---
title: "Chapter 979: Demons"
slug: "ch-985"
novel: "Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100"
number: 985
views: 0
likes: 0
wordCount: 1172
createdAt: "2026-04-15"
---

The wall sealed shut behind him, and Max’s boots pressed onto smooth stone—silent, precise. The underground was nothing like he expected. A vast hall stretched before him, carved directly into the earth yet humming with runes embedded in every surface.

The ceiling arched high above, glowing faintly with threads of mana light, just enough to cast an eerie twilight across the chamber. Dozens of doors lined the walls, symmetrical, like cells or passages leading deeper into some hidden labyrinth.

The air was heavy, dense with a strange pressure that pressed on his chest and whispered that this place wasn’t meant for human eyes.

Max slowed his steps, melding with the shadows, letting his breath melt away into nothing. The three masked figures walked forward into the hall’s center with that same unnerving, puppet-like gait. He expected them to scatter, to vanish into one of the many doors—but instead, they stopped.

Then—something shifted.

Each of the masked men reached up and unlatched the metal strapped across their faces. The sound was soft, but to Max, it might as well have been thunder. He narrowed his eyes, watching closely.

The moment their masks came free, the unimaginable unfolded.

Their bodies convulsed, trembling as though shedding invisible chains. Muscles swelled, expanding into thick, bulging cords of raw strength. Skin darkened, stretched, then split apart in patches as coarse hair burst forth like wildfire. The sound was grotesque—bones snapping, joints realigning, flesh tearing and knitting again.

Their human silhouettes twisted into hulking monstrosities, towering a head taller than before.

Max’s gaze sharpened, cold as steel.

The first one’s head elongated, the mask clattering to the floor as his face split and reshaped into a predator’s muzzle. Spots crawled across his fur as sharp fangs gleamed under the dim light. A cheetah’s head sat atop his massive body, its golden eyes glowing with hunger and violence.

The second was worse. His skull expanded, forehead jutting forward with a grotesque crunch. Two thick horns spiraled from his brow, curling upward like the peaks of a storm. His nose flattened into the long snout of a beast, his mouth bristling with jagged teeth.

The heavy, pounding breath that escaped him shook the air itself. A minotaur-like monster, but not cow-born—no, this one was closer to a warhorse, brutal and untamed, its mane-like hair streaked across his neck as his horns gleamed with murderous intent.

And the last—Max’s eyes narrowed. The head that emerged was avian, yes, but unlike any bird he knew. Beak curved, sharp enough to cut steel, while feathers slicked back like black blades. Its eyes glowed pale green, not the warmth of life but the chill of death itself. He had seen eagles, hawks, even phoenix illustrations in ancient texts—but this was none of them.

This bird carried something alien, something not of this world.

Max’s breath slowed, heart steady despite the storm raging before him.

’Not human... not even close. Demonic beasts—no... hybrids? Camouflaged among men, walking the city above. And if they’re here, hiding under the guise of masks... how many more are there?’

The three creatures exhaled in unison, shoulders rising and falling as though finally freed from suffocating bindings. Their monstrous forms filled the underground hall, claws scraping against the stone floor, tails lashing and wings twitching faintly at the edge of perception.

Max’s eyes narrowed as the truth settled like a blade pressing against his neck. The monsters before him—cheetah-head, horned beast, and the bird-like abomination—moved with unsettling ease now that their disguises were gone.

Their guttural breaths filled the vast hall, clawed hands flexing like predators waiting for prey.

And then—Blob’s voice echoed in his mind, low and grave.

"So I was right."

Max froze, every sense taut.

"They are demons, Max. The demons that invaded our world ten thousand years ago—even before the descent of the Nulls."

Demons.

The word sent a cold shiver racing down Max’s spine. His mind immediately pulled at fragments of memory—Kevin’s voice echoing in his head, speaking of an ancient war, of mankind uniting to push back an invasion unlike any other.

Kevin had said they won. That the demons had been annihilated or sealed away beyond reach. That Chapter of history was supposed to be closed.

But here they were. Alive. Breathing. Walking beneath the very cities of the Middle Domain.

"Demons?" Max whispered inwardly, his pupils contracting. ’If they were truly sealed, then how are they standing before me now? Did the seals break? Or were they never complete to begin with?’

The bird-headed demon tilted its skull, as if listening to whispers Max couldn’t hear. His knuckles whitened against the stone he leaned on.

"What is the connection between these demons and the demons we saw in the Lost Continent?" Max finally asked, his thoughts cutting sharply to that memory. He could still see their twisted forms, their cruel eyes, their hunger for blood. But they looked very different from the demons on the Lost Continent.

They had also been called demons—yet they looked different. Savage, yes, but not like the monsters standing before him now.

Blob’s reply carried weight, each word landing like thunder.

"If I am not wrong, the demons in the Lost Continent should have some connections to these very demons. Their hatred for humanity runs too deep for it to be coincidence. And I suspect there is a reason—something vast, something hidden—that fuels it."

The image of endless red plains and shrieking hordes of the Lost Continent burned into Max’s mind. The countless bodies he had cut down. The unrelenting malice in their eyes. ’If those were connected to this... then what kind of enemy are we truly facing?’

Blob continued, voice heavy and solemn.

"But mark my words, Max—what you are looking at now, these things... they are not the true demons. I have read the accounts of the Demon War. These ones are but slaves. Pawns. They were the frontline beasts—the foot soldiers true demons crafted to carry out their will."

Max’s jaw tightened. His gaze slid from the cheetah-headed demon to the horned beast, to the avian horror. Strong as they looked, Blob was telling him they weren’t the real threat.

"If my guess isn’t wrong," Blob went on, "then the true demons—the ones who led the invasion ten thousand years ago—must bear closer resemblance to those in the Lost Continent. The ones you already faced."

Max exhaled slowly, though his chest felt like a weight pressed down on it. His thoughts twisted sharply, hard and cold.

’So the Lost Continent was more than just some cursed wasteland.’

His face darkened, growing increasingly solemn as his mind put the pieces together. The implications were vast, terrifying.

Then a flicker of relief broke through the storm of his thoughts.

’It’s good that I chose to eradicate the demons completely from the Lost Continent.’ Max’s chest loosened slightly, remembering the piles of corpses he left in his wake.

He sighed inwardly, but his eyes never softened. They stayed locked on the demons in front of him.