Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Next came the black spear of war. Its roar split the infernal domain, its edge aiming straight for Mark's heart. Mark simply extended two fingers and caught the spear mid-flight. The battlefield illusion behind William collapsed instantly as the spear dissolved into a puff of smoke. William coughed blood, his body trembling as if centuries of wars had been ripped from him in an instant.

The thousand swords descended like a storm, sharp enough to sever laws themselves. They filled the skies with silver brilliance, stabbing at every angle. Mark didn't even move. His infernal energy expanded outward, a crimson pulse that rippled through the air.

The moment the red wave touched the swords, they shattered one after another, breaking like fragile glass against his will. The Palace Master gasped, clutching his chest as blood trickled from his mouth. His sword trembled in his hand, as if bowing to a higher existence.

The last attack came, the miniature sun blazing like the fury of the heavens. Its flames roared, devouring the domain itself as it rushed toward Mark. For a moment, it seemed even Mark's infernal energy could not consume the brilliance of a star. Mark looked up, his eyes glowing with sinister amusement. "Pathetic."

He raised his hand and clenched his fist. The infernal energy surged upward, wrapping around the sun like a serpent constricting its prey. The blazing sphere trembled, cracks appearing across its surface before it exploded with a thunderous roar.

Firestorms swept across the domain, yet instead of burning Mark, they were absorbed into his body. The Guild Master of the Eternal Sun Guild screamed, blood erupting from his lips as his body almost collapsed under the backlash.

When the light cleared, Mark stood untouched in the middle of the sky. His black hair fluttered in the infernal wind, his red eyes glowing with godlike contempt. Around him, the four strongest leaders of the human forces staggered, bloodied and pale, their strongest techniques annihilated like child's play.

Mark's voice echoed across the battlefield, calm yet suffocating. "Is that all the peak of humanity has to offer? You call yourselves leaders, yet your strength is not even worthy to entertain me. This is why you will lose. This is why your race will kneel."

"Take this!" Max roared, pressing his palms together as violet arcs of lightning surged violently around his body. His entire figure shone with blinding radiance as if his flesh itself had become a vessel for storm and destruction.

The sky above trembled. Clouds gathered in unnatural density, swirling into a vortex of black and violet. The air crackled with raw power, the atmosphere so charged that even the spectators felt their hairs stand on end. Bolts of violet lightning danced wildly, writhing across the heavens like serpents hungry for prey.

CRACKLE!

A deafening sound split the skies as a colossal dragon of violet lightning coiled down from the clouds. Its scales gleamed with endless arcs of electricity, its eyes burned with merciless fury, and its roar thundered like the judgment of the heavens. The sheer presence of the beast shook the Bright Buddha Palace to its foundations, its aura pressing on the hearts of both humans.

With an earth-shattering roar, the dragon descended. Its massive body crashed down upon Mark, wrapping him in a sea of violet destruction. The arena was drowned in brilliance, the ground beneath splitting apart and disintegrating into molten ash as wave after wave of lightning rained down.

The sky itself seemed torn, the air reeking of ozone and burning stone. For several seconds the beast ravaged everything in sight, an endless cascade of divine thunder meant to obliterate Mark from existence.

Finally, the dragon's body began to fade, its arcs dispersing into the storm clouds above. The violent flashes weakened, the oppressive pressure lessened, and soon only faint sparks fell from the air. Silence followed, heavy and suffocating.

When the last light disappeared, every gaze fell on the center of the storm.

Mark stood there, completely untouched. His black hair drifted in the lingering winds, his crimson eyes gleaming faintly with amusement. Not a single burn marred his skin. His aura remained steady, unshaken, as if the godlike lightning dragon had been nothing more than a child's tantrum.

"What?" Mark asked softly, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "Did you all truly believe that a little bit of lightning could hurt me?" His tone was calm, almost bored, but it carried an arrogance that pressed into the souls of everyone who heard it.

Max's heart sank. His breath grew shallow, his chest tightened. That lightning dragon was not just one of his strongest techniques, it was the strongest attack but it did nothing to Mark. At this moment he truly understood why Mark was called a God.

Despair crept across Max's face. His violet eyes dimmed turned to usual red as he stared at the figure before him, that man who called himself a god, who claimed immortality, who mocked him without lifting a finger. The realization struck him cold. His strongest attack, the power he believed could shake the heavens, had done nothing.

But Max had one more attack, he wanted to try.

Max's body shook as he forced every ounce of his power into one last desperate attack. His aura blazed, and the battlefield trembled beneath the weight of his intent. The four concepts within him surged to their peak.

The first to awaken was space. The third-level concept of Spatial Distortion bent the world itself as Max repeatedly folded a single point of reality upon itself. Again and again he forced the laws to twist, condense, and collapse until the distorted point resembled a tiny devouring hole. The air groaned around it, a crushing force pulling at stone, earth, and even the energy in the atmosphere.

Then came lightning. Violet sparks leapt into the hole, feeding it with unstable power. The distortion grew erratic, arcs snapping violently as if the fabric of existence itself was rejecting its presence.

Next, he poured in flames. Scarlet and gold roared across the distortion, feeding instability into instability. The devouring point now pulsed like a raging star on the verge of implosion, spewing heat that made the very air ripple.

Finally, Max unleashed his severing sword concept. Its edge cut across space itself, splitting apart the distortion and reforging it into something even deadlier. The devouring hole transformed into a vortex of annihilation, a miniature void tearing apart anything that came near, yet overflowing with sword intent sharp enough to cleave through laws themselves.

This was the technique he had forged in solitude within the Dimension of Time. Countless failed attempts had broken him down and rebuilt him, but now it lived, a creation of destruction. He had no name for it yet, only the certainty that it was his strongest strike aside from the violet lightning.