Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100-Chapter 368: One Punch to All

Mars didn't respond to him directly. Instead, he turned back to the elder.

"I'm reporting this to my father. He'll know what to do."

He looked back at the spiky-haired man, his tone growing firm.

"And we're not abandoning him. Or the other humans in that caravan."

"They're still our people," Mars said. "Even if they've been forgotten, we don't forget."

The arrogant man scoffed but said nothing.

The old man nodded slowly, though his eyes held concern. "We'll report it, yes. But the caravan's heading toward Elven territory. That's a problem."

---

Max sat quietly in the back of the cart, his body still but his senses razor-sharp. His golden-yellow soul hummed faintly, scanning the landscape in every direction, like an unseen radar pulsing outward.

And then he felt it.

Faint fluctuations. Movement—not demonic.

His eyes narrowed.

"Humans?" he murmured, the corners of his lips lifting slightly. "Finally."

A wave of relief washed over him. If there were human scouts in the area, then maybe—just maybe—he wouldn't have to keep protecting these villagers on his own. Maybe someone else could take them in.

But just as the thought passed through his mind—

Alarm.

Max's Three-Dimensional Body flared with warning, a powerful jolt shooting through his instincts. Without thinking, he moved.

SWISH!

A sharp gust of air tore past his cheek as an arrow whistled through the air and struck the side of the cart.

But Max's hand snapped forward, catching it cleanly before it could embed itself in the wood.

He blinked.

It hadn't been aimed at him. Even if he hadn't took action, the arrow would probably miss him and would hit the side wall of the cart.

Frowning, he inspected the arrow. Tied to the shaft was a piece of white cloth, neatly folded and marked with dark ink. He unraveled it carefully and read the message written in elegant, flowing script:

"Human, you should leave this place."

Max's brows furrowed. He glanced at the arrow again, analyzing its design. Slender, sleek, and perfectly balanced. Not demonic craftsmanship.

And from what he'd seen of the nearby demons, none of them carried bows.

Humans wouldn't address him and the villagers like 'humans.'

That left only one possibility.

"Elves," he muttered under his breath.

Who else would fire a warning shot that deliberately missed?

He stepped out of the cart, his gaze lifting toward the ridgeline where the arrow had likely come from.

But the slope was empty—no sign of elves. Not even a shimmer of movement.

His attention shifted.

High up on the opposite slope, shadows moved.

Demons.

Dozens of them, lined up like hunters preparing for a feast, their eyes trained on Max with eager, cruel smiles.

One stepped forward.

He was massive—nearly eight feet tall—with skin the color of scorched iron and thick, sinewy muscles coiling beneath his armor. His eyes glowed like molten steel.

"Kid, you finally showed yourself," the demon rumbled, his voice like gravel grinding underfoot. "We've been watching. Waiting."

He cracked his knuckles. "A weakling like you—Level 1 of Adept Rank—thought you could just stroll through our territory?"

He sneered. "You're in over your head."

Max's lips curved into a slow, cold smile.

"Is that so?" he replied, stretching his arms behind his back and rolling his neck until it popped.

Then—

BOOM.

The ground beneath him shattered as he activated his 300 Draconic Essences. Dust shot up in a plume behind him as he launched forward like a missile, his feet carving craters into the earth.

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The demons' sneers faded, replaced by flickers of alarm.

The tall demon leapt down to meet him mid-air, his massive fist pulled back.

'Of all the things he could do… he's using brute force? Against me?' the demon scoffed inwardly. 'How naive.'

They collided.

For a second, everything went still.

And then—

BANG!

A violent shockwave blasted outward.

The demon's body didn't just break—it exploded.

Blood sprayed like a crimson mist. Bones were reduced to mush, crushed under the force of Max's momentum.

Under the raw power of 300 Draconic Essences.

And Max didn't stop.

His figure tore through the remains, landing with thunderous impact right in the middle of the demon horde, the earth cracking beneath his boots.

Dozens of demons stepped back instinctively.

Max stood there, dust swirling around him, his body crackling with draconic power, eyes glowing like molten gold.

He lifted his head slowly.

"Who's next?"

Max's voice echoed like thunder across the rocky pass.

A low, dangerous growl—calm, but full of promise.

As the words left his lips, a burst of Fire Aura surged from his body. It wasn't just a flicker or glow—it was a blazing, suffocating torrent of heat, igniting the air around him.

The level 3 Fire Aura roared to life, and in the blink of an eye, the blood and flesh that had splattered over him from the demon's obliterated body evaporated into ash—leaving Max untouched, clean, and burning with raw power.

Dust swirled at his feet, stirred by the heat. His gaze swept over the crowd of stunned demons, unblinking.

---

On the nearby slope, hidden among dense trees and camouflaged cloaks, the group of humans stared wide-eyed, stunned into silence.

It was the old man who spoke first, exhaling sharply. "By the heavens… he killed a Level 10 Adept with his bare hands."

"And he's only Level 1 himself," another muttered, still staring at the cratered ground and the blood vapor in the air. "He didn't even use a weapon—just brute force."

A third added, voice hushed in awe, "Fighting a demon physically is suicide. Their bodies are built for battle. But he crushed that one like it was a twig."

Mars didn't speak immediately. His eyes remained fixed on Max, his golden armor catching flickers of the fading firelight below.

Then, slowly, he smiled.

"It seems we… underestimated him," he said quietly.

Only the arrogant young man among them didn't share the sentiment. His brows were furrowed, his arms crossed tightly.

"He killed a demon," he said coldly. "That's not something we can just overlook. The peace… is shattered now. That was the first stone thrown."

Mars didn't respond—his eyes hadn't left Max.

---

Across the slope, within the shade of another high ridge, the elves watched too.

Their group was mostly composed of tall, lithe figures with flowing cloaks and eyes that shimmered like moonlight. Nearly all of them were women, their features elegant and ethereal—cold, calculating, and fierce.

One of them lowered her longbow, her silver hair swaying in the wind. "He caught the warning arrow."

Another, younger elf whispered, "His strength.... It's beyond any human I have seen in raw strength wise."

"Not just strength," an older elf corrected, her tone firm. "He looked so calm in the midst of the demons. It reminded me of someone."

Everyone understood whom she meant by saying that.

The leader of the scout among them, a woman with emerald eyes and a regal bearing, narrowed her gaze.

"That boy… he's dangerous," she murmured.

"Should we intervene?" one of the scouts asked.

"No," the leader replied. "Not yet. Let the demons decide how foolish they want to be."

Her gaze didn't waver. "If he survives, perhaps we'll speak."