Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Only Max stood amid the swirling carnage with a faint, almost devious smile curling at the corner of his lips, a subtle glint of satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as the echoes of the elder’s sword strike faded into the blood-scented wind.

’My light energy really is the natural opposite of infernal energy... and vice versa,’ he mused silently, his mind drifting back to countless hours of intense training when he’d first begun exploring the power of his Heavenly Luminance Sacred Bloodline.

During those sessions, he’d made a fascinating, almost dangerous discovery: whenever he tried channeling his light energy while tapping into his Infernal Demon Transformation, a violent clash would erupt within his body, the two forces warring like sworn enemies.

It was as though the brilliant, pure radiance of his light energy and the dark, scorching malevolence of his infernal energy were mortal adversaries, locked in an eternal struggle to annihilate each other. They didn’t merely repel each other—they sought mutual destruction, each striving to erase the other from existence.

He remembered vividly how even a small experiment in combining the two had sent shockwaves of pain searing through his veins, like molten silver and pitch-black poison battling inside his very marrow.

That had been the day he fully realized: his light energy was the bane of his infernal energy—and vice versa. They were the embodiment of cosmic opposites, like day and night, light and shadow, forever irreconcilable.

And while Nulls weren’t purely creatures of infernal energy, they bore within them a fragment of something dark and terrible: Mark. Mark himself was the essence of infernal power—a corruptive, void-born energy that gave the Nulls their monstrous strength and twisted forms.

Max had long suspected that the same principles which made his light energy hostile to his own infernal side would also apply to these creatures carrying a sliver of that dark power within them. And he’d been right.

When he’d scattered the shimmering motes of his Heavenly Luminance onto Margo, it hadn’t merely been a clever ruse—it had been a deliberate exploitation of the Nulls’ deepest instincts.

Drawn by the radiance that opposed the darkness in their cores, the monsters had turned on Margo with frenzied bloodlust, as though driven by an irresistible compulsion to destroy the source of the energy that threatened to extinguish their very existence.

Max’s smile lingered for a heartbeat longer, tinged with a cool, calculating edge. Margo’s near-death experience had been no accident—it had been justice delivered under the cover of war.

But his satisfaction lasted barely a moment before a new ripple of danger tore through the battlefield like an unseen blade.

”Die, humans!” bellowed a voice that seemed to echo from every corner of the bloody plain at once, deep and guttural, thrumming with a resonance that made the very air vibrate.

Out of nowhere, a monstrous figure burst into the first circle, its arrival so sudden that even Max’s Three Dimensional Body only caught the flicker of motion a heartbeat too late.

The creature was an Ascendant in full Vesper transformation, its towering body sheathed in glistening black plates that seemed to ripple like liquid shadow under the shifting crimson light. Jagged horns curled from its skull like the spires of a demonic crown, and its eyes blazed with molten crimson light, each step it took sending tremors rippling through the blood-soaked ground.

Dark tendrils of void energy whipped around its limbs like living serpents, crackling with lethal force. Its aura alone was suffocating, pressing down on the battlefield like the weight of a collapsing mountain.

Without hesitation, the Ascendant lunged forward, a single massive claw sweeping through the ranks of experts gathered near the defensive lines. Screams erupted as hunters at the First and Second Levels of Champion Rank were caught in the monstrous arc of the attack, their bodies torn apart with horrifying ease. Blood sprayed in great fountains, painting the ground in deeper shades of red as limbs and torsos flew through the air, crashing to the earth like discarded puppets.

Max’s eyes snapped toward the creature.

”An Ascendant broke into the first circle from the second circle!” came a frantic shout, the voice cracking with panic as it carried over the clashing sounds of weapons and the monstrous shrieks of Nulls.

The warning ricocheted across the chaotic battlefield, heads snapping up even amid the thunder of combat, eyes widening as cultivators realized the gravity of what had just been unleashed upon them.

Elder Vance, a tall man with a mane of silver hair tied tightly behind his head and eyes sharp as honed blades, stood near the perimeter of the first circle, his robes fluttering in the hot winds stirred by the clash of spiritual energies.

His frown deepened, etched into lines of both concern and frustration as he watched the towering Ascendant rampage through the ranks of human cultivators. Each swing of the creature’s massive, clawed arms sent blood spraying in wild arcs, tearing apart hunters who scarcely had time to scream.

Limbs and torsos fell like felled timber, the ground littered with twisted corpses, their blood darkening the churned earth beneath the crimson sky.

Vance’s fingers twitched over the hilt of his sword, a muscle jumping along his jaw as his aura quivered with the urge to intervene. Everything in him screamed to act, to protect the young warriors who were now little more than prey under the monstrous Ascendant’s savage onslaught. But even as the desire burned hot within him, he felt a cold wall slam down upon his heart—a reminder of the brutal reality that bound his hands.

There was a reason the elders of the Hunter Association stood back during certain moments, even amid the blood and screams. The elders were indeed allowed—expected, even—to intervene against Nulls. They were the guardians, the final shields who would step in if the tide of mindless monsters threatened to breach the human lines beyond repair. But when it came to the Ascendants, the rules were different. Terrifyingly different.

A pact had been forged in blood and necessity between the two races: the senior Ascendants would refrain from interfering directly in humanity’s wars against the Nulls, maintaining a brutal yet fragile balance on the battlefield.

But if an elder—a figure representing the higher echelons of human strength—were to attack and kill an Ascendant, the consequences would be catastrophic. It would provoke the senior Ascendants to retaliate in kind, possibly with entire squads of high-ranking monsters launching assaults against the human strongholds.

Such an escalation could shatter the tenuous equilibrium and plunge the Middle Domain into chaos and mass slaughter, far beyond even the horrors already unfolding.

So Elder Vance stood frozen, forced to endure the wrenching sight of human experts dying by the dozens, his hands curled into white-knuckled fists at his sides. The helplessness ate at him like acid, each scream driving a fresh wound into his composure.

He cast his sharp gaze toward the second circle, silently willing someone—anyone—among the younger but powerful experts there to break away and enter the first circle to confront the Ascendant.

But even a quick scan of the distant battlefield told him the truth: the experts stationed in the second circle were locked in a brutal fight of their own, battling Ascendants like demons unleashed, each duel radiating lethal force that sent shockwaves rippling across the field.

Just as Elder Vance opened his mouth, ready to send an urgent message to First Elder Liam to plead for guidance—perhaps even permission to break the taboo—he caught a flicker of movement on the battlefield below.