Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Chapter 1255  Deal with the Devil

Max's smile didn't waver as he took a step forward, his voice calm and strangely persuasive despite the tension suffocating the air. He spoke as though he were discussing terms at a marketplace rather than negotiating with an immortal calamity.

"It's simple, really," Max began, his tone almost friendly. "We will unseal the remaining parts of your soul. All of them. We will return every piece to you without contest. And if we manage to locate your crown—your true source of authority—we will hand it over as well."

The leaders stiffened. Even Lucien's eyes narrowed slightly. They knew it had to be done but they also had to do their parts. They had to look nervous and scared here.

Max continued without hesitation.

"All of that," he said, gesturing lightly with one hand, "given back to you, freely."

Mark's eyes sharpened. He said nothing, which was a rare thing for him. His attention was entirely fixed on Max now.

"But," Max went on slowly, "this generosity comes with a single condition."

The sky seemed to still again.

"You," Max said with absolute clarity, "will use your full strength to help protect our world from the calamity approaching it. The red cloud that devours continents. The devouring spirit that even you acknowledged is beyond your control."

Mark's stare deepened. He didn't interrupt.

Max held his gaze. "Help us, and we will restore you to your peak. We will give you your entire being back, including the crown you lost. And once you are whole, nothing in this world can threaten you again."

He tilted his head slightly.

"What do you think?"

A heavy silence followed. The ocean below them barely moved. The sky hung still. No one dared to breathe too loudly, afraid that even the faintest noise would provoke Mark before Max finished negotiating.

Lucien remained unreadable beside Max, though inside his mind he was laughing. Handing Mark his strength back was a risk so enormous that even disasters could envy it.

Yet he also understood what Max was aiming for. It was not a concession. It was not a plea. It was a trap—a precise pressure point forced upon Mark's only fear: the unknown fate of a crownbearer if their world died.

Mark, however, did not react with instant anger or rejection.

Instead, he simply stared at Max. A long, cold, calculating stare. His expression did not show rage or amusement anymore. It was the look of a predator processing new information very carefully.

Finally, he spoke, his tone lower than before.

"You would restore me fully," Mark said, "in exchange for my strength?"

His eyes narrowed.

"For the survival of this world?"

Max nodded once. "Yes."

Another long silence followed.

Mark's lips curved, but it wasn't a sneer.

It was a smile forged from deep thought. A dangerous, contemplative smile. The kind of expression he wore when he found something intriguing—something he had not anticipated but could potentially use.

"So that is your offer?" Mark asked quietly.

Max didn't blink. "Yes."

Mark exhaled softly, almost amused again, but the mirth did not reach his eyes.

"You are either exceptionally brave… or exceptionally foolish."

He leaned forward slightly, his aura tightening around him like a coiled serpent.

"But I am curious to hear the rest. Because this deal of yours… may not be entirely meaningless."

The leaders stiffened in shock.

Max's smile did not fade. In fact, it deepened as he met Mark's gaze head-on, the same gaze that had crushed countless beings into dust for daring to stand before him.

"Good," Max said quietly. "Your part is simple. You handle the dark red cloud. You stop that thing from swallowing our world. You keep it from devouring the continents, the oceans, the people. That alone is your condition."

His tone remained steady, but each word carried weight. Max was no longer negotiating from fear or desperation. He spoke like someone who held the final card.

"I will return your soul fragments when I have all of them," Max continued. "And if we find your crown, we will give that to you as well. That is the deal."

The declaration hung in the air like a drawn blade.

Mark's expression darkened. He stared straight into Max's eyes without blinking, as if trying to see past the surface and into the deepest parts of his intent. Then his voice cut through the heavy silence.

"I want the soul you took from that damned tower," Mark said. "Right now."

His tone was not a request. It was not even a demand. It was the voice of someone used to being obeyed the moment he spoke.

Max didn't flinch.

His smile remained unchanged, calm and faintly amused. "That's not possible."

Mark's aura tightened sharply, creating shockwaves across the sky, but Max continued without hesitation.

"As I said, I will only give your soul back when I have all of them. Right now, I only have your second fragment. I still need to unseal the third. Once I have all two and your crown—if we find it—I will hand them to you."

He lifted a finger slightly.

"That is the condition."

Mark's eyes narrowed. "And what if I force it?"

The air froze.

The ocean began to churn again under the pressure of Mark's killing intent, and several weaker Divine Rank elders lost their breath as the weight of his power pressed them down. A flicker of crimson lightning slithered through the clouds overhead.

Max's sneer surfaced instantly, sharp and fearless. "You can force it if you want."

Mark paused.

"But," Max continued slowly, "if you do, you'll never get the last part of your soul. And you'll never get your crown back. If that is what you want, then go ahead."

Mark's aura slowly retracted, thinning from an overwhelming suffocating pressure into something controlled yet razor-sharp. His expression shifted again, the earlier irritation fading into something far more complex. His eyes narrowed, and for a long, heavy moment, he simply stared at Max as if trying to decipher whether he was insane, brilliant or both.

Then, unexpectedly, Mark laughed.

It wasn't the wild chaotic laughter from before. This time it was low, edged with mockery and dark amusement, rolling across the coastline like thunder that refused to die out.