---
title: "Chapter 382: Declaration"
slug: "ch-382"
novel: "Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100"
number: 382
views: 0
likes: 0
wordCount: 1213
createdAt: "2026-04-13"
---

A group of them approached, their presence just as commanding. Each one radiated a powerful aura, their strengths all high in the Seeker Rank. Elven guards, warriors, nobles perhaps. They walked with elegance, but there was no mistaking the steel in their eyes.

And leading them… was someone different.

He stepped forward, and the others instinctively gave him space.

He was tall, with long golden hair that shimmered like sunlight, similar in color to Lenavira's, but styled with meticulous care—combed neatly to the side. His face was long and noble, with sharp, arrogant eyes and the subtle smirk of someone who never had to fight for attention.

He wore elaborate robes lined with silver and emerald, with intricate patterns stitched into the fabric—clearly the attire of royalty.

But what drew Max's attention more than his looks… was his strength.

10th level of Seeker Rank. The absolute peak.

The elf's presence was crushing—like standing in front of a mountain ready to fall.

The demons fell silent. Even they didn't dare make a move right now.

Max, however, didn't take a single step back. His eyes met the elf's with calm indifference.

"So, kid…" the golden-haired elf said, his voice cool, arrogant, and laced with superiority. "Who are you really?"

The air was thick with tension, the crowd quiet, listening.

No sooner his words came out, another voice echoed through the hall, firm and cutting.

"Elliot," it said. "Whoever he is… it's none of the elves' concern, is it?"

Everyone turned toward the source.

A new group had arrived—humans. Their presence wasn't as overwhelming as the elves or demons, but they carried themselves with quiet confidence. At the front walked a young man with striking blue hair, styled neatly, his robes embroidered with subtle but dignified patterns.

His face was calm, expression unreadable—but the sharpness in his eyes said everything. He wasn't just some human cultivator. He was someone dangerous.

"Chris…" the golden-haired elf, Elliot, muttered, his face tightening in displeasure.

"Elliot," Chris said with a polite smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You should know. He's a human. That means he's my responsibility."

The words were gentle. But they left no room for argument.

"Chris… shut your sinking mouth," Elliot snapped, his voice venomous.

Chris didn't flinch. He just kept smiling calmly, like he was watching a child throw a tantrum.

In the middle of it all, Max stood silently, his eyes moving from the demons, to the elves, then finally to the humans—each group posturing, each one playing their own game.

A wide grin slowly stretched across his face.

Then he stepped forward.

"I'm Max Morgan," he said, his voice loud, clear, and filled with confidence. "Just a nobody from the Valora Continent—"

The words echoed across the great hall of the Tower of Truth.

The crowd stirred. Whispers spread like wildfire.

"Who?"

"Valora Continent?"

"A nobody dares stand there and—"

"—however," Max continued, his chin rising, eyes flashing with unshakable resolve, "I'll be the strongest genius of the entire Lower Domain—once I thrash every so-called genius this Lost Continent has to offer."

A hush fell.

Then laughter. Mocking. Scoffing.

Exactly what he wanted.

Max stood there with a small smirk playing on his lips. He hadn't said those words to earn applause. In fact, if he had his way, he would've preferred to stay under the radar.

But this place didn't reward shadows.

He had quickly realized—if he wanted to climb the tower fast, he needed fights. And to move up to the next floor, he needed ten consecutive victories.

In a place teeming with prideful geniuses, what better way to line up opponents than to challenge their pride?

Disdain, mockery, and outrage were all fuel for what he needed.

If they hated him, they'd challenge him.

And if they challenged him… he'd win.

One by one.

—-

Silence.

A thick, heavy silence.

For a few heartbeats, no one moved. No one spoke.

Then—

Princess Lenavira blinked, stunned. She turned toward Max, her composure breaking just slightly as she stared at him like he had lost his mind.

Even Crown Prince Aelric—who knew Max better than anyone—could only give a helpless, wry smile. Of course Max would say something like that.

But the others?

The demons?

The elves?

The humans of the Lost Continent?

They burst into laughter.

Loud. Unrestrained. Echoing across the tower's stone walls.

"Hah! Did he just say he'd beat all the geniuses of the Lost Continent?"

"Someone shut this guy up!"

"This is the best joke I've heard in weeks!"

"An Adept Rank human… talking about dominating the Lower Domain!"

They laughed like it was a festival.

But behind the laughter… there was something else.

Irritation. Arrogance. And a hint of disdain.

They all knew the truth—an unspoken fact shared between the races of the Lost Continent.

Humans from the foreign continent came here every now and then. They arrived in waves—eager explorers, wandering cultivators, ambitious geniuses hoping to prove themselves.

But without fail… they were disappointing.

Their talent, when compared to the natives of the Lost Continent, was below average at best. Their techniques, their bloodlines, their battle instincts—all lacking. In a land where demons, elves, and even local humans honed their strength in the Tower of Truth's brutal gauntlet, these foreigners always seemed a step behind.

And now, one of them—just a boy, barely at the first level of Adept Rank—had stood before demons, elves, and some of the strongest humans of the Lower Domain… and declared that he would thrash the geniuses of the Lost Continent?

It didn't just sound arrogant.

It sounded absurd.

A bad joke told with a straight face.

The laughter that erupted wasn't just amusement—it was scorn, mockery sharpened with superiority.

"He really thinks he's something."

"Typical foreigner—loud mouth, no spine."

"Let's see if he's still smiling when he meets one of the Ten Prodigies."

"He won't even make it past the second floor."

The natives of the continent laughed, making joke of Max's statement. To them, he was no different from the countless arrogant fools who came from across the sea with dreams bigger than their strength.

But amidst the laughter, Max didn't flinch.

He stood tall, arms crossed, wearing a faint smirk like he hadn't heard a single word they said.

"Aelric, let's go," Max said casually, turning toward the Crown Prince with a nod. "I've got a few matters to take care of."

He wasn't in a rush to climb the Tower of Truth—not yet. He would need to let them wait for a while to challenge him to increase their impatience level. Only then he would get challenges non-stop one after another.

Moreover—

What he needed now was information. Real, precise knowledge. About the tower. About the way it worked. And most importantly… about the elves.

That was his priority.

But as Max took a step forward, his path was cut off.

Elliot and his group of elves moved without hesitation, standing firmly in front of him, forming a neat, elegant blockade. Their faces were calm—too calm—but their eyes were sharp and unwelcoming.

"Where do you think you're going?" Elliot asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You couldn't possibly think you can just walk away after making a declaration like that, could you?"