Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Pasch caught the diary effortlessly, flipping through the first few pages with a single, elegant hand. As his eyes scanned the text, a slight frown tugged at the corner of his lips, but he said nothing. Max watched him closely.

He wasn't just handing over a piece of history—he was making a choice. He believed that the Devil God Nation—even if long fallen—still posed a very real threat to the world. If there were more of those creatures—more demonic beings hidden away, sealed in ruins, dungeons, or citadels—then the Four God Nation needed to know. They needed to prepare.

Of course, not everything was in the diary.

Max had kept certain truths to himself—his own suspicions about the infernal energy, its connection to Mark, the strange reactions of infernal energy against the Devil God Bloodline, and the ominous link between the Devil God Nation and Mark.

Those were his burdens to carry, not the world's.

Pasch closed the diary slowly and looked up at Max again—his eyes unreadable.

"You did a good job. This information is far more valuable to the Four God Nation than you can imagine. You were right to share it with me." Guardian Pasch nodded with quiet appreciation, his voice calm but resolute. His gaze lingered on Max for a moment longer, as if silently acknowledging the weight of the decision Max had made—entrusting them with knowledge that could change the very balance of power in the realm.

Then, Pasch turned toward Elias and Aria, his expression regaining its composed authority. "I'll wait for you two for another month," he added.

"A month is enough," Elias replied firmly, his arms crossed. His tone was calm, but decisive. There wasn't much left for them in the Lower Domain. Their duty was nearing its end—once Max was taken to the Middle Domain, their responsibilities here would be fulfilled.

Pasch gave a slight nod, then, without another word, his figure shimmered and faded—vanishing like a passing wind, as though he was never there to begin with.

The air grew quiet for a moment before Aria turned to Max. "When will you leave?" she asked, her voice carrying the weight of concern, yet respect for Max's decision.

Max thought for a while, his gaze drifting toward the ocean horizon. "In one week," he finally said. "Give me just one week of time."

"Alright," Elias answered before Aria could. "We'll wait here—by the citadel—until then."

But almost as if mocking his words, a sudden tremor shook the air. The citadel, once a towering symbol of mystery and power floating in the sky, began to glow in a deep, pulsing red light. Everyone turned to look just in time to see it surge upward, propelled by a mysterious force.

The speed of its ascension was staggering, a blinding blur of crimson and ancient energy. A deafening boom rang out across the sky as a shockwave exploded in its wake, forcing everyone present to instinctively shield themselves and retreat several paces back.

They watched, stunned, as the entire citadel shot into the heavens like a spear of light—and vanished.

Elias's expression darkened instantly. He stood in stunned silence, processing what had just happened. After all, he had just said he would wait by the citadel, and now it was gone—ripped from the skies in front of their very eyes as if it had heard his words and decided otherwise.

"…You've got to be kidding me," he muttered under his breath.

"How about we accompany you this whole week?" Aria suggested softly, her tone sincere but laced with a quiet resolve. She wasn't just offering company—this was her way of trying to build trust, to show Max that not all alliances had to be forged with soul contracts and wary negotiations.

Max paused, considering it for a moment. Then he gave a small nod. "Alright. I guess I could use some help around here." A wicked grin crept across his face. "Let's go cause some destruction."

***

Later that day, the sky above the Monarch's fortress in the Central Region cracked with pressure as a massive group descended from the heavens like retribution.

They came from the citadel—those who had survived and thrived within it. Elarion and the elite elves of the Lost Continent. King Magnar, flanked by Kate, Ralph, and the rest of the Valora Continent's warriors. And standing at the center of it all, like the eye of a storm, were Max, Aria, and Elias.

The sheer force of their arrival sent tremors through the region. Powerful auras swept across the land like a tidal wave, and immediately, several powerful figures from the Monarch shot into the sky to confront the intrusion. Among them were Azula and the two remaining Commandments, their faces tight with confusion and brewing hostility.

"Magnar, have you lost your mind?" Azula snapped, her eyes burning with disdain. "To think you'd dare bring war to my doorstep. Are you begging for death?"

King Magnar didn't flinch. Instead, he laughed and cocked his chin toward the center of their group. "It's not me you should be worried about. It's him."

Azula followed his gaze—and the moment her eyes landed on Max, her expression twisted. Shock hit her first, then grief, and then, in the blink of an eye, it erupted into a volcano of hatred. Her aura exploded like a geyser of dark flame as her body surged forward, voice trembling with fury. "You bastard! You killed my son—DIE!"

She shot forward at blinding speed, intending to grab Max by the throat, to crush the life out of him with her own hands.

But then—everything stopped.

In the next instant, the entire sky seemed to freeze in place, and gasps echoed from the Monarch's forces. Azula's murderous momentum had come to a screeching halt not because she changed her mind, but because she was no longer in control. Her body hung still, frozen in the air—not by some force, not by magic.

By a hand.

Max's hand.

He stood unmoved, calm as ever, gripping her neck with a single hand like he had plucked a leaf from a branch. His fingers tightened slightly, and her breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide in disbelief. Not just at how fast he had moved—but how effortlessly he had overpowered her.

She didn't even see him move.

"You've killed so many innocent people," Max's voice was flat, emotionless, a blade dulled from too much blood. "Slaughtered cities. Committed atrocities… and I wouldn't have cared. But you and Drevon made a mistake." His eyes burned like coals. "You came after me."

Azula's pupils shook. Panic had long overtaken her pride. "No—wait, wait! Please! We have ties with the Guardians! Silus—Silus knows Drevon! He'll kill you—he'll—"

"Silus is already dead," Max said coldly.

Her heart stopped before her life did. With a final squeeze, her neck cracked. Then black flames erupted from Max's hand, engulfing her. There was no scream—only a choked gasp before she was reduced to cinders. Not even ash drifted away—she was erased.

"You bastard!!"

"You'll pay for this!"

The two Commandments roared, fury overwhelming sense as they launched their attacks. But Max didn't even blink. Twin flashes of blue light streaked through the air. A heartbeat later, their heads were severed, tumbling like lifeless fruit before their bodies crashed into the ruins below.