Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Chapter 1405  Temptation of Peace!

"I should sit here all day," Max muttered silently as his eyelids lowered, his breathing growing slow and even, as though the weight he had been carrying for so long had finally loosened its grip on him.

The moment his eyes closed, the constant tension that had followed him since his ascension seemed to melt away. There was no urgency, no danger, no calculations of enemies or future battles.

For the first time since stepping into the Divine Realm, Max felt a peace so profound that it almost frightened him. It was not the fleeting calm of safety or the satisfaction after victory, but something far deeper, a serenity that seemed woven into the fabric of existence itself.

He had never realized such peace existed, not even in the quiet moments of his past life or during solitary cultivation sessions.

As he relaxed further, his consciousness began to drift. It did not fall or scatter, but sank gently, like a leaf descending onto still water. His awareness slipped deeper into the dimensions connected to him, no longer observing them with intent or purpose, but simply existing within them.

He felt the slow pulse of the Dimension of Flames, steady and warm, its fires no longer violent but comforting, like a hearth that welcomed him home. The Dimension of Lightning hummed softly, its storms calming into vast oceans of electric light that no longer roared, but resonated in harmony with his thoughts.

Time unfolded around him without pressure. He could feel moments stretch and contract, yet there was no anxiety tied to it. Space lost its distance and meaning, becoming a gentle openness rather than something to be crossed or controlled. Ice no longer symbolized stillness and death, but clarity and preservation, while the void ceased to feel empty, instead revealing itself as boundless potential waiting in silence.

Slowly, Max began to lose the sense of where he ended and where the dimensions began. His thoughts grew quieter, his sense of self blurring as he drifted further into the interconnected worlds.

He was no longer a cultivator sitting on a throne surrounded by doors. He was a presence diffused across countless realities, touching them all without effort or resistance. The burdens of ambition, conflict, and destiny faded into the background, replaced by a gentle awareness that felt eternal.

In that moment, Max did not seek power or understanding. He simply existed, suspended within the vast world of dimensions, slowly and steadily losing himself in a tranquility so deep that even the concept of time seemed unwilling to disturb it.

"Wake up…"

Just as Max stood on the verge of sinking into an eternal sleep, a faint voice brushed against his consciousness. It was distant, almost unreal, like a ripple on the surface of a perfectly still lake.

The disturbance irritated him.

Even now, someone was reaching him. Even now, someone was breaking the peace he had finally found.

"Wake up!"

The voice came again, louder this time, cutting through the serenity that wrapped around his mind. Max felt a knot of resistance form within him. He did not want to respond. He did not want to leave this place.

The world of dimensions had given him something he had chased through countless battles, deaths, and rebirths. It had given him peace. Not the fragile kind that shattered under pressure, but a deep and all consuming calm that asked nothing of him.

"Wake the fuck up!"

The shout roared through his mind like a thunderclap.

Max winced. The peace trembled, cracks spreading through it as confusion and irritation bled in. He felt torn, pulled between the quiet abyss he was slipping into and the harsh insistence of the voice calling him back.

"Who?" Max finally muttered, his words heavy and slow, as though dragging them up from a deep ocean. His eyes opened reluctantly, the calm still clinging to him even as reality began to seep back in.

What he saw made his thoughts stumble.

Standing before him was himself.

The other Max looked frantic, his expression twisted with urgency and fear, nothing like the tranquility Max had just abandoned. He was shouting, his voice raw and desperate, his hands already reaching out.

"Wake up. Wake up, Max!"

The sight shattered what remained of Max's clarity. His mind reeled, struggling to reconcile what he was seeing.

"What are you doing?" He asked, his voice dull and unfocused, as though the words belonged to someone else. He could not understand why his own clone was here, why this version of himself was so desperate to pull him away from the throne, away from the only place that had ever felt truly right.

The confusion deepened into conflict. One part of him wanted to sink back into the stillness, to close his eyes again and let everything fade. Another part, shaken by the fear etched on his other self's face, felt a creeping unease, a warning that something was terribly wrong.

Before the other Max could answer, he acted.

With all his strength, he grabbed Max and yanked him violently away from the throne. The sudden force tore through Max's senses, ripping him out of the gentle pull of the dimensions.

The peace shattered completely, collapsing like a dream torn apart at the moment of waking, leaving behind only disorientation and the echo of what he had almost lost himself to.

At that moment, Max's consciousness snapped back into alignment, reconnecting fully with his clone, and the truth flooded into him with terrifying clarity.

"Damn it, this throne is a veil trap," Max cursed aloud as he stared at the empty seat before him, his voice carrying a rare edge of anger.

Through the memories his clone shared, Max finally understood what had happened. The instant he sat on the throne and allowed himself to sink into the world of dimensions, the connection between him and his clone had been severed.

That alone should have been impossible. Max and his clone did not share a simple mental link. They shared a single consciousness inhabiting two bodies. No external force should have been capable of cutting that connection, yet the throne had done exactly that.

Once the link was broken, there was nothing to anchor Max to reality anymore. With no external interruption and no shared awareness to pull him back, his consciousness had begun drifting deeper and deeper into the dimensional world.

What he had felt as peace was not rest. It was a slow dissolution. A gentle sinking into something that would never let him return.

As Max recalled that moment, the calm, the absence of burden, the overwhelming desire to remain there forever, a chill ran down his spine. The realization was horrifying. That peace had not been a gift. It had been a lure. A silence so perfect that it erased the will to awaken.

"If my clone had not forced me awake," Max muttered quietly, his gaze never leaving the throne, "I would have entered eternal sleep along with it."

The thought lingered heavily in his mind. The throne was not merely a symbol of authority or a conduit of control. It was a test, or perhaps a filter, one that judged whether the Dimensional Keeper possessed the will to remain awake in the face of absolute serenity.

Max exhaled slowly, his expression solemn. He now understood that power at this level did not always come in the form of destruction or domination. Sometimes, the greatest danger was the temptation to let go.