Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 - Chapter 480

Chapter 480: Killed
“He’s… already comprehended the Concept of Space…” she muttered, disbelief coating every word. “That’s… that’s not supposed to be something you do in months. That’s not something anyone can just learn.”

She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t envious. She was speechless.

And the worst part?

From the look in Max’s eyes, from the stillness of his hand, and the expanding black void in the sky…

He wasn’t even done yet.

And just as Kate had feared, the tear in space began to stretch even further, growing long and jagged like a twisted black serpent slithering across the clear blue sky. It moved without sound but pulsed with such unnatural force that the very air distorted around it. The battlefield below was deathly silent, all eyes fixed on the monstrous rift that seemed to defy logic, balance, and even existence itself.

Then—a shift in the dust.

From the shattered crater in the earth, Drevon rose again.

He was no longer the composed, untouchable Young Monarch they all knew. His body floated upward, bloodied, his regal robes torn and scorched, streaks of crimson painting his limbs. Deep cuts marked his arms, and despite his still-burning aura, it was clear: he had been injured, badly.

Even with his Vital Essence shielding him, the force of Max’s last attack had broken through. His expression was grim, no longer arrogant—wary now. Focused. Eyes locked on Max like a beast backed into a corner.

“You’re alive. Good,” Max muttered with a cold grin, his eyes burning with golden light and spatial energy. “I’ve prepared another one just for you.”

Without giving Drevon even a second to speak, Max vanished—blinking instantly in front of him with a snap of space. Before Drevon could fully react, Max threw the elongated tear in space at him like a spear of nothingness.

Whoosh!

The moment the tear flew toward him, Drevon’s instincts screamed. He snarled and immediately summoned his Concept of Flames, roaring a wordless command into the air.

In an instant, a shield of pure flame erupted around him—blazing red and gold, thick and condensed like a molten wall, the flames crackling with power as they circled him in a vortex of defense. The entire sky lit up with the ferocity of his flame, the air itself igniting with heat as the monarch’s power surged to its peak.

But it wasn’t enough.

Because the tear in space—Max’s Dimensional Severance—was not bound by the laws of elements.

The tear didn’t explode, it didn’t clash with sound or force—it simply moved, and as it made contact with Drevon’s flaming shield, it began to eat.

The shield sizzled, roared, and fought back, the flames lashing out in all directions like a wild beast. For a moment, the sky was filled with fire and distortion, a fierce confrontation between raw elemental power and the cold, unnatural severing of space itself.

But the Concept of Space was superior.

Slowly, inevitably, the tear pushed through, devouring the flames not with violence, but with cold precision. The fire cracked, flickered, and then—extinguished, as though it had never existed.

Drevon’s eyes widened. “No—!”

But it was too late.

The tear reached him.

It didn’t just consume him—it unmade him. The spatial energy wrapped around his body, pulling him inward with silent force, his limbs stretching and tearing apart, not by explosion or blade—but by severance itself. His body twisted, his energy shattered, and his scream never even made it out.

Within seconds, Drevon’s form was completely pulled into the tear, and with a final shimmer—he was gone.

Not dead. Not unconscious.

Erased.

There was no body.

No blood.

Just nothing.

Where the strongest man in the Lower Domain once stood, there was now only quiet. Only sky. Only the aftermath of absolute erasure.

For a long, breathless moment, the world stood still.

Not a sound moved across the battlefield. No clashing weapons. No roaring flames. No trembling cries. Just silence. As if even the sky itself was stunned into stillness. All eyes—elves, demons, humans—leaders, soldiers, even the wounded—were locked on the space where Drevon had once stood… and was now gone.

Gone—not fallen, not defeated, not even slain in the traditional sense—but wiped out, his entire being consumed into the rift of space as if he had never existed at all.

It was Kate who spoke first, barely above a whisper, her voice hollow with disbelief.

“…He erased Drevon.”

Her words cut through the silence like a pin in a balloon, and suddenly, reactions burst all around.

King Magnar’s expression was unreadable, eyes flickering between awe and a deep, cold understanding. “The Young Monarch… defeated. Just like that.” He swallowed hard. “And not by an army… but by one boy.”

Marcel stared at Max as though seeing him for the first time, the usual lightness in his voice completely gone. “That was insane!”

Aurelia took a slow breath, murmuring, “He really do create wonders…” Her expression unreadable.

Even the demons, who had once sided with Drevon and surrounded the elves and humans like wolves, floated back with pale faces, some trembling. One of the Demon Lords muttered, “He killed Drevon… This human kid… We need to kill him for sure.”

All across the battlefield, heads turned, mouths fell open, some dropped their weapons. It didn’t matter what race they were, what side they had picked—what they had just witnessed defied every expectation, every belief, every legend they had grown up hearing.

Drevon—the untouchable, undefeated, unrivaled Young Monarch of the Valora Continent—had just been annihilated by a sixteen-year-old boy with pink eyes and a sword.

And that boy… was still standing.

“Did I… just kill him?” Max muttered under his breath, still floating in the air as a wave of exhaustion hit him like a collapsing mountain. The adrenaline, the pressure of invoking two Concepts, the mana drain, the burning remnants of his domain—all of it finally came crashing down on him at once.

His body, drained and battered, began to dip from the sky, slowly descending like a falling feather. But before he could fully fall, Princess Lenavira appeared beside him, catching his arm gently and supporting him with her presence and her aura.

“You killed him!” she said, her voice filled with breathless excitement, as if she herself couldn’t believe what she was saying, but still overjoyed. Her eyes sparkled, wide with awe as she looked at him—this boy, this anomaly, who had just done what no one else in the Lower Domain had ever dared dream of: defeat Drevon.

Max turned his head slightly to her, his breathing heavy, but his lips curled into a faint, tired smile. He let out a long breath, and for the first time in what felt like eternity, he felt peace.

Everything—his relentless training, his risks, his decision to unleash the Infernal Demon Domain, to wield not one but two Concepts—it had all been worth it. His body ached, but his soul was light.

“Let’s go. We need to heal you up,” Lenavira said gently, her tone softer now as she supported his weight with ease. “My mother’s just nearby. She’s one of the best healers among the elves. You’ll be alright.” She guided him slowly through the air, her arm steady beneath his, her presence comforting like a warm wind after a storm.

But just as they began to move, Max suddenly turned—his eyes snapping wide, breath catching in his throat. Something pulsed in the distance—an energy. Wrong. Familiar. Chilling.

His blood ran cold.

He stared back toward the crater… where Drevon had vanished… and yet…

Max’s voice came out barely above a whisper, but filled with dread.

“…No way.”