---
title: "Chapter 324: Deviant"
slug: "ch-324"
novel: "Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100"
number: 324
views: 0
likes: 0
wordCount: 1271
createdAt: "2026-04-13"
---

AGGGHHHHHH!!

A scream tore from his throat.

A cry so raw, so loud, it echoed across the vast expanse of the Mourning Depths, shaking the silence like a war horn from the heavens.

But more importantly—it worked.

"It worked!"

His voice returned. His lips could move again.

And then his vision cleared.

Light returned to his eyes. The blurred world sharpened into focus.

Then came sound—rushing back into his ears like a crashing wave. He could hear again.

And finally, the overwhelming paralysis faded.

The weakness drained from his limbs. His strength returned like a dam breaking.

Max stood tall, the blade still lodged deep in his thigh, blood trickling down his leg and pooling beneath him. But he didn't flinch.

His chest rose with each breath, steady and strong. His muscles tensed with power. His eyes—once foggy and dulled—now burned with fire.

All signs of weakness… gone.

"It's over," he said, voice trembling—not from fear, but from exhilaration. "All the restrictions… all that suffocating weakness that just fell on me out of nowhere—it's gone!"

The raw excitement in his voice made the air around him hum.

Blob floated beside him, a wide grin spreading across his gelatinous face. "Not just that, kid," he said, eyes twinkling. "Look up."

Max turned his gaze to the sky.

And what he saw nearly stole his breath.

His Manifestation—the towering black colossus that had been shrinking moments ago, reduced by the onslaught of the seven lightning dragons—was… growing.

Slowly at first. A flicker. A pulse. A shadow growing taller.

Then, steadily, unmistakably, it began to rise. Inch by inch. Foot by foot.

Its dark, imposing form regained height, regrew mass, like a mountain rebuilding itself after a storm. Even though the seven multicolored lightning dragons were still coiled around it—biting, tearing, devouring—the Manifestation didn't shrink.

It was reclaiming itself.

And then—everything changed.

Something happened that shocked not only Max, but every single soul who witnessed it.

The air turned still.

Time felt like it slowed.

And then, without warning—

One of the colossal's hands moved.

A slow, deliberate motion. It reached toward its neck, where a violet lightning dragon had its jaws locked onto its throat.

The hand grabbed the dragon.

Not with rage. Not with panic. With purpose.

It pulled the dragon down toward its chest—to the center of its being, where a heart would be.

Then, it pressed the dragon into itself.

And the dragon… vanished.

Consumed.

Swallowed whole by the very Manifestation it sought to destroy.

Max's eyes widened. "What… what is it doing…?"

Before he could finish, the other hand moved.

It caught a second dragon—this one green—and dragged it downward, slamming it into its core.

Gone.

One by one, the colossal's hands moved with blinding speed, seizing each dragon mid-bite and feeding them into itself. Their brilliant, destructive forms vanished into the Manifestation's dark core.

The dragons didn't resist.

They had no time.

The Manifestation was no longer just defending itself—it was devouring them.

One by one.

Red. Orange. Blue. Indigo. Yellow.

All of them—devoured.

Max could only watch in stunned silence, his heart pounding in awe and disbelief.

The world had tried to erase him.

The Seven Lightnings of Judgment had failed.

Then the divine executioners had come—seven dragons forged of cosmic lightning.

But now…

His fate was devouring the punishment.

The Manifestation didn't just survive.

It won.

Across the scattered cliffs and cracked plains of the Mourning Depths, the leaders of the Valora Continent stood rooted in place, their gazes fixed on the sky—every single one of them wide-eyed, stunned beyond reason.

What they had just witnessed defied every record, every law, and every myth they had ever known.

"…Now that was unexpected," one of the leaders muttered, his voice barely more than a breath. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself that what he saw had actually happened.

"True," another added, still blinking in disbelief. "For a moment, I was sure the colossal would be eaten by those seven lightning dragons. But instead… it devoured them."

"It turned the world's judgment into food," a third voice interjected. "Are we really supposed to believe the world itself failed to kill him? This is… this is ridiculous!"

They couldn't wrap their minds around it. The Wrath of the World—something feared even in the Middle Domain—had come for Max.

And yet, here he stood.

Alive.

Triumphant.

King Magnar said nothing. His face had darkened considerably, his expression carved from stone. He hadn't blinked since the dragons vanished. He didn't know whether to be awestruck or horrified.

He had watched the most powerful punishment the world could unleash… and it had failed.

Azula, on the other hand, wore an entirely different expression.

Her lips curled into a smile—a smile full of venom, ambition, and sinister intent.

"Well then," she said smoothly, "it looks like it's up to us to finish what the will of the world started. The world clearly wanted him dead. Perhaps we should take the hint."

Her voice was soft, but it carried weight. Temptation. Persuasion.

And more than one leader listened.

They didn't speak, not yet. But thoughts raced. If they succeeded where even the world had failed—could they receive its blessing? A reward from the very laws of existence?

A benefit from the will of the world… such a thing would be priceless.

"Look," someone whispered suddenly, pointing upward. "The clouds—they're dispersing."

And just like that, the final remnants of the black storm peeled away from the sky. The oppressive pressure lifted. The air grew lighter.

The clouds were gone.

And in their place, the hauntingly beautiful stars of the Mourning Depths returned—cold, still, and distant.

Max stared into the sky, his breath slow and steady.

Only now did it truly hit him.

He had survived the Wrath of the World.

"…It's over," he whispered.

Before him, the massive colossus—his Manifestation—began to tremble, its limbs shifting unnaturally. Then, it began to twist, to compress, to fold into itself, shrinking into a radiant ball of light.

The light shot forward.

In the blink of an eye, it pierced through the air and entered his chest, vanishing inside him like it had never existed outside to begin with.

Max exhaled deeply, a heavy sigh of relief.

"…It's really over," he said again, voice lighter.

"That was close," Blob said, floating beside him with a grin. "I honestly thought you were done for."

Max gave him a light smack on the head. "If I've got a partner like you, maybe dying is the easier route."

Blob wobbled, muttering something indignant under his breath.

But before Max could tease him further, a soft chime echoed in his mind.

Notifications lit up across his vision:

---

[Congratulations to Max Voidwalker for surviving the Wrath of the World.]

[Loading rewards…]

[Congratulations to Max Voidwalker for obtaining the title: Deviant.]

---

Max raised an eyebrow.

"Deviant, huh?" he smirked. "Sounds cool."

But before he could enjoy the title, another series of messages appeared:

---

[Abundant lightning energy detected within host's body…]

[Analyzing elemental thresholds…]

[Conditions met.]

[Congratulations to Max Voidwalker for awakening the Dimension of Lightning.]

---

Max's eyes widened.

"Dimension of Lightning?" he repeated under his breath.

Then—he smiled. A wide, wild, excited smile.

"…Now that's more like it."

Max exhaled deeply, the tension in his chest finally releasing.

It was over.

The Wrath of the World had come and gone.

He had survived.

The colossal had vanished into his body. The storm had passed. The stars of the Mourning Depths shone above once more, distant and silent.

And yet, just as he allowed himself that moment of peace—