Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Chapter 1248  Curse of the Lost Continent

With that thought, Max stepped back into the Dimension of Time and sank into silence once more. His original body focused on the path of lightning while the temporal clone focused on deepening the 5th level concept of time it had just comprehended.

Time stretched endlessly, offering him all the space he needed to refine, polish, and breakthrough.

Outside, half a month slipped by quietly—though "quiet" was only true on the surface. The skies above the Lower Domain began to change. One after another, powerful auras descended from the heavens, each one sharp enough to split mountains and each one strong enough to suffocate the weak.

Their arrival shook the world as if the very air quivered under their presence. Most of these auras converged upon the Lost Continent, hovering above the Elven lands like ancient guardian stars.

The elves and humans of the Lost Continent trembled with anxiety. After what happened to the Valora Continent, after seeing that land fall into ruin under demonic attack, the sudden descent of so many powerful beings set their hearts pounding with dread. Many feared another calamity, another invasion, another disaster darkening their skies.

But Elven King Elarion calmed them with steady words. He assured them that these were not enemies but allies—great figures from the Four God Nation and other powerful human forces who had come for a crucial reason. He told his people that the world was preparing for a turning point, and the presence of these powerful beings was a necessary step toward confronting the final danger.

Although fear lingered in their hearts, his words brought relief to many. The atmosphere shifted from dread to cautious hope as the people of the Lower Domain awaited whatever event was about to unfold.

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The leaders of the Four God Nation, the surviving leaders of the Seven Overlord Forces of the Middle Domain, and the remaining high-ranking figures from every corner of the human domain gathered one after another in the Lower Domain, all converging toward the Lost Continent.

Their arrival shook the skies with waves of power, and the surrounding oceans churned beneath the pressure of so many Divine Rank experts assembling in one place.

Yet despite the sheer concentration of power, not a single one of them stepped into the territory of the Lost Continent. They hovered in the air outside its boundaries, forming a vast ring of defenders and observers around the ancient land.

Even though many of these experts had the strength to command mountains and reshape rivers, they held themselves back with visible caution.

None dared cross the line.

The curse of the Lost Continent was something every living being on Acaris knew, feared, and respected. It was not a legend, not a rumor, not an old fairy tale spoken around campfires. It was a truth carved into the bones of this world. No being above the Expert Rank was allowed to set foot on that land.

Anyone who attempted to do so would be punished instantly and without mercy. The Tower of Truth, the ancient artifact that presided over the laws of the Lost Continent, would smite the intruder with lightning so powerful that even a Divine Rank expert would be reduced to ashes in a heartbeat.

There was no resistance, no negotiation, no second chance. The Tower did not discriminate. It did not reason. It simply executed.

Many powerful cultivators, drunk on their strength or fueled by arrogance, had tested this curse in the distant past. Divine Rank experts had attempted to challenge it, believing that their cultivation would protect them.

Experts from ancient times once believed they could force their way through by overwhelming the Tower with sheer power. Every single one of them had died the same way—instantly, without leaving a single fragment of their soul behind.

Their ashes had been scattered across the ocean as a grim reminder of the immovable law that protected this land.

The Tower of Truth held absolute authority over Acaris. It was one of the few structures older than civilized history, existing long before the Four God Nation, long before the human era, long before the ascendants or the demons.

Even Mark, with his status as the crownbearer of the world and his near-godlike authority, did not dare step into the Lost Continent personally.

Despite knowing that one of his souls was sealed within the Tower of Truth, he had never attempted to force his way in. The risk was too great. The Tower existed outside the normal boundaries of this world's power hierarchy, and even Mark understood that one wrong move could injure him permanently—even as an immortal crownbearer.

The terror of the Tower's curse was woven into the collective consciousness of every being on Acaris. And so, the skies outside the Lost Continent were filled with countless powerful figures, yet the land remained untouched, silent, and sacred.

It was one of the reasons the demons never touched the Lost Continent.

There had only ever been one person in the entire history of Acaris who could freely walk into the Lost Continent as though the curse meant nothing, and that person was Lucien. His existence alone defied everything that scholars, rulers, and cultivators understood about the workings of the Tower of Truth.

None of them knew how Lucien achieved such a feat. He never explained it, and they never pressed him for answers because one wrong question might expose something dangerous or sacred. Instead, they accepted this miracle for what it was, quietly acknowledging that they were fortunate to have at least one being capable of stepping foot inside the cursed land.

The leaders gathered outside the Lost Continent often discussed the matter among themselves, but no explanation made sense. Some theorized that Lucien possessed a fragment of the Tower of Truth's core authority.

Others believed that he carried a blessing from an ancient entity, perhaps even something left behind by the previous era. Some whispered that he had inherited a power that originated from the beginning of the world.

There were also those who suspected that Lucien himself had a connection to the creation of the curse, although such ideas were spoken only in the privacy of their own thoughts. No one dared to entertain any theory too loudly, whether out of caution or out of respect for a man whose power already overshadowed the strongest among them.

For now, speculation did not matter. What mattered was that he existed. In a world where everything felt as though it was spiraling toward destruction, having even a single figure who could bypass the strictest law of the Lost Continent was an immeasurable relief.

Because only by setting foot in the Lost Continent could they hope to retrieve the second soul of Mark which had been sealed into the Tower of Truth.