Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100-Chapter 343: Moving Forward

"What are you going to do now?"

King Magnar's voice was low—careful. Like a man treading across thin, cracking ice.

Max turned slowly. His gaze swept across the gathered leaders like a cold blade, and when he spoke, his voice was ice.

"I've already marked every single one of the geniuses here… with my yellow soul."

He paused. Let the silence thicken. Then added,

"Which means…" he glanced at the stunned faces,

"…if I so much as sense a move from any of you—just one thought… and I can kill every single one of them."

The air froze.

Gasps broke out like shattering glass.

A sharp breath sucked in from dozens of mouths—fear, naked and raw, rippled across the camp.

Even King Magnar's expression flickered.

But for the others—those who had stood against Max—their blood ran cold.

In the East Region camp, the reaction was even more intense.

Kate's lips parted slightly, unable to speak.

She just stared at Max… unable to reconcile what she was seeing.

This wasn't the boy who shone like a beacon during the trials.

The boy who defeated genius after genius inside the temple.

The one everyone said had limitless potential.

No…

This was someone else.

This was a shadow. A storm.

A person born from hatred.

Kate only sighed at Max's fate.

Ralph stood a little behind the others, silent.

But his fists were clenched.

He had always believed in Max's strength, and maybe even admired him from afar… but now—

Now, he wasn't sure if what stood before them was the birth of a hero… or the rise of something else entirely.

Still, deep down, Ralph didn't blame Max.

Not for this.

He's just trying to survive...

But he also knew—

Max was walking a path darker than anyone else here could understand.

Meanwhile, Kheonne and Norton were trembling.

Literally trembling.

Their faces had lost all color. Cold sweat beaded down their backs.

They could feel it—this wasn't an empty threat.

This wasn't some bluff.

If Max wanted to, if he willed it, their geniuses… their children, disciples, heirs…

Gone. In a heartbeat.

And that reality terrified them.

But even more than fear—something else began to bloom inside them.

Hatred. Obsession. A desperate, consuming need.

'He can't be allowed to live.'

'He can't be allowed to grow.'

'We need to kill him… before it's too late.'

Across the gathering, the leaders of the guilds and the four great families stood in stunned silence.

Even those who hadn't planned to act against Max now understood something crucial:

This boy wasn't just powerful.

He was a variable.

A wild, dangerous, uncontrollable variable.

And still—

Aurelia's face was calm..

From beginning to end, she hadn't flinched, hadn't spoken, hadn't even blinked when her children fell under Max's crushing soul pressure.

She just watched.

Eyes cold.

Expression unreadable.

"Did I make myself clear?"

Max's voice rang out, sharp as a sword, calm as death.

His pink eyes swept across the leaders—the so-called paragons of power—who moments ago had plotted to kill him like scavengers circling prey.

One by one, they nodded.

Stiffly.

Reluctantly.

But they nodded.

Even the most arrogant among them lowered their heads, if only slightly.

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Only then did Max release the soul pressure.

The invisible weight lifted. The suffocating presence dissolved into the air like morning mist. And with it, the unconscious geniuses, still reeling from the aftershocks of Max's yellow soul, began to stir.

Slowly, cautiously, they returned to their senses.

Some gasped. Others coughed or collapsed to their knees, eyes dazed. Most had no idea what had just happened. Only a few—those with sharper perception—truly understood how close they'd been to death.

Because Max hadn't been bluffing.

He had really marked them.

It was a soul technique Blob had passed to him. With it, he could brand a soul—plant a wisp of his own yellow soul deep within another. And with a single thought, from any distance, he could shatter that soul like glass.

The technique had one flaw—it didn't last forever. A day, maybe two. But that was enough.

Plenty enough to keep them in check.

Kate broke the silence first, her voice subdued.

"Now that this… matter is settled," she glanced toward Max, then King Magnar, "what do we do? Do we push forward—or leave?"

All eyes turned to Magnar.

The King, silent for a moment, then looked toward Azula.

Her face was still dark, twisted with fury and grief, but she composed herself. Her voice came low and cold.

"We're in the same kind of trap the kids were. But we're lucky. This place is the 'Empty Zone.' If we can make it out of this field, I can still use the map to navigate."

Magnar gave a single nod, then turned back to Max.

"Can you get us out of this empty zone?"

Max didn't answer right away.

He looked down at the shimmering creature still hovering beside him—the tiny dragon-like fairy, made of soul light and will. It floated in the air as if tethered to his fate.

It's still here. That means it's not done yet, Max thought.

Maybe it was guiding him. Maybe it was baiting him.

But either way, it was the only thread they had.

"Last time, I sensed all your soul to come here," Max said at last, his voice measured. "But this time I am sensing something else. Something pulling me forward."

He glanced at King Magnar.

"I don't know if what lies ahead is good or bad. All I know is—it's the only lead we've got."

A long pause followed.

Then Magnar looked around. The other leaders met his gaze. Some nodded quietly. Some grimaced. But no one spoke against it.

"Alright," Magnar said, turning back. "Lead the way. Whatever comes next… we'll face it together."

Max's expression didn't change.

"I'll lead—but only on one condition."

His gaze snapped toward Azula like a dagger.

"She walks at the back of the group. If not… forget it. We'll all be stuck here."

That drew frowns. A few mutters. Even Magnar's brow furrowed.

But before he could respond—

Azula spoke first.

Her tone was colder than the wind.

"You can have your way for now, boy."

No resistance. No arguments. Just poison under her tongue.

Max stared at her a moment longer, then turned toward the fog.

The tiny soul dragon spun once in the air—beckoning him—before darting forward into the haze.

Max followed without hesitation.

Behind him, one by one, the leaders and geniuses began to move again, their footsteps wary, their eyes lingering on Max's back.