Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100-Chapter 361: Healing

Following the children's frantic shouts, a few adults came rushing toward the crater, their expressions filled with a mix of caution and curiosity. They stopped at the edge, squinting down at the damage below and the figure lying at its center.

A tall, broad-shouldered man rubbed his chin, scanning the surroundings. "Huh… who's this kid? And what the hell happened here?"

Another man, leaner and with a straw hat slung over his back, peered into the pit. "Maybe he fell from the sky?" he suggested, his tone half-serious.

The first man gave him a sharp look. "Are you an idiot? If someone actually fell from the sky, we'd be digging up bones, not getting stared at by a kid with glowing eyes."

Max blinked slowly, still weak, still unmoving—his gaze following the exchange in silence.

Just then, a new voice spoke up—calmer, steadier.

"Alright, sun's dipping. No need to argue over how he got here. Let's get him out and be on our way."

A middle-aged man approached the edge of the crater, his presence quiet but commanding. He wore a dark-green cloak with a wooden clasp and had the air of someone used to giving directions—and having them followed.

The others nodded.

The two men who had first spotted Max slid carefully down the side of the crater, their boots crunching against loose dirt and rock. Dust rose in small clouds as they approached him.

One of them crouched beside Max and gave a half-smile. "Alright, kid. Let's get you out of this hole before nightfall. You can explain the rest later."

He reached under Max's arm and began to lift him carefully.

"Whoa—you're heavier than you look," the man chuckled, shifting his grip. "What've you been eating? Cores?"

Max grunted as pain flared through his torso, but he didn't complain.

They managed to pull him upright and hoisted him out of the crater, passing him up toward the others, who carefully laid him in the back of the wooden cart.

Max's body throbbed in protest, but for now, he was just glad to be off the ground.

"Thank you… all of you… for helping me," he said weakly, voice rough but steady.

The man who had lifted him chuckled again. "So you can talk. I was starting to think you were mute."

Max gave a wry smile, letting his head rest against a bundle of cloth in the cart.

The man leaned casually on the edge of the cart, looking him over. "So… what happened to you? You look like you crawled out of a beast's stomach. Don't tell me you escaped from a ranch or something."

"Ranch?" Max echoed inwardly. 'What are they, cattle herders?'

His eyes narrowed briefly in thought before offering the first lie that came to mind.

"I was walking… and something fell from the sky. Hit me. Hard."

The man raised an eyebrow.

Then shrugged. "Huh. Funny enough, a few folks said they saw a meteor streaking through the sky earlier. Guess you were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

He stood straight and stretched his back with a groan. "Well, lucky you're alive."

Then, with a short nod, he turned. "Rest here for now. We'll talk more once we get back."

Max watched him walk away, then closed his eyes for a moment.

The cart creaked as it began to move.

'Wherever this place is… it's a strange part of the Lost Continent.'

But for now… he was alive.

And that was enough.

Soon they arrived near a camp or at least what resembled Max to a camp or should he a small village but the people here called it ranch which made Max even more curious about what these people were up to.

There were twenty or thirty camps scattered around the field where many human beings were living and walking around.

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Max was given one of the camp to rest.

As the night deepened and the stars settled overhead in a blanket of cold light, Max lay quietly in the back of the bed in the camp.

Then—very slowly—he closed his eyes and focused inward.

A faint glow began to pulse from beneath his skin.

Black scales, sleek and luminous, began to spread over both of his arms. They shimmered with an eerie glow, dancing softly beneath the moonlight like liquid obsidian. The moment they surfaced, a soothing warmth spread through his veins, pushing out the cold stiffness buried deep within his bones.

Max exhaled softly, relief washing over him.

This was his Dragon Scales Transformation—an active manifestation of his draconic bloodline. It was the source of his defense, power… and in dire times, his healing.

Normally, his body would heal passively from injuries—his bloodline working quietly in the background, aided by the resilience of his dragon scales. But this time…

This time was different.

Nothing had worked since he'd landed.

The space storm had ravaged his inner organs, distorted the flow of energy through his veins, and left his meridians scattered like cracked glass. And on top of that, the infernal energy coursing through his body had invaded every cell—aggressive, chaotic, hungry.

It was his fortune that his body could handle infernal energy now otherwise he would have been toast by now.

Moreover he had been fighting it all just to stay conscious.

That's why he'd activated the scales manually.

And it worked.

The moment his dragon scales came alive, that familiar warmth spread through his core, calm and strong—like a stream of molten gold seeping into cracked stone. His injuries, both internal and external, began to mend.

The sharp pain in his chest dulled.

The throbbing in his limbs eased.

Even his breathing, once shallow and ragged, grew steady.

For the first time since crashing into this strange corner of the Lost Continent, Max felt like himself again.

Time passed slowly.

The cart rolled on, deeper into the night.

By midnight, Max could feel that the healing was nearly complete. The damage was mending, the pain nearly gone… but something wasn't right.

He couldn't move.

Not even a twitch.

His brow furrowed.

"Why… why can't I move yet?" he murmured, staring up at the stars, voice barely above a whisper. "I should be fine now…"

As if on cue—