Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 - Chapter 379

Chapter 379: An ODD one
What greeted them was a vast interior chamber teeming with life.

Dozens—no, hundreds—of cultivators from countless races crowded the enormous hall. But even with such diversity, one could see the clear dominance of three: humans, demons, and elves. Their presence filled the space, each group clustered loosely around their own, but all drawn toward the same thing.

At the heart of the chamber was a large arena—circular, raised, and surrounded on all sides by the crowd.

Inside, two figures clashed violently.

A human and a demon.

They moved like shadows and lightning, exchanging rapid blows. But it didn’t take long for Max to see the truth—the demon was winning. His strikes were sharper, his reactions faster. He fought with the ease of someone toying with his opponent.

Then, in a sudden shift of momentum, the demon slipped past the human’s guard.

One punch landed—then another. And another.

Fists crashed against flesh as the human stumbled, blood flying from his mouth with each hit.

And then it was over.

The human collapsed—lifeless.

The crowd erupted. Not in shock. Not in grief. But in mockery.

“Hah! Humans are always weak,” a sneering voice rang out from the demon crowd.

“True,” another agreed with a laugh. “Especially the ones on the lower floors.”

“Yeah, half of them barely even reach the first or second level of Seeker Rank, and they think they can climb the tower?”

“Humans are trash. Through and through.”

Their scorn echoed throughout the chamber.

Max’s expression didn’t change. But deep inside, something flared. Not anger—yet. But a quiet tension. A building heat. One that might not stay buried for long.

“So,” Max said casually, turning his head toward Princess Lenavira as they watched the arena. “What are the rules of the tower? Care to explain?”

Lenavira opened her mouth to respond—but didn’t get the chance.

Before a single word could leave her lips, a wave of movement swept through the hall. From across the chamber, a group of elves—tall, elegant, radiating grace and pride—had spotted her.

In an instant, they descended.

“Princess Lenavira!” one of them called out, rushing forward.

The rest quickly surrounded her, forming a loose circle of gleaming armor and long robes, their expressions a mix of surprise and concern.

“What are you doing here, Your Highness?”

“And who is this human with you?” another demanded, eyes darting toward Max. “Why are you walking beside him so casually?”

But then—something shifted.

One of the elves took a half-step back, his eyes narrowing.

“Wait… wait a minute…”

He stared at Max, his pupils dilating slightly. “What is this… feeling?”

Others turned toward Max as well, their brows furrowing. The air around him was calm, but something beneath it made their blood stir. A quiet pressure. A strange pull. Something primal. Something… ancient.

“Princess Lenavira…” one whispered, barely able to tear his gaze from Max. “What is happening here?”

Another spoke, his voice low, almost fearful. “Could he be…?”

They didn’t finish the thought.

But the air had changed. The casual arrogance that elves usually carried was gone—replaced with unease. Reverence. Instinctive caution.

Max simply stood still, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

Whatever they were sensing from him—it was real. And it was shaking them to their core.

‘Are they sensing something from me? A pressure?’ Max frowned, watching the sudden shift in the elves’ expressions.

Their confident postures had faltered. Some looked uneasy. Others hesitant. And all of them were staring directly at him.

But Max wasn’t doing anything.

No aura release. No killing intent. Not even a ripple of power leaking out of him.

That made it all the more strange.

He furrowed his brow slightly, trying to make sense of their reaction. ‘Elves are supposed to be extremely sensitive to energy. They use mana that’s purer and more refined than what humans manipulate. Their perception should be sharper, not confused.’

So how—how—could they be feeling pressure from him, when he was perfectly still?

His thoughts briefly drifted to the Infernal Demon Tattoo etched deep into his soul. But no… that couldn’t be it. He would’ve known. That infernal energy, volatile and destructive, was completely dormant right now. Quiet. Asleep.

And yet…

Their blood was reacting to something.

Max’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘It’s not the infernal energy… then what is it?’

Just then—

“You all, keep quiet!”

The sudden voice cut through the chatter like a blade.

The gathered elves froze as a new figure stepped into the hall—an elf with long green hair, dressed in finely woven robes that shimmered with enchantments. His presence alone made the air feel heavier. His gaze swept over the crowd, cold and commanding.

He didn’t shout. He didn’t need to.

Whatever he had just said through sound transmission, it worked. The other elves stiffened, then lowered their heads slightly, falling silent at once. No one dared speak again in his presence.

Max glanced at him. ‘He didn’t even move his lips… Sound transmission?’ He realized. ‘And judging by their reaction, he’s someone with weight.’

But before he could think further, a sharp voice called out—cutting across the entire hall.

“Hey! You, human!”

Max turned his head toward the arena.

A demon stood at its center, broad-shouldered and grinning like a predator. His skin was dark crimson, his eyes glowing faintly with a golden hue, and sharp horns curled back from his temples. His aura was oppressive—solid, steady.

Level 3 Seeker Rank.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you,” the demon sneered, pointing a clawed finger. “The human standing in the middle of all those elves like you belong there.”

A few demons chuckled from the sidelines.

“You’re only at Level 1 of the Adept Rank, and yet you walk into the Tower of Truth? You’ve got some guts for a human. Or maybe… just a death wish.”

Laughter broke out among the demons, harsh and mocking.

The elves didn’t laugh—but many exchanged looks. Some shook their heads. A few even sighed in advance, as if they were already preparing for the inevitable.

Max stared at the demon, then glanced at the arena floor. His eyes narrowed slightly—not from fear, but from focus.

“And since you’re here,” the demon continued, his tone darker now, “I’m guessing you’re ready to fight, yeah?”

Max rolled his shoulders. “Yeah,” he said calmly. “I’ve been wanting to see what a battle in this place feels like.”

Then, without another word, Max jumped. His black robes fluttered as he soared through the air, flipping midair before landing on the arena floor with a soft thud.

The hall went silent.

Demons blinked in disbelief. Elves stiffened. Even the green-haired elf raised an eyebrow.

A human. Level 1 Adept Rank. Voluntarily stepping into the arena… against a Level 3 Seeker Rank demon?

A murmur rolled through the crowd like a wave.

“Is he insane?”

“He’s gonna get flattened.”

“That’s got to be the dumbest human I’ve ever seen.”

“Maybe he’s trying to die quickly.”

“Even for trash-tier humans, this is something else.”

Demons were sneering openly now, grins spreading across their faces. To them, this was entertainment. A massacre in the making.

Elves, while more reserved, weren’t much kinder. Some whispered quietly. Others simply looked away, already predicting the outcome.

But while the demons laughed and the elves sneered, there was one group that didn’t share their scorn.