Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

“You’re not going to interfere?” Max asked sharply, his brows furrowing. With the kind of strength Lucian possessed, he could crush any army—human, elf, or demon—with just a wave of his hand. Why wasn’t he stepping in?

“This isn’t my fight,” Lucian replied with an easy smile, not a trace of worry on his face. Then, before Max could protest, Lucian stepped forward and gave him a gentle push toward the crack in space. Max barely had time to react before he stumbled through it, the world around him warping and twisting violently.

Just as Max’s figure disappeared, swallowed by the portal, Lucian’s smile faded into something quieter, more serious.

He turned back to his chair, sat down leisurely, and with an almost careless motion, picked up a pair of sleek VR glasses, slipping them onto his face like he had all the time in the world.

“This is your fight, Max,” he muttered softly, almost like a prayer whispered to the wind. “I hope you survive this…” And with that, he leaned back, disappearing into whatever virtual world he had decided to escape to, leaving Max to face whatever awaited him beyond the crack in space.

***

Max suddenly found himself standing in midair, suspended effortlessly above the endless blue stretch of an ocean. The salty wind whipped past him, carrying the scent of open waters, and when he turned his gaze to one side, he saw land—vast, green, and sprawling far into the distance.

His brows furrowed slightly. “Did he… send me to the edge of the Lost Continent?” Max muttered, confused.

The place felt like the boundary where the continent ended and the great ocean began, a desolate and exposed place where land and sea clashed in an eternal dance. Before he could ponder further, a familiar voice, sharp and tinged with surprise, called out to him from afar.

“Max! What are you doing here?” the voice shouted across the open skies.

Max turned swiftly toward the source, his sharp eyes narrowing—and what he saw made his heart jolt. A group was flying toward him, not just a few scattered individuals but a coordinated force. At the head of the group was Princess Lenavira, her long golden hair streaming behind her as she flew at high speed.

But she wasn’t alone. Surrounding her were elves, humans, and even demons, each group moving not separately but together, bound by a tension Max could feel even from a distance. And behind them—stretching out like a living tide—was an army. A true army.

Thousands upon thousands of figures flooded the skies and the earth below, a mixture of races that should have been at each other’s throats but instead were gathered together, weapons drawn, faces grim.

Max’s frown deepened. ‘What the hell is going on?’ he thought, feeling an uncomfortable knot tighten in his stomach. ‘Are they preparing to fight each other or something?’

It made no sense. The humans, elves, and demons—especially demons—weren’t exactly known for sitting down peacefully, much less amassing armies side by side. The sheer number of gathered forces was staggering, and the ominous energy radiating off them made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Something major was about to happen… and somehow, he had been thrown right into the middle of it.

Just then, without warning, Max’s soul trembled violently, sending a deep shudder through his entire being.

His instincts, sharpened by countless battles and near-death experiences, screamed at him to turn around—and he did, whipping his head towards the endless expanse of the ocean that stretched beyond the edge of the continent.

His eyes widened sharply as he stared into the distance, feeling something monumental approaching, something that made his yellow soul—flare up wildly.

“This!” Max gasped, his heart pounding, his mind struggling to comprehend the sheer pressure building in the air. It wasn’t just a feeling; it was a primal, soul-deep warning of an unstoppable force moving closer, growing more oppressive with each passing second.

“Kid, an army is approaching from the other end… from the Valora Continent,” Blob’s voice suddenly echoed in his mind, heavy and serious, confirming the dread blooming inside Max’s chest.

“An army? From Valora Continent?” Max’s eyes snapped even wider as realization crashed into him like a tidal wave. ‘So that’s what Lucian meant,’ he thought, his breath hitching. ‘An army…the arrival of guests.’

Understanding the gravity of the situation, Max immediately kicked off the air and flew back toward the main force, landing swiftly among the army of elves who had been advancing cautiously towards him.

He arrived before them, but his expression was grim, sharp, ready for whatever insanity was unfolding.

Princess Lenavira, who was standing near the front lines, turned to him instantly, her golden brows drawn tight in concern.

“What’s going on?” Max asked urgently, his voice low but intense, scanning the tense, tightly packed ranks of elves, humans, and even demons, all of whom stood in strange, uneasy alliance.

His mind was spinning—he had been gone for what felt like a day, maybe two, wandering the Tomb of the Sword Saint—and now it was like the entire world had been turned upside down in his absence.

A war between two continents? An invasion from the Valora Continent? The sheer scale of it was staggering.

“Where have you been?!” Princess Lenavira demanded, her frown deepening as she stepped closer, her golden hair whipping around her face with the force of her frustration. Her voice, usually so calm and poised, carried a sharp edge now. “I’ve been trying to contact you for two months!”

“Two months?!” Max blinked, stunned into silence as the words hit him like a punch to the gut.

‘Two months?!’ He had thought—no, he had been sure—that he had only spent a day, maybe two at most, reaching the peak of the Tomb of the Sword Saint and comprehending the Concept of Severing.

But now, standing here, hearing the truth from Lenavira’s own mouth, he realized the cruel reality. Time had flowed differently inside that otherworldly space. The days he lived had stretched into months outside.

‘I guess… the flow of time was different inside the Tomb of the Sword Saint,’ Max thought grimly, forcing himself to accept the strange phenomenon and pushing aside the wave of shock that threatened to rise. He didn’t have time to be rattled.

“I was lost in comprehension,” Max said quickly, lying without a hint of guilt, “and I couldn’t answer.” He needed to move the conversation forward—there were bigger things to worry about now. His eyes sharpened as he glanced at the massed armies stretching across the land. “What’s going on here? A war between two continents?”

Before Princess Lenavira could answer, a heavy laugh broke the tense air. Max turned his head sharply to see a large figure approaching—an imposing demon whose presence seemed to crush the air around him. The demon’s twisted smile stretched across his face as he stood towering before Max, radiating the unmistakable pressure of a peak Expert Rank.

“Heh,” the demon said, his voice dripping with mockery, “now that he is here, we don’t have to fight, right?”

Max’s eyes narrowed immediately, his instincts flaring with danger. He shifted his stance subtly, preparing for anything. Before he could respond, three more demons arrived, each one exuding the same terrifying aura of peak Expert Rank, surrounding him casually, as if sealing off every escape route without making it obvious.

Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!