Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Chapter 990: Killing with words

The suffocating pressure still blanketed the hidden city when a deep, resonant voice echoed across the ruins, carrying a weight that seemed to pierce straight into the hearts of every living being present.

”Interesting...”

The single word spread through the broken walls and shattered stone like thunder rolling through the heavens. And then—without warning—two figures materialized in the air above, stepping out from ripples of distorted space as though the void itself had opened its gates to them.

Every kneeling body trembled harder.

They were demons.

Both figures possessed towering, burly physiques that radiated sheer power, yet they were not clad in crude armor or barbaric hides like many lesser fiends. Instead, they wore flowing ancient garments—robes woven with black and crimson threads, embroidered with strange symbols that seemed to writhe when stared at too long, as if alive. The fabric shimmered faintly like an artifact of bygone eras, carrying an aura of age and authority.

Their skin was as dark as obsidian, pitch-black and glossy, veins of faint scarlet light glowing faintly beneath the surface like molten magma trapped under rock. Each of them bore two sharp, curved horns jutting proudly from their foreheads.

The horns were not uniform—jagged ridges ran across them like scars, and faint demonic runes glowed along their length, pulsing with ominous power.

The first demon appeared older—his face rugged, framed by long strands of white hair that fell to his shoulders. His crimson eyes glowed like dying embers, heavy with age yet sharpened with cunning and cruelty.

Wrinkles traced across his broad forehead, but they did nothing to diminish his terrifying presence; rather, they deepened it, like lines carved by centuries of battle and command. He radiated the aura of a general, a being who had crushed armies beneath his heel.

The second demon was younger. His body was even bulkier, his muscles rippling beneath the tight black fabric of his ancient robe. His horns were sharper, more polished, and glowed faintly with violet light at their tips.

His hair was jet black, slicked back, flowing down his broad shoulders. His crimson eyes burned hotter than the older demon’s—reckless, hungry, filled with arrogance and the wild flame of youth. Unlike the older one’s cold authority, this one exuded untamed savagery barely restrained by his robe of rank.

They hovered above the kneeling crowd like gods descending upon mortals. The pressure that had forced Divine Rank experts to their knees had been theirs, their mere existence bending the hidden city under absolute dominance.

Elder Liam’s pupils shrank to pinpoints as his trembling voice escaped his lips.

”D–Demons... in the flesh...”

Even Leone, the proud lion-blooded Direkin, growled weakly, blood dripping from his lips as his knees pressed against the stone. His golden flames sputtered under their shadow.

But still—one figure remained standing among them.

Max Morgan.

His chest rose and fell slowly, his eyes narrowed as he studied the two demons. The flames of arrogance in the younger one’s eyes flickered toward him, lingering longer than anywhere else. The older one’s expression remained unreadable, but the faint curve of his lips showed something rare—interest.

The older demon’s words rolled across the hidden city like the toll of a death knell. His tone was calm, almost casual, yet it carried with it the crushing weight of absolute authority.

”To think a mere human in the Champion Rank remain standing under my pressure...” his deep voice echoed, resonating through the bones of everyone present. His crimson eyes gleamed faintly as they fixed on Max. ”Truly deserving of the title of the strongest genius of the human race.”

Max’s heart thudded in his chest. Even though Ballion spoke without malice, the casual acknowledgment from this terrifying existence felt heavier than any praise he had ever received.

Then, slowly, the demon lord turned his head toward Leone. His expression remained calm, his ancient robes shifting gently with the unnatural pressure that still blanketed the city.

”I am quite disappointed with you, Leone. I had expected more from you.”

Leone’s lion-headed form shook violently. His golden flames flickered and sputtered as he lowered his head, his voice desperate. ”Master Ballion, please... give me one more chance...”

”Give you one more chance to do what?” Ballion’s voice did not rise; it remained steady, cold, detached. ”To let me see this failure again? A disappointment is a disappointment. And you know very well what disappointing me means... for all of you.”

The lion beast’s massive frame trembled, his claws scraping against the bloodstained ground. His golden mane seemed to dim as he forced the words out through his fangs. ”No—NO! Master Ballion, please... just one last chance!”

But Ballion did not even bother to glance at him again. His eyes remained forward, calm as still water. His lips parted slowly, and the words he spoke were not shouted, not roared, but whispered with chilling indifference.

”Kill yourselves.”

The command spread like a curse.

Leone’s roar of protest was cut short as his body spasmed violently, his flames turning inward, eating away at his flesh. All across the hidden city, Direkins froze in place as though their strings had been pulled. Their eyes glazed over, lifeless, before they turned on themselves with terrifying obedience.

Snake-bodied warriors sank their fangs into their own throats. Wolf-headed brutes drove their claws deep into their chests. Tiger-headed soldiers crushed their own skulls against the stone walls.

Some ignited their inner core, bursting into flames that devoured their flesh and bones. Others shattered their Soul Palaces with their own hands, their roars of agony echoing briefly before fading into silence.

Blood sprayed across the cracked stone streets. The stench of burning flesh rose thick into the air. Bodies fell like toppled pillars, one after another, until the city itself seemed to tremble beneath the weight of death.

Leone’s golden flames flickered violently one last time. His lion face twisted in horror and unwillingness as his body ignited from within. His final roar shook the air, a cry filled with desperation and despair, but it ended abruptly as his body collapsed into smoldering ash.

The once-mighty army of Direkins—beasts who had fought the Black Lotus Guild elders tooth and nail only moments ago—was gone. Wiped out by a single, casual command.

Not a rebellion. Not a struggle. Only silence.