---
title: "Chapter 352: All thoughts to the devil"
slug: "ch-352"
novel: "Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100"
number: 352
views: 0
likes: 0
wordCount: 1244
createdAt: "2026-04-13"
---

Silence.

Crushing, suffocating silence.

Not a whisper. Not a breath.

No one moved.

No one could.

Palace Master Hugh—one of the greatest experts in the Lower Domain, an Expert Rank powerhouse—was gone.

Wiped away with a snap of the fingers.

It wasn't just power they had witnessed.

It was something beyond.

Mind-boggling. Terrifying. Unreal.

And Mark?

He just dusted his hands, glanced around the room, and smiled.

Like it was nothing.

Mark's head tilted slightly as his gaze shifted toward the entrance of the shattered hall.

"You've been hiding long enough," he said calmly, voice echoing like a whisper carried by wind. "You can come out now."

The moment the words left his lips, footsteps echoed in the ruined silence.

A middle-aged man stepped into view—dark red hair swept back, his robes pristine despite the chaos around him. He walked with confidence, unhurried.

It was none other than Envoy Lucas.

Max's eyes narrowed instantly, his expression turning pitch-black.

Him.

Lucas offered a faint, mocking smile as he entered the center of the hall. "I have a suggestion," he said casually, as though he hadn't just betrayed everything and everyone.

Mark arched a brow, intrigued. "Oh? And what kind of suggestion are we talking about?"

Lucas's smile deepened. It was twisted. Sinister.

"You mentioned earlier that the body you're using—the 'meat suit'—is slowly dying from the inside due to your infernal energy."

Mark nodded lightly. "I did. So?"

Lucas turned his head, slowly, deliberately—eyes settling on Max. Then back to Mark.

"You need a vessel," he said. "A body attuned to both mana and infernal energy."

He let the silence sit for a second longer before adding—

"Isn't there someone in this very hall who possesses just that kind of body?"

The words dropped like poison into still water.

Every person present froze.

They weren't fools. They understood exactly what Lucas was implying.

But no one had expected him to say it out loud.

Not this.

"Lucas! What the hell are you saying?!" King Magnar thundered, appearing beside Max like a flash of lightning, his voice shaking the already broken walls.

"Have you lost your damn mind?!"

But Lucas only sneered.

"Humph. If I can't get my hands on the secrets inside Max's body… then no one will."

Max's fists trembled.

The shame. The rage. The helplessness.

He wanted to kill Lucas right there. Right now. Rip him apart with his bare hands.

But he couldn't.

He was too weak.

An Expert Rank? Max wasn't even close. Right now, he was nothing but an ant. A bystander in his own tragedy.

And then—

A voice.

'Come... pick me up. I shall give you the power to kill.'

It whispered in his mind. Cold, ancient, and hungry.

Max's eyes widened slightly, trying to trace its source, but before he could—

"Kid?" Blob's voice broke in, sharp and concerned. "What's happening to you? Your soul… it's fluctuating hard. Really hard."

Max blinked.

"I—I don't know," he said aloud in his mind. "Everything feels fine…"

"Hmm," Blob muttered. "Maybe it's just all this tension. But don't worry. If he tries to enter your body, I'll fight him from the inside. I'll do what I can."

Max nodded faintly.

But his gaze had already drifted.

To the sword lying on the ground.

That blood-red blade.

Still.

Waiting.

'Come... pick me up. I shall give you the power to kill.'

The voice again.

He grit his teeth. There was greed in his eyes—restrained, but there. A need. A thirst.

---

"You want me to take over Max?" Mark mused aloud, eyes narrowing at the Max. "Now that's… not a bad idea."

Then he turned, gaze flicking to Lucas, a sneer spreading across his face.

"But you don't think I already thought of that, do you?"

Lucas lowered his head, the confidence from earlier draining fast. He said nothing.

Mark chuckled, amused, before turning back to Max.

"What do you say, Max? Ready to hand over that body of yours?"

Max didn't hesitate.

"No."

Mark's smile didn't fade.

"What if I insist?"

Max's voice turned ice cold. "Still no."

Mark's grin widened as he raised his fingers.

Snap!

For an instant, Max thought it was over.

Like Palace Master Hugh—turned to dust in an instant—he thought he was next.

But instead—

Alice appeared in front of him.

Eyes wide. Confused. Afraid.

"If you don't give me your body," Mark said cheerfully, "I'm going to kill her."

Max's blood boiled.

His fists clenched so tight that blood dripped between his fingers.

But before he could move—

Mark chuckled.

"Nah, I'm just messing with you." He shook his head. "I'm not that much of a douche. I wouldn't kill a little girl over this."

Max blinked, stunned by the sudden shift.

"Or am I?"

But then—

Snap.

Mark's fingers moved again.

And Alice's body—

disintegrated.

Turned to dust.

No sound. No scream. Just—

Gone.

The ashes floated slowly to the ground, like the last remnants of a burned photograph.

Max's eyes widened.

His breath caught in his throat.

His lips parted, but no words came out.

He just stared at the spot where she had stood—where she had smiled, cried, laughed—

And now…

She was dust.

Falling.

Like snow.

Max couldn't believe his eyes.

He stood frozen, his mind struggling to catch up with reality.

One moment, Alice had been there—confused, alive, real. The next… nothing. Just a drifting cloud of dust where her body had once stood.

Gone.

Wiped away as though she'd never existed.

His breath caught. His chest tightened.

He couldn't process it.

What just happened...?

His knees weakened, but he didn't fall. His fists trembled, but he didn't lower them. His vision blurred, but not from tears—his eyes were dry, burning.

His soul, however, screamed.

And then—he turned.

Slowly.

Stiffly.

His gaze locked onto Mark.

The man… the thing responsible.

Mark was smiling. Not with mockery. Not with cruelty.

But with something worse.

Gentleness.

As if he hadn't just committed a horrifying act, as if he had done Max a favor.

"You…" Max breathed. It was barely audible. More thought than sound.

But his rage was building. Uncontainable.

"YOU…"

His voice cracked into a growl.

And that's when it happened.

Something inside him snapped.

Like a sealed gate flung wide open, or a chain shattered from within.

Suddenly—

BOOM.

A wave of energy burst from Max's body.

Dark. Thick. Suffocating.

Black infernal energy.

It poured from him in violent streams, rising like smoke from a wildfire. It coiled and churned, twisting through the air like a living shadow.

The entire hall trembled.

Cracks split the floor beneath his feet. The walls groaned under the pressure of the energy swirling around him.

It wasn't just leaking out—it was erupting.

As if a tide that had long been dammed had finally broken free, and now the flood was unstoppable.

The black energy wrapped around him like a storm given form, rising high above his head and sinking deep into the floor like roots anchoring a dark god.

Mark's smile faded.

Just slightly.

His eyes narrowed, curiosity flickering within.

Max's body trembled, but not with fear. His rage had become something else now—alive.

His pupils dilated. His veins darkened beneath his skin. Infernal tattoos shimmered across his right arm, crawling upward, branching across his neck and face, pulsing in sync with his fury.

There were no words in his mouth now.

Only intent.

Kill.

And then the sword on the ground reacted.