Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 - Chapter 477

Chapter 477: Concept of Sword!
Just as every eye was drawn toward the oppressive pressure crashing down from above, something even more shocking happened—Max’s severed body, which had fallen toward the earth in two lifeless halves, suddenly flared with brilliant purple lightning.

The crackling energy wrapped around his torn form in an instant, warping and distorting it before the entire body shimmered like a mirage—and then vanished. Gone. As though it had never existed at all.

But no one needed to ask what had happened. They could all feel it—like a pulse of divine will echoing through the sky.

Far, far above them, high in the heavens where clouds had split apart under invisible force, stood Max—whole, alive, and cloaked in an aura that felt nothing like before.

He floated still and silent, his hair and tattered cloak fluttering in the airless altitude, his figure backlit by swirling currents of purple lightning. In his hand, raised straight toward the sky, was his sword—simple, yet impossibly sharp—and around him, the very Concept of Sword raged like a storm.

“It’s Max! He’s alive!” Princess Lenavira cried out in disbelief, her voice trembling between shock and joy.

The battlefield erupted into a mix of gasps and awe. King Magnar, Kate, Marcel, and Elarion all stared upward in stunned silence before sighs of relief escaped them. But even as breath returned to their lungs, their wide eyes showed how deeply shaken they were.

Only Aurelia, Ralph, and Klaus seemed calm—calmer than the rest—but it wasn’t because they weren’t surprised. No, even they had disbelief etched into their faces. They had suspected Max would survive—but not like this. Not while releasing a pressure that could bring nations to their knees.

Because what Max was unleashing now… was no ordinary Concept.

King Magnar’s gaze stayed fixed on the sky. “That’s… the Concept of Sword,” he muttered, voice low but heavy.

“Already?” Kate said, eyes narrowing. “He was in the tower for like what? Three months?”

“Less,” Marcel replied, still watching Max’s distant figure. “I have kept an eye on him the entire time he was in the tower. What a monster!” He had never seen anyone like Max ever in his life.

Elarion let out a quiet breath. “No one’s supposed to grasp a Concept that fast.”

Aurelia folded her arms, her tone more grounded. “It’s not just fast. The way it’s radiating… he didn’t just touch it—he mastered it. His mastery of Concept maybe on the same level as us.”

Ralph gave a short nod. “That’s not entry-level comprehension. That’s controlled pressure. Refined. Lethal.”

“And he’s aiming it straight at Drevon,” Klaus added, his voice steady but tense.

“Does he think a Concept alone could do something to Drevon?” King Magnar sighed but then he shook his head. “I sense his concept is very strong but he is against Drevon.”

The Concept of Sword rolled from Max in crushing waves. Each pulse was like a whisper in the wind—but a whisper sharp enough to split stone. The air twisted as invisible blades cut through it. The sky trembled as the sheer intent to sever rippled outward. Even the domain of reality itself seemed to be trembling beneath that intent.

It wasn’t just powerful.

It was refined. Deadly. Absolute.

And above all, it was targeted.

Every leader turned slowly, following the direction of Max’s raised blade—and all eyes fell on Drevon.

For the first time since arriving on the battlefield, the Young Monarch didn’t move. His face, usually calm and prideful, was dark and unreadable. His eyes narrowed, not in curiosity, but in cold, calculating discontent. Because while everyone else was still absorbing what had happened…

Drevon could feel it.

The Concept of Sword—its edge, its hunger, its wrath—was locked onto him. Not the army. Not the battlefield.

Him.

“Mastering a Concept this easily…” Drevon finally spoke, his voice cold and sharp, yet tinged with cruel amusement. His eyes narrowed as a twisted grin stretched across his face. “You really are her brother.”

His tone darkened, mocking, as if peeling back a secret none dared to mention. “Fine then. Bring it on. I’ll show you the difference between the strongest man in the Lower Domain… and the strongest genius.” His words rang clear across the air, heavy with confidence that only a man who had never tasted defeat could wield.

High above, Max stood unmoving, suspended in silence, his cloak torn and flapping in the sharp winds still lingering from the aftermath of his domain. His eyes were locked on Drevon, glowing not just with power, but with something deeper—resolve.

The moment he heard Drevon’s words, the corner of his lips lifted into a knowing smile, one not of arrogance, but of understanding. “Just as I thought…” he muttered to himself. That tone, that pride, that delusion of control… he needed to hear it. To confirm it.

And in the next instant, Max’s body flared with raw energy as he poured everything—every last drop of mana, essence, and will—into the sword raised high above him.

“Take it all!” he roared.

And the skies cracked.

The pressure that burst forth was nothing short of apocalyptic. The sheer weight of the Concept of Sword, now fully unleashed and supercharged with all of Max’s power, came crashing down like a divine hammer upon the battlefield. The wind screeched. The clouds spun apart. Space itself warped, folding slightly around the blade.

The leaders of both continents—Magnar, Kate, Elarion, Marcel, Aurelia—all staggered under the force of it. Even they, seasoned warriors at the peak of the Lower Domain, were caught off guard by the sheer gravity of the attack.

Below them, weaker Expert Rank warriors dropped from the sky like falling leaves, some crashing to the ground on their knees, their bodies trembling violently as blood trickled from their lips. They couldn’t withstand it. They weren’t meant to. This wasn’t a technique. It was a sword meant to cut everything.

“Concept of Severing Sword!” Max’s voice roared through the skies like thunder splitting the heavens in two.