Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 - Chapter 301

Chapter 301: Three Months of Time
Max’s eyes flickered with interest.

While he didn’t know Azula personally, he recognized two figures standing among the Monarch’s ranks.

Five and Veylin.

Their presence confirmed it.

She wasn’t just any member of the Monarch.

She was high-ranking. Respected. Feared.

Yet—his curiosity deepened.

Who was she really?

Just as Max was analyzing her, he noticed someone stepping forward.

King Magnar.

The air shifted immediately.

Tension crackled in the space between them as the ruler of the West Region walked directly toward Azula.

His voice was cold. Uncompromising. Absolute.

“You are in no position to do anything here.”

It wasn’t a request.

It was a command.

His words left no room for argument.

A clear warning.

Yet—Azula merely smiled.

Her golden eyes gleamed with amusement.

“Don’t worry.”

Her voice was light. Unbothered.

Then—she turned away from him entirely.

Her gaze landed on the twelve-layered Infernal Demon Door.

“I am not planning to do anything here anyway.”

She ran a hand over the air in front of the door, as if already visualizing what lay beyond it.

“I also want to enter the Mourning Depths. Just like all of you.”

Before King Magnar could respond, another voice cut through the air.

Palace Master Hugh.

His eyes were sharp, his tone strict. Authoritative.

“Then you should stay put until the entrance opens.”

A heavy silence followed.

Then—his next words carried even more weight.

“I don’t want a ruckus in my palace.”

For a brief moment, everyone waited.

Would she listen? Or would she escalate?

Azula’s lips curled.

She let out a soft sneer.

“Heh.”

But—she didn’t say anything else.

She simply stood there, an eerie smirk still on her face.

And yet—even in silence, her presence alone was suffocating.

The atmosphere in the hall changed completely.

Every expert from the Valora Continent became tense. Alert. Watching her every move.

Why wouldn’t they?

Her name alone was enough to make entire armies tremble.

A Name Drenched in Blood.

The Monarch was known for destruction. Conquest. Power.

And their leader, Young Monarch, was feared for his strength. His dominance. His sheer power.

But Azula?

She wasn’t feared for her strength.

She was feared for one reason only.

Cruelty.

Every city Monarch had slaughtered.

Every massacre. Every land they had decimated.

Every million they had butchered.

It was Azula who had led those assaults.

It was Azula who had painted the ground red with blood.

The air was thick with tension.

A silent, unspoken war waged beneath the surface.

No one moved. No one spoke unnecessarily.

All eyes were locked on Azula.

It was almost surreal.

Max had seen many powerful figures before, but never had he seen an entire hall—filled with the strongest experts of the Lower Domain—this on edge.

Even the leaders of the regions, the guild masters, the super family heads—all of them were watching her like a ticking time bomb.

‘Is she really that dangerous?’

He was surprised.

But not overly concerned.

‘I guess I can only wait here.’

Yet—there was something else bothering him.

He was standing beside Aurelia.

And he didn’t like it.

Not one bit.

The uncomfortable closeness made his mood dip.

But the funny thing?

Even Aurelia, someone who would normally never let him be near Alice, wasn’t making a move.

She couldn’t.

Not now. Not in front of everyone. Not with the hall frozen in an invisible deadlock.

So—Max did something amusing.

Since he was already here, he started talking to Alice.

Casually. Freely.

Right in front of Aurelia.

She was glaring at him.

He could feel it.

Her sharp, cold stare practically burning into his back.

But he?

He simply ignored her.

Kept talking with Alice as if nothing was wrong.

As if he had all the time in the world.

And just like that—time slipped away.

One hour passed.

The tension in the room remained, but something was about to change.

The Mourning Depths would soon open.

The old man returned, stepping forward with an unshakable presence.

His eyes swept across the gathered warriors, measuring them.

Then—he spoke.

“If you are prepared, then I shall open the rune formation.”

A hush fell over the hall.

The time had come.

The old man’s voice remained steady.

“Everyone is limited to three months within the Mourning Depths.”

A pause.

“If you do not emerge after three months, then you will be trapped inside… until the next time the rune formation opens.”

A few warriors tensed.

This wasn’t new information, but hearing it out loud—so formally—made it real.

Then—the old man’s voice lowered slightly.

His next words carried a weight heavier than the rune formation itself.

“But… since ancient times, if someone did not come out before three months…”

A sharp pause.

“They would completely vanish.”

A ripple passed through the crowd.

Vanished?

Not trapped.

Not dead.

But completely gone.

Never found.

Never seen again.

A legend? A mystery? A curse?

No one knew.

“In these three months, please… keep this in mind.”

Silence.

Then—the old man moved.

He reached into his spatial ring, pulling out three black glass beads.

Bone Frames.

Max’s eyes narrowed.

He had seen them before.

Not long ago, Klaus had shown them to him and Callie, making sure they understood what they were dealing with.

And now—they were being used to open the gate.

The old man walked forward, his movements precise.

Near the entrance, small grooves were carved into the floor.

Barely noticeable—unless you knew where to look.

He inserted the Bone Frames into these grooves—

Click.

A perfect fit.

Max watched carefully.

There was something eerie about it.

The way the Bone Frames slid into place so perfectly.

The way they seemed to pulse faintly, as if recognizing their purpose.

The moment the three Bone Frames were inserted—

The earth trembled.

A deep, ancient rumbling shook the entire hall.

The very ground beneath their feet seemed alive, responding to an unseen force.

Then—

Space twisted.

Just ahead, the air itself distorted, as if something was ripping through reality.

A moment later—

Space melted away.

A gate—not made of metal, nor stone, nor energy—but something far more esoteric and unnatural—opened in the void.

A spatial rift.

Beyond the gate, an expanse of endless gray mist stretched into infinity.

A realm where shadows twisted without shape.

Where the very air seemed thick with death.

Max felt it immediately.

A gate had opened before him—but not just a physical one.

Something deeper. Esoteric. Ancient.

Then—

A boundless, pure surge of death energy erupted from the rift.

It was cold. Suffocating. Heavy.

Not just the presence of death.

But something older than civilizations.

Something that had existed before even the oldest beings of the Lower Domain.

Max’s chest tightened slightly, not from fear—but from sheer oppression.

It was like standing before the remains of an extinct god.

Then—a voice echoed in his thoughts.

A voice he hadn’t heard in a while.

“So it’s this place… I… I’ve been here before.”

Max’s eyes widened slightly.

Blob.

“Oh?” Max’s mind immediately honed in. “You’ve been here before?”

It was unexpected—but it made sense.

Blob’s master had lived tens of thousands of years ago.

If anyone had explored the Mourning Depths before, it was him.

Blob’s voice carried a rare hint of nostalgia.

“I remember a little, but not too much. It was over ten thousand years ago, after all.”

A pause.

“Master spent over forty years inside this place… searching for a way to break into the Divine Rank. That was just before he broke into the Five God Nation for revenge.”

Max stiffened.

“Forty years?”

His mind raced.