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446 lines
8.2 KiB
Markdown
446 lines
8.2 KiB
Markdown
---
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title: "Chapter 311: A Song..."
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slug: "ch-311"
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novel: "Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100"
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number: 311
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views: 0
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likes: 0
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wordCount: 1349
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createdAt: "2026-04-13"
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---
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Old Man Grey looked up—
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And his face twisted.
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His voice snapped through the group's minds like a whip:
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"Shit. The stars are gone. We've lost our heading. If we move now, we'll get lost in this hell."
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Panic simmered just under the surface.
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Geniuses who had walked into this place with swagger now looked like cornered prey.
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One of them asked, voice desperate:
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"Should we fly up to get a sense of direction?"
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Someone else snapped back:
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"Are you insane? Flying is banned! Even if it weren't, flying up is asking to die!"
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"Then what do we do?"
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"We can't stay here—can't walk either—"
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"We'll die either way—"
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Their composure cracked.
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The fog didn't just choke their vision.
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It began to choke their courage.
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Just as they spiraled toward panic—
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It came.
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Soft.
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Faint.
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Sweet.
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Wrong.
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A fragrance drifted in first—
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Something floral, nostalgic, beautiful, like the scent of a lover from a time that never existed.
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And then—
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A song.
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A woman's voice.
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Melodic.
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Delicate.
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Haunting.
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"Little friends…"
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"Little friends…"
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"I can help you… but you play with me…"
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....
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---
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No one said a word.
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But everyone felt it.
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Their bodies went rigid.
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Their skin erupted in goosebumps.
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Some clenched their weapons.
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Others tried not to breathe.
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Because that voice—
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it didn't sound like it came from anywhere specific.
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It was inside the fog,
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inside their minds,
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inside their hearts.
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And worse—
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It carried emotion.
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Not seduction.
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Not joy.
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But a sorrow so ancient, so deep, that it pulled at the soul.
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Like the grief of a mother holding her dead child.
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Like a ghost who still wept at the place she died.
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It whispered:
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"Don't leave."
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"Don't run."
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"Stay with me."
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And the longer they listened—
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The more the idea didn't sound that bad.
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Even Max felt a pull.
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A slow, gnawing ache in the heart, a desire to just… lay down.
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To forget the weight.
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Forget the danger.
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Forget everything.
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Just to rest.
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But Max bit his lips to come back to his senses.
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…..
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"Do not listen to that singing!"
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Old Man Grey's voice tore through the fog like a thunderclap, raw, furious, and urgent.
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There was no time for private transmissions now—
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He shouted.
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"Seal your ears with vital essence—NOW!"
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At once, his body exploded with a surge of power.
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Vital essence burst outward, forming a shimmering, protective barrier that wrapped around him like a second skin.
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It didn't just guard him from the fog.
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It cut off all sound.
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The moment it activated—
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The singing vanished from his ears.
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And as the fog was shoved back slightly by the blast of energy,
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Max saw—
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A nightmare.
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The youth standing directly beside him—
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Someone Max remembered speaking just a few hours ago—
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Was now unrecognizable.
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His shoulders hung low, his arms limp, his eyes—a glassy, sickly green, glazed over like those of a corpse three days too old.
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But he was still moving.
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Slowly.
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Purposefully.
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Brutally.
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The youth began scratching himself.
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First, it was his arms.
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Fingernails dug into skin, tearing through flesh like paper.
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Blood flowed.
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Then his chest—
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He clawed deeper, ripping muscle, scraping bone.
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There was no scream, no flinch—
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Only that same, empty gaze, as if his soul had been sucked into the fog and something else was puppeteering the body.
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Then—
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He thrust both hands into his stomach.
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Splrch.
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Fingers dived in, pulling out intestines like ribbons. One hand reached up, toward his ribs, and began tearing them open.
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Then, the final horror.
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His eyes.
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Without hesitation—
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He pressed his thumbs into his own eye sockets, digging with sickening crunches, until he ripped them out.
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They dangled from tendons for a moment before sliding down his cheeks like weeping pearls of blood.
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Max didn't blink.
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Didn't flinch.
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But his insides turned cold.
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He instantly understood—
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'His Soul Palace has fallen.'
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That man wasn't "mad."
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He wasn't "possessed."
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He was emptied out.
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Something had invaded his soul, cut the strings that tied mind to flesh, and was now using his body like a toy.
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A dying, bleeding, twitching marionette.
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"Max, front left! Break out there!"
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Blob's voice hit like thunder—fast, sharp, full of urgency.
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"I know what we've met! This is no ordinary trap. It's a soul-reaping illusion field formed by an ancient cursed Bone Frame! If you stay—you'll be shredded from the inside out!"
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Max didn't hesitate.
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Not for a second.
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In the blink of an eye, his body exploded with aura.
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Not a soft rise—
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An eruption.
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Fusion State Aura — 50%.
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No holding back.
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No pacing.
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His body became a whirlpool of raw power, every nerve screaming with intensity.
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58 Draconic Essences ignited all at once—
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Flooding his limbs, his mind, his soul, surging through his meridians like molten fire.
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His muscles swelled.
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Bones hardened.
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Eyes blazed with pitch-black lightning.
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He pulled the black sword from his back, its surface already glowing with black flames.
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Then—
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"Point Blink."
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The second move of the Voidborne Edge: Sevenfold Sword Technique.
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A blink forward.
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No buildup.
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No warning.
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Just pure, brutal velocity—
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His body becoming a black meteor, compressed into a streak of shadow.
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He slammed into the fog on the front-left—
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And it was like hitting a glass wall hidden inside water.
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The air shrieked.
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Space rippled.
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Crack.
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Then—
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BOOOOM.
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The fog tore open.
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Like a ripped veil.
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Like shredded silk soaked in death.
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The illusion shattered.
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The soul-charming field screamed in protest, a haunting echo rushing outward.
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Max shot forward—crossing 10,000 feet in an instant.
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No resistance.
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No hesitation.
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He didn't look back.
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He kept moving, letting the rush of his aura devour the space ahead, cutting a path of survival through death.
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From the rear, Old Man Grey's eyes widened—then glinted with recognition.
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"RUN AWAY TOGETHER!" he bellowed, voice thunderous.
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"THAT BOY FOUND A WAY OUT! FOLLOW HIM!"
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His crescent sickle flared to life.
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The old man moved—
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Vital essence surging as he raced through the rip in the fog Max had created.
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The remaining geniuses didn't need to be told twice.
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Those who had survived the siren song, those who still had enough clarity of mind, rushed after Max like men chasing the edge of a cliff before the world collapsed.
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Amara followed, her eyes icy and focused.
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Others scrambled in panic, hands glowing, weapons drawn.
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Some stumbled.
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Some ran blindly.
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But all followed the path Max had carved out—
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The only path not leading to death.
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Behind them, the fog howled.
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The singing didn't stop—
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But it warped.
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Twisted.
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Now it was no longer sweet, no longer sorrowful.
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Now it was hungry.
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"Why run, little friends…"
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"We were having so much fun…"
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The voice cracked, as if grating against stone.
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Like bones being ground underfoot.
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But—
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Max didn't stop.
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Not for the screams.
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Not for the sound of bones cracking behind him.
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Not even for the deadly fog snapping at his heels like the jaws of a starving beast.
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He kept moving.
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Every single movement skills he had—
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Dash, Super Dash, Phantom Dash, One Step Dash, Blink Dash—
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Each one erupted in layered bursts.
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Lightning Steps wrapped around his legs, sparking with flickers of purple-white light, as if thunder itself guided his every stride.
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He wasn't just fast.
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He was untouchable.
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"Now—right side! 300 feet! Strike with everything you have!"
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Blob's voice didn't waver.
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Urgent. Calculated.
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Max didn't question.
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Didn't slow.
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He rotated his body mid-air like a shadow spun by lightning, poured Fusion State Aura into his blade again, and launched his technique:
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"Point Blink."
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CRACK—BOOOOM.
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A sound like a cosmic eggshell breaking echoed through the dark.
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Something unseen—some invisible wall of nightmare and illusion—
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Shattered beneath the force of his sword.
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Max tore through the breach like a comet, body wrapped in streaks of lightning and black aura, and burst out the other side.
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The fog instantly thinned.
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From black to gray.
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From choking to breathable.
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Above—
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Stars.
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Dim, but visible.
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And in this place, that meant everything.
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Max skidded to a halt 10 miles out, his feet cracking stone, his lungs burning.
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But he didn't relax.
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Not fully.
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Not yet. |