Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 - Chapter 331

Chapter 331: Safe Zone
As they continued forward, the dense fog around them only grew thicker, and the oppressive air of the 1,500-mile forbidden zone loomed just ahead. None of them said anything more. Whether because of fatigue, nerves, or the ever-present sense of danger that surrounded them—silence returned.

Some time later, as the squad continued forward, the thick fog ahead began to shift—wavering like smoke stirred by a faint breeze.

And then—

silhouettes.

Faint. Unmoving.

Distant shadows hidden deep within the mist, their outlines blurred and wavering.

“Are those… infernal beings?” Crown Prince Aelric muttered, instantly on alert, his hand drifting toward the hilt of his weapon. His gaze sharpened, watching the figures like a hawk.

But the old man leading them raised his hand calmly, signaling him to stand down.

“It’s fine,” he said, his voice quiet but certain. He didn’t explain further.

The squad kept moving, their footsteps cautious but steady.

And then, as they pierced through the dense curtain of fog, the blurry silhouettes came into full view—

And everyone in the group stopped.

Eyes widened. Jaws slightly parted in surprise.

Standing before them were hundreds of people.

“This is the 1,500-mile resting zone,” the old man said, glancing sideways at Aelric. “Any further from this point, and you’ll cross into the forbidden zone. But this area here… it’s the safest place within the Mourning Depths. Relatively, at least. Few infernal beings wander this close to the boundary.”

Relief washed over Aelric’s face. He exhaled slowly and nodded. “Let’s go meet the others.”

Together, he and the rest of the squad stepped forward, walking toward the gathered crowd of warriors and cultivators—people who had arrived ahead of them, many of whom bore the same tired expressions, bloodstained clothes, and weathered eyes.

Before they could fully merge into the group, a middle-aged man stepped forward to greet them.

“Well, the 16th squad finally makes it,” he said, arms crossed. His gaze moved toward the old man who had led them through the fog. “And you’re still guiding them, huh? Old Man Jury… You’re down to seven.”

Jury gave a short nod. “Yeah. Some deaths are inevitable, Harry,” he said grimly, eyes scanning the crowd. “We lost a few along the way. The deeper we go, the worse it gets.”

His gaze swept over the resting zone. Tents had been hastily pitched. Some people were sitting on the ground meditating, others patching wounds, sharing food, or whispering about the terrors they’d seen.

“A total of sixteen squads have arrived, including ours,” Jury said slowly.

“That leaves only three more unaccounted for.”

Harry nodded with a sigh. “We wait. They’ve still got time.”

Meanwhile, Aelric and the rest of his squad had already begun to mingle with the other arrivals, exchanging greetings and information—talking about the horrors they faced, near-death experiences, and rumors of strange phenomena deeper within the Mourning Depths.

Everyone’s topic had been the colossal and the seven lightning dragons. What they saw certainly shocked them and therefore this topic became the center of attention of the discussions they were having.

For a moment, there was some sense of unity, of shared purpose.

But Alice wasn’t part of the conversation.

She stood off to the side, her phoenix cloak faintly glowing, eyes scanning the crowd.

Her heart beat a little faster.

She wasn’t listening to the others—not really.

She was searching.

Scanning every face. Every figure. Every silhouette that emerged from the mist.

But she couldn’t find the one person she was looking for.

“I don’t see Max here…” Crown Prince Aelric suddenly said, his voice breaking through the murmur of conversation. He stood still, eyes sweeping across the gathering, scanning each group of survivors, each familiar face.

But Max was nowhere in sight.

Alice stiffened slightly at his words, her gaze dropping to the ground.

“Three squads still haven’t arrived,” Amelia said, trying to offer some reassurance. “He’s probably in one of them.”

“He’ll be fine,” Jack added with an easy smile, though even he glanced toward the fog with a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

Just then, a voice rang out—clear and loud, cutting through the heavy air like a blade.

“Everyone, listen up!”

All eyes turned toward the man who had just stepped forward from among the crowd.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with the confidence of someone used to commanding attention.

“I am Mark Vendor,” he announced, his voice echoing through the stillness, “and from here on, I will be taking charge.”

He turned slowly, surveying the hundreds of geniuses gathered in the resting zone—many still weary from their journey, some wounded, others too quiet for comfort.

“The squad leaders, as you all know, will not be going beyond this point. They’ll wait here. But we—” he gestured toward the younger cultivators “—we’ll be entering the 1,500-mile forbidden zone.”

His tone grew more serious.

“And in there, there’s no room for chaos. If we go in divided, we die divided. So we need order. We need leadership. We need someone to coordinate this exploration, to ensure no one gets left behind, and that our efforts don’t turn into suicide.”

There was a murmur among the gathered geniuses—some nodding in agreement, others watching cautiously.

Then Mark’s eyes slowly turned—locking onto Aelric.

There was no mistaking the meaning behind that gaze.

Only Crown Prince Aelric had the nobility, the reputation, and the sheer authority to stand opposite Mark Vendor. And both men knew it.

Mark was the son of the Palace Master Hugh of the Divine Palace. His authority was also very high just like Crown Prince Aelric.

The tension in the air sharpened.

This wasn’t just about organizing an expedition.

This was about who would lead the best of the best—and who would stand at the top of the younger generation within the Mourning Depths.

“Look! Another squad just arrived!”

A voice cried out from the crowd, drawing everyone’s attention toward the foggy path they had come from.

Out of the thick mist emerged a battered group of figures—the same squad Max had once been part of, now led solely by the seasoned and battle-worn Old Man Grey. Their clothes were torn, weapons dulled, expressions tense and exhausted.

But it wasn’t their arrival that caused the stir.

It was the look on Old Man Grey’s face.

His usually composed demeanor had cracked wide open, replaced by pure panic.

“EVERYONE, RUN!” he roared, voice booming across the resting zone. “A wave of infernal energy is heading straight for us—carrying beasts of every kind! Move! RUN!”

He pointed ahead—