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276 lines
6.5 KiB
Markdown
276 lines
6.5 KiB
Markdown
---
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title: "Chapter 306: Bored"
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slug: "ch-306"
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novel: "Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100"
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number: 306
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views: 0
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likes: 0
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wordCount: 1036
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createdAt: "2026-04-13"
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---
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To him, this trip wasn't about treasure.
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It wasn't about domains.
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Not even about survival.
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This was his golden chance to marry into power.
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If he could win Amara's favor—
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even a little—
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Then everything else?
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Every lucky chance, every secret, every hidden ruin?
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All of it was garbage by comparison.
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He just needed the right moment.
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And if Old Man Grey thought some "infernal being" could scare him out of it?
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He was sadly mistaken.
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Max gave the red-haired genius a long, cold glance.
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'Did this guy… only come here for Amara?'
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The thought itself was ridiculous.
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This wasn't a banquet or a martial arts exhibition.
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This was the Mourning Depths.
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Infernal Beings were the baseline danger—the bare minimum threat you were expected to face.
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And this guy didn't even know that?
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'He's already doomed.'
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Max didn't say it out loud.
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He didn't need to.
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The way the guy spoke, the arrogance in his tone, the delusional gleam in his eyes—
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It was clear.
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He wouldn't last long.
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Old Man Grey kept walking, but his pace slowed.
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His voice was gravelly, but sharp—cutting through the fog like a blade.
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"Around the Mourning Depths, there are many strange beings."
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He didn't sugarcoat it.
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"Infernal Beings. Creatures born from the thick infernal energy. Bizarre. Enigmatic. Unnatural."
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He glanced behind him at the group.
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"No one knows where they come from. No one understands their biology. They simply exist—bred by the rot of this cursed land."
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Then, his voice lowered, becoming darker.
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"In normal times, they're buried deep within. Dormant. Unmoving. We wouldn't fear them."
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He paused.
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"But during the eruptions… some of them get projected to the outer layers."
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"If you encounter one of those—"
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His next words were flat and terrifying.
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"—you run. Far. Fast. You run and pray it doesn't follow."
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A long silence followed.
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The young geniuses—the ones who had joined just to impress Amara—
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All stood silent.
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Some clenched their fists.
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Others looked at the ground.
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They were proud.
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But they weren't stupid.
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They understood now—no matter how great their backgrounds were,
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no matter how talented—
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Their flashy martial techniques and elemental combos would mean nothing here if they made the wrong move.
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One mistake. One wrong step. And they'd never walk out of the fog.
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Old Man Grey wasn't finished.
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His eyes scanned them again, his face hard.
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"Good. If there aren't any more questions…"
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He paused deliberately. No one spoke.
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"Then let's move. But before we begin—one more thing."
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His voice took on a colder edge.
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"Avoid fighting whenever possible. But if you're truly forced…"
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He raised a single finger.
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"Then suppress your strength."
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He turned his hand over, palm to the sky.
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"Use no more than thirty percent of your power. Not forty. Not fifty."
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"If you flare up your full aura—if you unleash a wave of mana or soul force—"
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He stopped walking.
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"You'll stir the depths. And the Mourning Depths… will respond."
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The tone he used made the temperature feel like it dropped several degrees.
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Everyone listened.
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Except one.
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The red-haired guy furrowed his brow, his mouth twitching with irritation.
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He looked like he was barely listening.
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A kid who didn't like being lectured.
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Old Man Grey's eyes narrowed.
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He fixed his gaze directly on him.
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"This isn't playtime for children."
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A sharp, piercing tone.
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"Hey. You. Can you hear me?"
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The red-haired genius looked up, face tight with annoyance.
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"I heard you," he replied shortly.
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A nod—perfunctory, dismissive.
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"I'm not a child."
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Old Man Grey didn't argue.
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He just stared for a moment longer—then turned around.
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"Let's go."
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His tone was final.
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No one else said a word.
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The squad moved forward into the thickening mist—step by step—toward the death-wrapped silence of the Mourning Depths.
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As one, the group moved forward.
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Ten people, one guide, and a path leading into the mouth of a world no one understood.
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The first 8,500 miles were known to be relatively safe—by the Mourning Depths' standards, at least.
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There were no ambushes.
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No betrayals.
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No genius slaughtering another under the pretense of an accident.
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Not this early.
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With Old Man Grey leading the way, even the few natural dangers that did appear were swiftly avoided.
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He never explained how he spotted them, but he did.
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And no one questioned his judgment.
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Of course, with so many people together, and the Divine Palace demanding a cut of any gains, the rewards were pitiful.
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Any lucky chance they encountered—be it herbs, bones, broken runes, or lost trinkets—was either split into insignificance, or claimed by the Divine Palace outright.
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So yes, they were safe…
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But it was the kind of safety that suffocated ambition.
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As the days passed, the world around them didn't change.
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It remained gray. Bleak. Lifeless.
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The mist had a weight to it, like it clung to their clothes and thoughts.
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The sky above was clouded in dark fog, but the stars—glimmering faintly—served as their only compass.
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They walked on ground littered with jagged, red stone, uneven and sharp.
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Max occasionally glanced down at the surface.
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There were no patterns. No formations. Just a scarred, broken land, as if something ancient had clawed through it.
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Sometimes, he spotted broken stone tablets half-buried in the dust.
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Old things. Cracked.
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Faint etchings of long-forgotten languages etched across their surface.
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But time had erased most of it.
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The runes were just fragments of a civilization that no longer remembered its own name.
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The first day or two?
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Everyone behaved.
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Quiet. Focused.
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But after six days, things began to unravel.
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The silence was too much.
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No infernal beings. No danger. No action.
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Nothing but walking.
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Endless walking in a dead land that refused to even acknowledge their presence.
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The group was made up of young geniuses, after all.
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They had grown up with conflict, power, challenge, and prestige.
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Here?
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They were just ten ants wandering through the fog.
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And ants get bored.
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Some started muttering under their breath.
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Some sharpened their weapons for the tenth time that morning.
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Some kicked rocks aimlessly, or stared at the gray sky, searching for meaning.
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A few had started to hope—desperately hope—that something would happen.𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮
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A beast.
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A battle.
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A lucky chance.
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Anything.
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Even danger, now, would be welcome. |