Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 - Chapter 453

Chapter 453: A Monster

Closing his eyes, Max slowed his breathing, calming his mind. He extended his senses outward, allowing the Infernal Energy inside his body—and more importantly, the power of his Infernal Demon Tattoo—to reach out like invisible tendrils. Following that he took out the Abyss Devouring Sword too, sensing the evil energy from it.

Carefully, he began to trace the faint familiarity of the aura he had detected, connecting it with the subtle resonance that the corrupted Infernal Energy stirred within him.

It was like following the scent of smoke after a fire long extinguished, delicate and difficult, but Max could feel it… he was close, so close to finding the hidden rot inside the tower—

But just as he was about to truly grasp it, the air before him split open with a sudden sharpness, like glass cracking under a heavy blow.

A dark fissure appeared right in front of him, jagged and unnatural, and from it burst a hand—a hand shrouded in shadows, cold and unfeeling. Before Max could even react, the hand seized him by the arm, its grip impossibly strong.

A child like voice, calm but carrying a weight of authority that made Max’s heart jolt, echoed out from the crack.

“Max,” the voice said, almost with a sigh, “you really shouldn’t be doing things like this.”

And before Max could struggle, resist, or even ask who it was, the hand yanked him forcibly into the crack. His body was pulled through the tear in space like a stone dragged underwater, and in the blink of an eye, Max vanished from the Tower of Truth—disappearing into the unknown, leaving behind only the faint ripple of disturbed space where he had once stood.

The Tower Spirit, Xolo, was left utterly speechless as he watched the scene unfold. In all his existence, bound to the Tower of Truth since its very creation, he had never seen anything like it.

It had sensed countless anomalies, faced intrusions, felt fluctuations from geniuses training and even seen divine-level events from afar—but never, not once, had he witnessed someone invading the tower itself so effortlessly, bypassing every authority, including his own, and snatching someone away right under his nose.

It left a sour, bitter taste in his consciousness, a rare feeling for a spirit that was supposed to be above emotions.

“I was careless…” Xolo sighed deeply, his voice echoing softly across the empty halls of the tower. He could do nothing but acknowledge the fact. “But it seems whoever took Max away knew him… and had no ill intentions, at least not yet.” Still, unease lingered in the heart of the tower spirit, for the one who could do such a thing was not simple—not simple at all.

—

Meanwhile, Max suddenly found himself standing in a quiet, warmly lit room, its stone walls lined with faintly glowing runes that gave off a soothing, otherworldly aura. The shock of the sudden transition was still sinking into his mind when his eyes locked onto the figure standing a few steps away from him—a red-haired boy, about his own age, with a calm, almost lazy smile tugging at his lips.

Max’s body stiffened instinctively, and for a moment he could only stare, completely stunned. “You!… How did this happen?” he blurted out, his voice full of disbelief. It all clicked together painfully in his mind: he had been just about to track the corrupted infernal energy hidden near the Chamber of Concepts when, out of nowhere, a hand had burst through space and yanked him away.

In the chaos, he hadn’t been able to make sense of anything—but standing here now, looking at the boy before him, the truth hit him like a hammer.

The hand had belonged to this boy.

Lucien.

The same red-haired youth who had inspected his soul a while ago and gave Max a cure to his problem. The one who was known as the human guardian, about the same age as him, of the Elf Race. A figure surrounded by countless mysteries.

Never, even in his wildest thoughts, had Max imagined that Lucien would be the one behind the sudden abduction. His mind raced, full of questions, confusion, and a sharp tension rising in his chest.

“Max, what you were doing was truly reckless,” Lucien said, shaking his head with a sigh, as if he were a parent scolding a wayward child rather than someone who had just torn open space and kidnapped him out of the most secure place in the world.

Max, however, wasn’t in the mood to be lectured. His eyes narrowed sharply, tension thrumming through his entire body. “Who are you?!” he demanded, voice edged with disbelief and wariness. It wasn’t just shock—there was something deeply unsettling about this whole situation. No power above the Seeker Rank was supposed to even approach the Tower of Truth.

It was protected by ancient restrictions so strict that even mighty Kings and Emperors of distant lands dared not violate them. And if they did violate it, they would be dead for sure.

The laws woven into the Tower’s very foundation made sure of it. And yet, this boy—no, this being—had not only approached the tower, but he had opened a crack inside the tower itself and snatched Max out like plucking a pebble from a river.

Breaking every law, every boundary, every protection in place… and he stood here now, acting like he had done nothing out of the ordinary.

Lucien just chuckled lightly, grinning at Max with a mischievous spark in his golden-red eyes. “What? Have you forgotten me so soon?” he teased, the amusement in his voice genuine. “I’m Lucien, remember? The one who gave you a solution to your little soul problem.”

His grin widened as he stepped forward casually, as if the rules of the world simply didn’t apply to him. “And what did you do in return, hmm? Instead of quietly growing stronger like a good boy, you ran around poking at things you had no business touching. Creating problems for me.”

His tone was light, almost playful, but there was an undeniable weight underneath his words—a casual reminder that he had intervened once, and it wasn’t something Max could afford to take lightly.

Max’s fists clenched at his sides, a storm of emotions swirling inside him—confusion, anxious, caution—but deep down, a gnawing sense of helplessness too.

Whoever Lucien really was, he wasn’t someone Max could afford to treat like an enemy. Not yet. Not without understanding just what kind of monster he was truly dealing with.

“Don’t look at me like I’m some sort of monster, will ya?” Lucien said casually, waving his hand as if brushing away Max’s sharp, distrustful glare. But then, his playful demeanor faded slightly, replaced by a more serious, grounded expression. “I know who you are, Max. More importantly, I know what burden you’re carrying. You’ve been played… by the soul inhabiting Mark’s body. And the curse you bear, the Infernal Demon Tattoo, isn’t some random accident either.” His voice carried a strange sympathy, like he understood just how deep the chains around Max’s fate ran.

Max drew in a slow breath, forcing the turbulent emotions in his chest to settle. He couldn’t afford to be reckless here, not with someone like Lucien. Keeping his voice even, he asked, “Do you know who the soul controlling Mark really is? And I assume…” he added, his eyes narrowing, “you brought me here just so I couldn’t keep searching for what I was tracing earlier, right?”

Lucien smiled lightly, almost apologetically, like a teacher looking at a student who had finally asked the right question. “I do know,” he admitted, his voice calm. “I know the soul inside Mark, though we’ve never met face-to-face. We couldn’t. Not until about five months ago.”

Max’s mind immediately raced back, his eyes narrowing sharply as he pieced together the timeline. “Wait… five months ago… That was when—” He stopped, suspicion darkening his gaze.