its translucent form pulsing faintly around Max not disappearing.

Not yet.

Max slowed to a halt.

And so did everyone else.

"Wait," someone murmured.

Max blinked once, and the dragon vanished—like mist in sunlight. But what lay ahead made him freeze.

Then his eyes widened.

"...No way," Crown Prince Aelric breathed beside him, his voice cracking.

Ahead of them—just through a thin veil of fog—stood dozens of figures in battle robes, their powerful auras pulsing like a forest of blazing stars.

Eyes sharp. Stances composed. Power radiating from every pore.

These were not ordinary experts.

They were the leaders of the Valora Continent.

The true lords of the Expert Rank—commanders of clans, guilds, empires.

Gasps erupted behind Max.

"Th-That's the Knight Kate from Knights of Order!"

"Lord Feran of the Twin Mansion in the South…?!"

"That's Grandmistress Elira! And… is that King Magnar!?"

Even the normally composed geniuses could barely contain their awe. Some bowed instinctively. Others stood frozen, unsure whether to move or speak.

Even Harry, who was usually the one giving orders, went stiff.

"They… they're really here…"

But just as the crowd reeled in shock—

However what everyone felt at that moment was a relief too.

Knowing that with leaders here, they would be able to safely leave the cursed place.

The leaders themselves reacted in shock seeing the kids arrived before them.

"What…?" murmured King Magnar, his golden brows drawing together. "Humans? Here?"

But when he looked closely did realized they were not just humans they were the geniuses of the continent who were supposed to venture through the 100-300 miles of the Mourning Depths.

However they somehow ended up here.

In the 1200 miles of the forbidden zone.

A moment of silence passed as their eyes scanned the group emerging from the fog.

"This… this should be impossible," said Grandmistress Elira, her tone laced with disbelief. "The location we're standing in—no one under the Expert Rank should be able to reach this depth. Not without guidance of the map Azula hold."

"And yet…" Azula's voice trailed off as she stared directly at Max. "They're here."

The surrounding leaders looked at one another, their expressions shifting from confusion… to genuine astonishment.

"How in the world did they navigate through the Mourning Depths without any spatial guidance?" someone muttered.

"How? We should wonder how are even they still alive? Even we faced countless life death situations before safely arriving at this point," another said.

"It must be because of fate or else I can't imagine them arriving here safely." Said yet another leader.

"No," Magnar said, his eyes narrowing. "Not fate. Someone led them."

And his gaze settled fully on Max.

Max stood calmly under their scrutinizing eyes.

Blood still crusted on his face. His clothes were torn. His soul still throbbed faintly from the earlier encounter with the ancient beast.

But he stood tall.

Unbowed.

And behind him… everyone was still alive.

As soon as the tension in the air eased, a wave of relief washed over the group.

Meanwhile, King Magnar had stepped forward, his gaze firmly on Crown Prince Aelric. His golden hair, now slightly tousled by the residual winds, glinted beneath the dull gray skies of the forbidden zone.

"What happened?" Magnar asked, his voice low, authoritative. "How did you all make it here? We didn't expect anyone to arrive here."

Aelric exhaled sharply. His shoulders still carried the tension of everything he had just been through, but he nodded respectfully and began to speak.

He didn't hold anything back.

From the moment they entered the Mourning Depths and passed the 1500-mile threshold…

To the strange shift in space…

To the sight of the True Mourning Depths itself…

To the dragon.

That ancient, world-shaking being. The monstrous head. The golden eyes. The wings that split the sky.

The moment Aelric described it, many of the leaders visibly stiffened.

Their eyes narrowed. Their hands clenched. Some muttered to themselves.

But none interrupted.

When Aelric finally finished, a strange silence fell over the group.

The leaders of the continent—the ones known as the unshakable pillars of the Valora Domain—stood frozen in place, expressions ranging from solemn contemplation to outright disbelief.

They had spent decades, some even centuries, researching the Mourning Depths.

They had sent countless scouts, probes, and spiritual projections into its outer reaches.

But never—not once—had they seen the True Mourning Depths with their own eyes when they were at the 100-300 meter range of the forbidden zone.

And yet these young geniuses, within just a few hours, had not only seen it…

They had walked close enough to feel the heat of that infernal void.

They had witnessed a creature even the legends didn't dare name.

Then—

All eyes turned.

Their gazes—curious, skeptical, some even suspicious—fell squarely on Max.

He didn't flinch.

Standing calmly beside Callie, his posture relaxed but his expression unreadable, he met their scrutiny with quiet defiance.

King Magnar took a step forward, his deep voice carrying the weight of command.

"Max," he said evenly, "how did you find us?"

Max blinked once, then shrugged, completely unfazed.

"I could sense your souls," he said plainly. "All of you here. The presence of so many at the Expert Rank… it wasn't hard to notice. So I followed the pull—and here you were."

Silence followed.

But not the respectful kind.

Several leaders—especially those whose intentions toward Max were less than noble—exchanged sharp glances.

Then one of them stepped forward with a sneer curling across his lips.

"Sense our souls? At your level?" His voice dripped with mockery. "Boy, do you even know what you're saying?"

He scoffed, his tone rising. "You're at the Adept Rank. Do you have any idea how absurd that sounds? You expect us to believe an Adept Rank can sense and track the soul aura of Expert Rank cultivators?"

A few other leaders chuckled coldly in agreement.

But Max only smiled—thin, sharp, and indifferent.

"Believe what you want," he said coolly, "I don't really care."

The dismissiveness in his voice hit like a slap.

The mocking leader's face twisted with anger, but before he could retaliate, King Magnar raised a hand—his tone sharp and commanding.

"Enough."

The words cut clean through the tension.

Magnar turned to Max again, this time his gaze warmer, more thoughtful.

"Max… regardless of how you found us, the fact is—you did."

"You led dozens of our best through the depths of a death trap. You brought them out alive."

He looked toward Crown Prince Aelric, standing silently nearby.

"You saved my son… and for that, I owe you my gratitude."

Max bowed slightly, humble yet firm.

"I was just trying to protect myself, Your Majesty. Helping others along the way… was just part of the path."

Before anything else could be said, another voice cut through the gathering—