Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Chapter 1215  Lost in Time

But Max was not like the others. He had always walked paths that were deemed impossible. His heart was steady. His will was absolute.

The aura around him began to shift. A faint, ethereal light rose from his skin—silver and white, like the glow of countless stars collapsing and reforming. His heartbeat slowed, then steadied into a strange, rhythmic pulse that echoed in harmony with the world around him.

Old Man First observed quietly, his expression tense. The air was beginning to twist. The temperature dropped, and the golden lights of the River of Continuum trembled as cracks of shadow began to appear in the distance. He could feel it—the faint stirring of the Wraith's awareness.

"Steady," Old Man First murmured softly, his fingers moving in subtle patterns. Golden sigils appeared in the air, forming rings of light that revolved around him. They were not meant to attack but to defend—to shield Max from the retribution of the world itself.

Inside the barrier, Max's consciousness was diving deeper. He could see the stream of time within himself—a translucent river flowing through his body, connecting every particle of his being. It shimmered faintly with silver light, perfectly balanced yet endlessly fragile.

He reached toward it slowly with his will, not his hands. The moment his intent touched the current, pain surged through him. His body convulsed slightly, the flow resisting fiercely as though aware of what he was trying to do. It was not meant to be tampered with.

He gritted his teeth, focusing harder. "Split," he whispered under his breath.

The light in his body intensified. The flow of time trembled violently, fracturing into strands of light that stretched through his veins and into the air around him. The pressure was immense—it felt as though the universe itself was pushing back, trying to crush him into dust.

Old Man First's expression hardened. He could feel the Wraith of the World gathering. Far beyond the stars, deep in the void, something ancient and colossal stirred. The temperature dropped sharply as the space around them began to ripple.

A colossal wave of dark energy erupted from the horizon, its shape formless but its intent clear. It was coming. The Wraith had awakened.

"Hold on," Old Man First said in a low voice. With one motion of his hand, countless symbols burst to life around him, forming layers of golden shields that stacked themselves over Max like walls of divine light.

The impact came a moment later—soundless yet cataclysmic. The Wraith's power crashed against Old Man First's barrier, shaking the entire realm.

Even the River of Continuum roared in protest. The flow of time itself distorted, stretching and twisting in unnatural ways. The light of the stars flickered as the fabric of existence struggled to stabilize.

Inside the golden shields, Max remained unmoving. His body trembled under the pressure, but his mind was clear. The stream of time within him was now half-split, its light flickering like a candle in the wind.

He could feel the duality now—the past and future co-existing within him. He could see them existing in equilibrium but as he tried to separate the flow of time from his body, the time seemed to also pull himself inside it too.

Old Man First's voice echoed faintly through the storm. "Steady your will, Max. You are dividing the impossible. You are separating eternity itself. Do not let your mind falter, or you will lose yourself between moments."

But he was a bit too late. Max was already lost in the flow of time.

The world around Max disappeared, dissolved into ripples of silver light. The stars, the river, even Old Man First—all disappeared. What replaced them was an endless corridor made of moments. Countless shimmering fragments floated in the air like droplets of glass, each one containing a scene, a feeling, a memory.

Max blinked, and before he could even grasp what was happening, his body flickered and disappeared into one of those fragments.

The next thing he knew, he was standing in a small courtyard beneath a night sky. The air was warm. He could hear laughter, faint and familiar. He turned, and his breath caught.

There—his mother, smiling as she called out to him. His big sister Freya was training in the garden, her laughter echoing through the still night. The younger version of himself ran across the yard, his face bright with innocence. It was a life that once was—a moment he had long buried beneath duty, pain, and endless battles.

He took a hesitant step forward. "Mother…" he whispered.

But when he reached for her, his hand passed through the image like mist. The scene shimmered, then scattered into light.

Another memory replaced it.

Now he stood in the ruins of the city where the demons first invaded. The air was thick with ash, and he saw himself standing amidst the chaos, eyes cold and heart hardened. The world was falling apart, and yet he fought—alone, relentless, unyielding.

Then another vision pulled him in.

He saw the day he awakened his class, the day that started everything for him. And then he saw the betrayal, the faces of those who doubted him, the moments of victory and of isolation.

Each one came in flashes, swirling faster and faster until the line between memory and reality vanished entirely.

He could hear the voices of his past blending together. Accusations. Praises. Laughter. Cries.

And through it all—silence. His own silence. The silence of a man who had forgotten what it meant to feel.

Max clenched his fists. "No… This isn't real."

The corridor of memories trembled as if responding to his will, but before he could break free, the current shifted again. This time it wasn't the past that pulled him—it was the future.

The world darkened, and a different scene emerged.

He saw a battlefield that stretched beyond sight. Mountains were crumbling, oceans evaporating into mist, and the skies were split by lightning and flame. In the middle of it stood himself—older, colder, a shadow wrapped in divine light and black fire. His eyes were like twin abysses, and every movement carried the weight of destruction.

All around him lay the corpses of gods and devils alike. Even the stars seemed to fall silent in his presence.

Then, beside him, he saw another figure—a woman. Her face was familiar, though blurred by light. She was crying, reaching out to him, but the future version of Max did not move. His gaze was empty. His aura devoured everything.

"What… is this?" Max whispered, his heart tightening.

The older version turned suddenly, as if hearing him. Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat, Max felt his chest tighten with unbearable pressure. The older version's lips parted, and a voice that carried through every moment of existence spoke:

"Protect them...."

The words echoed, rippling through the corridor. The light of the memories began to shatter, one after another, until the world broke into pieces.