Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Just as he finished speaking, a shadow slipped through the chaos—silent, quick.

It wasn’t like the others.

This one… was different.

An eerie skeletal creature emerged from the swirling mist—a twisted specter, its body a blend of translucent spirit and decaying bone. Its presence brought with it a chill that even Lucas felt. A ghost, but with the physicality of a cursed skeleton.

Before he could react—

It clung to him, phasing through his defenses like water through cracks.

”What—!?” Lucas tried to tear it off—

But it was too late.

With a sudden pulse of infernal energy, the creature lifted off, dragging Lucas screaming upward into the sky—into the forbidden sky of the Mourning Depths.

Within seconds, both Lucas and the ghostly entity had vanished into the swirling clouds above.

But Max didn’t stop.

Or rather—he couldn’t.

The black flames surrounding his head continued to swirl, forming a violent funnel around him. All the infernal energy in the area was drawn toward him like moths to a bonfire, vanishing into the vortex at terrifying speed.

”Max!” Blob’s voice echoed from within the Dimension of Spirit, laced with urgency. ”He’s gone! You need to stop! Your body won’t survive absorbing this much infernal energy!”

But Max’s reply came quickly.

”I can’t stop it!” he shouted back mentally, his voice strained. ”It’s not the flames—it’s my body. It’s like I’ve become a black hole for infernal energy. I’m not controlling this!”

Blob cursed loudly. ”Damn it!”

And so, Max stood at the center of the storm—arms at his sides, head bowed, the flames around him spinning like a whirlpool of destruction.

For ten… twenty… nearly thirty minutes, the storm continued.

Infernal energy rushed into him from every corner of the region. The very atmosphere seemed to thin out, robbed of its corruption.

Then, finally—

The black flames dimmed, collapsed inward…

And vanished.

Max exhaled slowly. He looked around. The fog was thinner now. The oppressive aura of infernal energy had all but disappeared.

”I don’t feel… anything,” he muttered, surprised. ”I just devoured enough infernal energy to destroy a small army, and I feel fine.”

He thought back to the last time he’d used infernal energy—when he powered the Evil Wheel of Samsara. Back then, even a small dose of it had wreaked havoc on his body.

But now?

Now it was like his body had accepted it.

CRACK!

The stone snakes coiling around him finally shattered under the renewed surge of his Draconic Essence.

Black scales glinted across his arms as he pushed forward, shattering the final pieces of his restraints.

And then—

He ran.

Max raced through the broken landscape of the Mourning Depths, scanning with his Three Dimensional Body for any trace of Lucas.

But there was nothing.

Not a flicker. Not a footprint.

Only after running for nearly an hour did Max finally come to a stop.

He stood there, breath steady, body pulsing with strange energy.

Then, with a quiet pop, Blob reappeared, floating beside him.

”Boy, are you okay?” he asked, scanning Max up and down. ”You devoured so much infernal energy back there… I honestly thought you’d explode like a cursed balloon.”

But Max only smiled—calm, steady, and… satisfied.

”I’m fine,” he said. ”In fact… I feel better than I’ve ever felt.”

Blob squinted at him, then frowned.

”Wait a minute… look at your hand.”

Max blinked and raised his right palm.

And then—

He sucked in a sharp breath.

The Infernal Demon Tattoo that had once displayed five concentric layers…

Now pulsed with eleven.

A blood-red symbol glowing with dark majesty.

”Eleven layers…” Max whispered.

He stood frozen.

Staring at the glowing mark on his palm.

Eleven layers.

His breath hitched.

This wasn’t just rare. It was unprecedented.

From everything he’d learned, eleven layers of the Infernal Demon Tattoo was the absolute peak anyone had ever reached in the Mourning Depths. The final threshold—just one step shy of the legendary twelfth layer.

A layer that, according to ancient records, would grant the bearer the power to form a domain—a territory of their own will, where they could manipulate the very fabric of space and law.

A layer that nobody in the history of the Lower Domain had ever reached in the Mourning Depths.

He wasn’t just close to it now.

He was knocking on its door.

Max’s voice trembled slightly, his mind still reeling. ”Did all that infernal energy I absorbed… pass through my body and go straight into the tattoo?”

He clenched his hand. ”But if that’s true, why didn’t I feel anything?”

No pain. No chaos. No backlash.

It didn’t make sense.

And then his eyes narrowed.

A realization hit him like a thunderclap.

”My physique…” he muttered. ”It has to be because of my physique.”

Blob nodded slowly. ”Yeah. That’s the only thing that explains it. Since the tattoo and infernal energy are bound to your body, your new physique is the only possible reason you were able to absorb that much infernal energy without being torn apart.”

But then, Blob’s face twisted slightly, lips pursed in mild confusion.

”Although… didn’t you say before that you couldn’t see the description of your physique?”

Max nodded grimly.

He raised his hand and summoned his status screen.

---

[Unholy Trinity Body]

– Rank: [--]

– Description: [--]

---

”Blank,” Max muttered, frustrated. ”Still nothing. No rank. No explanation. Nothing.”

Blob floated quietly, eyes narrowed in thought.

”That only confirms one thing,” he said at last. ”If your physique was powerful enough to trigger the Wrath of the World, then it must be something way beyond your current comprehension level. You’re just not strong enough to see its true nature yet.”

Max nodded slowly.

That was his theory too.

It made sense.

Still, the mystery of it gnawed at the edge of his mind like a whisper in the dark.

But that wasn’t all.

There was something else. A reward he hadn’t paid much attention to earlier. A title.

He summoned it.

And this time… he read it carefully.

---

[Deviant]

– Rank: [--]

– Description:

A being who defied the laws, shattered the rules, and spat in the face of the divine. One who walked paths forbidden, embraced truths unspoken, and carved a destiny no god had ever dared to imagine. They are the anomaly, the outlier, the impossible—proof that greatness is not granted, but seized.

---

Max stared at the screen, a heavy silence settling over him.

He read the words once.

Then twice.

And still, they didn’t feel any less ominous.

’This… doesn’t feel like a title,’ he thought. ’It feels like a warning.’

Every line of that description was laced with something dark. Defiance. Rebellion. Isolation. Power that came not from being chosen, but from seizing what others were never meant to touch.

It didn’t feel like a gift.

It felt like a brand.

A curse.

A mark carved into his fate, drawing the eyes of things best left unaware.

Max exhaled slowly, lowering his hand.

”I don’t know what path I’ve stepped onto,” he whispered, ”but I’m starting to think… there’s no turning back.”

And somewhere deep in his chest, the eleven-layered tattoo pulsed once—slow, steady, and hungry.

’I guess, I can reach the unprecedented twelve layers of Infernal Demon Tattoo with my ’Devour’ ability.’ Max thought his eyes gleaming.