---
title: "Chapter 441 A Sneak Attack"
slug: "ch-441"
novel: "Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100"
number: 441
views: 0
likes: 0
wordCount: 1243
createdAt: "2026-04-13"
---

441: A Sneak Attack

441: A Sneak Attack

Max turned slowly, his eyes sharp and unwavering, the blade of the black sword still humming faintly with power at his side.

His gaze swept across the crowd of demons, settling on the one who stood at their center—Craig, the hulking First Seat, whose presence had always carried the weight of intimidation.

But now, in this moment, even Craig’s aura felt like a flickering candle against a storm.

Max’s voice rang out, calm but cutting, “Are there any others who wish to kill me right now?”

The words echoed through the arena like a blade sliding from its sheath.

Then—silence.

A silence so deep and absolute it pressed down on every chest like a boulder.

No one moved.

No one breathed.

The entire tenth floor had seen it—Korbin, Fifth Seat of the Demon Race, someone revered as untouchable among most Seeker Rank powerhouses, had been effortlessly cut down by Max.

Not with overwhelming brute force, not with flashy divine techniques—but with calm, composed, refined mastery.

As if swatting away a fly.

The demons had come prepared to suppress Max.

Some had even fantasized about killing him themselves, believing him to be an arrogant human who didn’t know his place.

But now, none of them could meet his gaze.

The sheer pressure that had rolled off his sword just moments ago still lingered in the air, a warning etched into space itself.

What they had witnessed wasn’t just a victory.

It was a statement.

A monster like him… no one wanted to challenge that.

Not even those burning with hatred.

Even the demons who had long hungered for the extermination of humanity—who had justified killing Max simply because of his race—remained silent.

Their bloodlust was gone.

Swallowed by the image of a lone figure standing tall in the arena, unbothered, unstained, untouched.

Their hatred had met something far stronger than fear.

It had met despair.

But not everyone feared him.

“I will fight you.”

The words cut through the silence like a cold dagger.

Every head turned, eyes widening, as Craig, the First Seat of the Demon Race, stepped forward—his massive frame moving slowly, purposefully, like a predator that had finally chosen to strike.

Despite everything that had just happened, despite witnessing the terrifying pressure from Max’s sword and the clean execution of Korbin, Craig still wanted to fight.

No, not just fight.

Kill.

He landed in the arena with a thunderous thud, standing directly across from Max, his towering presence radiating killing intent so potent it made the surrounding air feel heavy.

“I’ve been meaning to use my Authority to kill you,” Craig said darkly, his voice like gravel soaked in venom.

“But it seems you’ve made things easier for me.” His mouth twisted into a cruel grin.

Max raised an eyebrow, calm and composed as always.

“Yeah, right—” he began casually, but his words cut short.

Whoosh!

Craig’s figure vanished before Max could finish his sentence.

Max’s instincts screamed.

He spun—just in time to see Craig materialize behind him, his massive black sword already mid-swing, aimed directly at Max’s back with explosive power.

CLANG!

Max moved instantly, turning with supernatural precision, his right hand shooting out to catch the sword bare-handed, powered by the full might of his 300 Draconic Essences.

Katcha!

He caught the massive sword with his right hand.

The impact released a violent shockwave that blasted through the arena like a sonic boom, sending cracks webbing across the ground beneath them and rippling through the air.

Sparks exploded as flesh met steel.

Craig’s grin widened.

“Heh… you fell for it.” he sneered viciously.

And before Max could even respond, a sudden sharp pulse erupted from beneath Craig’s palm—a hidden treasure, an ancient demonic relic that had been dormant until now, buried in the hilt of his sword and activated with a drop of Craig’s blood at the exact moment of impact.

From within the weapon’s core, a thin, black needle-like spike made from condensed spatial venom—forbidden demonic alchemy—shot out, aiming directly for Max’s chest with a speed that tore the sound barrier in half.

This was not a technique.

It was an assassination.

A sneak attack built into the very weapon Craig had wielded, triggered in the moment of contact—where not even the Tower’s defensive laws could respond in time.

It was a trick designed to kill even those far above his level if caught off guard.

The needle tore through the air and pierced Max’s chest, embedding itself just below his heart with a sickening, soundless thrust.

For a brief moment, the arena froze.

Max didn’t cry out.

He didn’t fall.

He didn’t even flinch.

But his eyes narrowed the slightest bit, and his body instinctively stepped back half a pace.

Craig, meanwhile, had already retreated, leaping away with practiced speed, his massive sword once again resting across his back, the hilt still faintly glowing from the activation of the hidden treasure.

And then—he laughed.

“Hahaha!

You’re done for!” Craig’s voice echoed triumphantly through the silent arena.

“No matter how strong you are, no matter how resilient your body is… once you’re poisoned with the Voidshade Venom, your fate is sealed.

It doesn’t matter what race you belong to.

It doesn’t matter if you’re a beast or a god.

In the history of this poison, no one has survived.

And you, Max?” He sneered, his eyes blazing with dark joy.

“You are no exception.”

Max stood there in silence.

His body slightly hunched.

His hand resting against the spot where the needle had struck.

And for the first few seconds, he did feel something.

‘A poison… huh?’ Max thought as a wave of overwhelming weakness surged through his veins.

It was like ice and fire flooding his limbs at the same time—paralyzing and burning.

His muscles tightened.

His vision blurred for a heartbeat.

‘I should’ve been more careful,’ he admitted inwardly, his breath shallow for a moment.

But he didn’t regret it.

Not for a second.

Because deep down, Max knew something others didn’t.

‘Poisons… don’t work on me.’

Just as the venom surged, attempting to dig deeper into his cells—his 300 Draconic Essences stirred awake.

A low rumble echoed from within his body like an ancient beast being disturbed.

Golden and black lights coiled through his bloodstream, swirling violently as if enraged.

Then—like a storm of divine wrath—his Draconic Essences devoured the poison.

The Voidshade Venom, said to be incurable, to consume the soul and destroy the body within moments, was obliterated—torn apart, purified, and turned to nothingness.

It didn’t just stop spreading.

It was eradicated, burned away in the furnace of Max’s inner power.

And with it, Max felt strength flood back into his limbs.

His lungs filled deeply.

His vision cleared.

His heart steadied.

Back when Max had first arrived at the headquarters of the Black Lotus Guild, hidden deep within the forgotten corners of the Outer Circle, he remembered a particular conversation with Klaus that lingered in his memory ever since.

Klaus had stood beside an ancient fountain, arms folded, his voice low and calm as he explained one of the Guild’s deepest secrets—that all true members of the Black Lotus Guild carried within their blood a unique resilience, a trait so deeply ingrained into their lineage that it allowed them to survive poisons that would render even divine beasts helpless.

CREATORS’ THOUGHTS

ShinGotLost

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