Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

After the warm meal filled with laughter and love, Max stood up from the dining table and politely thanked his mother and father, smiling with that same innocent grin that always made them proud. Then, humming softly to himself, he made his way back to his room, feeling full and content.

But the moment he stepped near the doorway, a chill ran down his spine. He stopped abruptly, his smile vanishing as a strange feeling crept over him. His senses, sharp even for a ten-year-old, tingled. Something was off.

’There are people inside…’ he thought, narrowing his eyes. Though he was just a kid, he wasn’t foolish—he had been trained, and he had instincts far beyond his age.

’Who could be in my room?’

Just then, his mother’s frantic voice rang directly into his ears, carried through vital essence sound transmission—”Max, Freya! Get out of the palace now! We are being attacked!”

Max froze. ’Attacked?’ His heart skipped a beat, panic bubbling inside him. But before he could take a single step back, the door to his room burst open, and several adult men stepped out silently, their faces cold and emotionless. In moments, they surrounded him from all sides, cutting off every escape route.

And what shocked him even more—they were all elves. Their long, pointed ears made it clear. His eyes widened, not just in fear but in realization.

’They’re here to assassinate me,’ he thought, his little fists tightening. But as the fear settled in his chest, a darker realization hit him like a blade—If they were hiding in my room… could there be others in Freya’s room too?

”Heh, we’ve been waiting patiently for this brat,” one of the elves sneered. ”And here he is, hesitating at the door.”

”He must’ve sensed us,” another one chuckled darkly. ”Did you all forget why we’re here? It’s just to kill this boy. The legend says he was born with a Divine Bloodline—just like his mother, only far more potent making his potential the strongest in the Divine Realm”

”So what?” another scoffed. ”He’ll die by our hands tonight. That’s all that matters.”

”Killing a genius before they grow is always a pleasure,” one said with a cruel grin. ”Especially someone like this one.”

Max stood in the center of them, his heart pounding like a drum. His small body trembled slightly, fear coursing through him like a river of ice. He had never felt so vulnerable, so cornered.

But then he looked at them—studied their movements, sensed their strength—and something within him shifted. His fear didn’t vanish, but it sharpened into clarity. ’They’re strong… but I can handle them.’

Broom!

Just then, the sky above the palace darkened—not from clouds, but from the sudden appearance of countless ancient battleships, each designed with glowing elven runes and towering like giants in the sky. Hundreds of them hovered in the air, forming a terrifying blockade above the once peaceful palace.

From every ship, squadrons of elves descended like a rain of silver, landing on the palace grounds in perfect formations. Hundreds of thousands of elven warriors poured in from the sky, armed and ready, turning the heavens above into a full-blown battlefield.

Max stood frozen, his eyes wide as he stared up at the overwhelming invasion. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing—his home, his safe place, was under siege. The air trembled with the sound of explosions, the clang of weapons, and the screams of those caught in the chaos.

One of the elves surrounding him stepped forward with a mocking sneer. ”Kid, you’re going to die anyway. So why not come with us quietly? There’s someone who wants to meet you. And if you behave, maybe—just maybe—he’ll spare your life.”

Max turned sharply toward the elf, his eyes narrowing. ”Why are you doing this? Why attack my family?”

The elf chuckled cruelly. ”Isn’t it obvious? It’s all to kill you. Everything happening here is because someone powerful doesn’t want you to grow up. Doesn’t want you to become what you’re meant to be.” He grinned wickedly. ”This… is all your fault.”

Max’s heart sank. He turned slowly, his eyes falling on the palace around him, now drowned in explosions and chaos.

The walls cracked and burned, the once-beautiful halls now coated in smoke and ash. Guards were fighting valiantly but were being overwhelmed. Loyal maids were slaughtered without mercy. The palace that had once felt so warm now looked like a crumbling ruin in the middle of war.

”So, if you want to survive—if you really want to live—follow us,” the elf said darkly. ”Or die painfully here, like the rest.”

A few moments passed in silence. The sounds of battle echoed around them. Then the elf asked again, ”So what did you decide?”

Max lowered his head, his voice quiet and hollow. ”I… I’ll follow you.” His bright eyes dulled for a moment, his voice empty like his heart had been broken.

”Hehe, good boy,” one of them laughed, and without another word, they led him away—towards the forest beside the palace.

Once there, they slowed down, clearly searching for something. ”Kid, wait here. Don’t try anything stupid,” one of them warned before turning to look around.

”Where’s Sir Xavier’s battleship?” one elf growled. ”He said it should be somewhere in this forest, but it’s not visible.”

”It has to be here. It’s probably under camouflage. Spread out, we’ll find it soon.”

The elves scattered slightly, searching through the thick foliage, unaware of the eyes burning behind them.

Max’s gaze sharpened like a blade. ’This is my chance,’ he thought, his hands slowly reaching behind his back.

From his hidden belt, he pulled out a sword—not a regular one, but a special blade his father had once given him, telling him to use it only in the worst situation. It shimmered with bright blue light, its hilt warm with a familiar power.

He gripped it tightly, raised it high—and swung with all his strength.

BOOM!

The blade released a surge of energy that roared through the forest like a crashing wave.

The elves turned, sensing danger—but it was already too late. The blue light tore through them in an instant, their bodies exploding into pieces, their screams silenced before they even began.

Blood splattered across the trees, painting the forest floor red. Limbs and armor clattered against rocks and roots as silence reclaimed the woods.