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| title | slug | novel | number | views | likes | wordCount | createdAt |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Chapter 643: Max’s choice | ch-649 | Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 | 649 | 0 | 0 | 1345 | 2026-04-15 |
Max didn’t hesitate. "When the time comes, I want you to help me, shield me, protect me with everything the Great Ruler Empire has," he said, his tone unwavering, but beneath the surface, it carried the heaviness of someone who knew exactly what kind of storm was coming.
"I don’t care how you do it. I don’t care if your force can do it. You have the influence. You have the resources. Use them." His words weren’t a request—they were a demand forged from the uncertainty of his path, a plea wrapped in resolve.
The room fell into silence for a few seconds. Lyra studied him, her face still, but her eyes reflecting the shift in mood. Then she slowly nodded, her expression sharpening with a new edge. "Protection from whom?" she asked, her voice lower now, all pretense stripped away.
Max looked at her, his jaw firm. "From the Black Tortoise Nation." He didn’t stop there. He explained everything—how he had entered the Middle Domain disguised as a servant to Elias, one of the direct heirs of the Black Tortoise Nation. How that ruse had already ended. How he had chosen to go off on his own. It wasn’t even defiance; it was simply the only path forward for him. But to the Four God Nation, his departure could easily be seen as betrayal.
Lyra closed her eyes, her brows furrowing slightly. She had expected Max to reach the Middle Domain one day—his potential made that inevitable. But she hadn’t thought he would arrive carrying such a volatile risk. The Four God Nation was not a power to be trifled with, especially when it came to pride and loyalty.
After a long breath, Lyra opened her eyes and extended her hand across the small table between them. "I will accept your deal," she said clearly. "I—or the Great Ruler Empire—will protect you from the Black Tortoise Nation to the best of our power. In return, you will fight under our banner in the Divine Mandate Grand Tournament and help us reach the top ten."
Max looked down at her hand for a moment. His instincts urged caution. He wanted to trust her, but this world had taught him better. "Sorry," he said finally, not unkindly, "but I couldn’t trust your words completely. A soul contract would be much more beneficial here."
Lyra’s eyes narrowed, the amusement fading from her face as Max’s words sank in. "Does that mean you’re that confident in entering the top ten in the tournament?" she asked, her voice quiet, laced with something between disbelief and intrigue.
A soul contract wasn’t a small matter. It was binding, absolute, and merciless. If either of them failed to uphold their end of the deal, their soul would be crushed—obliterated beyond salvation. That wasn’t a price someone gambled with. It was a price only those with unwavering certainty dared to stake.
She wasn’t doubting Max’s abilities—if she had, she wouldn’t have gone to the lengths she already had to support him. It wasn’t about talent. It wasn’t about potential. She had seen enough of that in him to believe. What shook her was his timing.
The next Divine Mandate Grand Tournament was already on the horizon, just two years away. Not enough time for Max to slowly grow, to cautiously adapt to the ways of the Middle Domain.
And here he was, calmly offering to seal a soul contract on the basis that he could shatter expectations, leap past geniuses nurtured in this land since birth, and place himself among the ten strongest of the Middle Domain’s younger generation.
It wasn’t arrogance. That much Lyra could tell. His eyes were clear, steady—not boastful, but sure. Max believed in himself the same way one believes in the ground beneath their feet. And something about that made her pulse quicken.
He was no ordinary genius. He was a storm, quietly gathering force.
Lyra still felt the need to give him a final warning, her voice quiet but firm. "The next Divine Mandate Grand Tournament will be held in two years. That’s the time you have. Just two years to push your strength to the very peak of the Legend Rank. Do you think you can do that? Do you truly believe you can rival the strongest geniuses of the Middle Domain with just two years in your hand?"
Her words weren’t spoken to discourage him but to remind him—this was the harsh reality of the Middle Domain, a world where time and talent often weren’t enough without overwhelming effort and resources.
"Only two years?" Max’s brows furrowed slightly as her words sank in. He wouldn’t lie to himself—not even he could pretend that was a generous stretch of time. For someone like him, even with his cheat-like abilities and unnatural progression speed, two years was still too short.
And yet, a storm of calculations had already begun brewing in his mind. He wasn’t concerned about concepts or comprehension of techniques. Those were easy. With the Dimension of Time at his disposal, what others took decades to understand, he could grasp in mere days. Concepts, laws, skills—they would come to him.
But his base strength? That was the problem.
That wasn’t something the Dimension of Time could fix. To fight against the titans of the Middle Domain, he needed to stand like one. He was still in the Expert Rank now. Ahead of most in the Lower Domain, but laughably weak here. He still had to fully break into Master Rank, rise through it, reach the Champion Rank, and only then could he touch the threshold of Legend Rank.
Max wasn’t delusional—he knew the top geniuses of the Middle Domain didn’t just stop at the surface of the Legend Rank. They had already enter into deeper realms, refining their laws, perfecting their inheritances, sharpening their divine techniques.
For him to contend with them, he would need to be at least mid-Champion Rank, if not higher—and he had to do all of that in two short years.
It sounded absurd. Ridiculous. Impossible even.
But Max wasn’t the type to shy away from a challenge, no matter how daunting it looked. He had always walked a path filled with obstacles, and this was just another mountain to climb.
More than that, the Divine Mandate Grand Tournament felt like the perfect stage for him to rise—not just in power, but in recognition. If he wanted the entire Middle Domain to know his name, if he wanted his sister to hear that name and realize he had arrived, then this was the only way.
He didn’t believe for a second that his sister wouldn’t hear of him if he conquered the tournament. She would know. She had to know.
"I’ll do it," Max said, his voice steady and without an ounce of hesitation.
Lyra’s eyes narrowed slightly, reading his expression carefully. "Are you sure?" she asked, her tone softer but edged with gravity. This wasn’t a decision one could take lightly.
Max gave a single nod, his eyes glowing with fierce determination. There was no trace of doubt in them. This wasn’t about blind confidence—it was resolve, the kind that couldn’t be shaken once made.
Lyra closed her eyes for a brief moment, then opened them with a sigh and a small smile that seemed half resignation and half admiration. "Alright then... I’ll join you in your madness," she murmured, reaching into her storage ring.
A moment later, she pulled out a glowing scroll etched in gold—the soul contract. They sat at the table, and together they laid out the terms: Max would do everything in his power to help the Great Ruler Empire enter the top ten of the Divine Mandate Grand Tournament. In return, Lyra and her empire would provide him protection—absolute and unwavering—against the Black Tortoise Nation, no matter the cost. When the final words were agreed upon, they signed.
The scroll glowed for a second, then dissolved into motes of light that sank into their chests.
The pact was made.
There was no turning back now.