Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100-Chapter 555: A Perfect Counter

Max could feel the change in the air, as if the entire temple had taken a breath and was holding it. Each leaf, now cloaked in black flame, trembled faintly in the air, brimming with sharpness so refined it could slice through divine metal.

She wasn’t holding back anymore.

Max narrowed his eyes, watching as the swarm of pitch-black leaves slowly lifted around her in formation, poised to strike from all directions like a storm of death.

The elven woman’s expression remained graceful, composed, but her intent was razor sharp. She had thrown down a challenge—and now, she was going to carve the answer out of him.

But Max wasn’t worried at all.

"Emperor’s Domain," he muttered softly, almost casually, as black flames began to flicker around his head. Within seconds, those flames surged upward, coiling and twisting until they solidified into a blazing black crown that hovered regally above his head, pulsing with quiet dominance.

But that wasn’t all—high above the temple itself, as if summoned by the sheer gravity of his command, another crown formed. Towering, vast, and woven from the same black flames, it expanded until it stretched across the entire ceilingless temple, casting a dark glow over everything beneath it like a second sky.

The moment that massive flaming crown took form, the air changed. It became heavier, almost reverent, as though the very realm acknowledged the arrival of a sovereign. A force not just of strength—but of control, of rule, of an emperor.

The elven woman narrowed her eyes, her brows knitting ever so slightly. "This inheritance..." she murmured with rare seriousness. "To use it to this degree... one would need absolute perfection." Her tone lost its earlier calmness. "Only then could it hope to block my leaves."

Without hesitation, she raised her arm, and the obsidian leaves that had hovered around her whistled through the air with a shriek—sharp, deadly, and infused with a divine authority of their own.

They darted toward Max like arrows of light and darkness fused together, each one carrying enough force to pierce mountains and silence souls.

Max didn’t even blink.

The black flames swirling around him suddenly tightened, condensing into fine patterns that shimmered briefly—and then the first leaf formed.

A single black flaming leaf, glowing like it had been dipped in ink drawn from the sun’s own death. Then a second. A third. A fourth. In mere heartbeats, dozens materialized. Then hundreds. Then thousands.

They surrounded him like a black lotus blooming in the heart of an inferno—each leaf forged from the flame of his will, each shaped by the law of his authority.

The obsidian leaves came.

But so did his.

With the twin flaming crowns above him and his eyes glinting with calm resolve, Max raised his hand—his will surged. And under the dominion of his Emperor’s Domain, every single leaf of his inheritance moved.

Just at that moment, the elven woman’s attack came.

Hundreds of sharp, flame-forged blades tore through the space between them like a tidal wave of light and shadow, each leaf spinning and slicing with impossible precision, all of them aimed directly at Max from every possible direction—above, below, left, right, even curving around space itself as if guided by divine will.

The attack was no longer just an expression of power—it was art, devastation turned into choreography. A storm of darkness.

But Max stood unmoved, the black flaming crown above him thrumming with energy, his expression calm—confident. His eyes remained still, but his mind worked like a clockwork engine at divine speed.

Within him, the Three Dimensional Body always active, its omniscient perception expanding his awareness beyond mortal senses. Time seemed to slow in his vision, space itself laid bare like a map in his thoughts.

Every leaf, every trajectory, every ripple in the air—they were all visible to him. He saw every incoming threat. He calculated each motion.

He responded.

His Emperor’s Domain stirred to life, and the thousands of black flaming leaves that floated silently around him moved in a single instant. Not randomly. Not in chaos. But with absolute precision.

Each of Max’s leaves danced into the air like summoned spirits obeying a silent call, intercepting the incoming leaves one by one. A counter to every attack. A response to every angle.

His domain wasn’t just overpowering—it was orchestrated, composed with the ruthless efficiency of a sovereign defending his empire.

Two storms collided.

The sky above the temple turned into a swirling canvas of fire and shadow. Leaves met leaves mid-air—black flames clashed with obsidian embers—and for every screeching impact, a brilliant shockwave rippled through the sky like cracks in the heavens.

The temple shook beneath the might of their clash, the ground trembling not from force, but from the sheer authority that blanketed the space like a suffocating crown.

One by one, the elven woman’s leaves were stopped—no, eradicated. They never reached Max. Not a single one. His leaves pierced through them, devoured them in bursts of black flame, or slammed them from the sky like meteors of sovereign will.

He had mapped the entire battlefield before the battle even began. Nothing escaped him. Nothing reached him.

The elven woman watched, her golden eyes wide, her lips parting slightly in a rare moment of awe. For the first time in millennia, not one of her obsidian leaves had touched her opponent.

Not one.

Max stood at the heart of it all, his crown burning brighter than ever.

"Is that all?" he asked, not out of arrogance—but certainty. In his domain, only one Emperor reigned.

The elven woman’s eyes widened, her delicate brows arching high as she stared at Max with a mixture of disbelief and rising excitement.

"You have mastered that inheritance to perfection in just two months’ time?!" she exclaimed, her voice sharp with shock but tinged with admiration.

Her gaze swept over him again, this time no longer with the air of casual superiority she had worn earlier, but with the seriousness of someone recognizing a true genius.

"Amazing," she murmured, almost to herself, golden eyes gleaming like twin suns as a smile slowly curled at the corners of her lips. "It seems like the Mark of Divinity has chosen a good one this time around." She gave a small nod, as if acknowledging a rare truth she had been waiting to see. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

But the awe in her tone quickly shifted to delight—bright, thrilling delight, like the thrill before a thunderstorm. She stood straighter now, her golden hair shimmering in the sunlight filtering down through the ruined temple roof, and her hands gently twirled in the air as mana surged around her like a tide.

"But don’t think you can get past me this easily," she said, her grin blooming into something fierce and untamed. Her entire demeanor shifted in an instant—from graceful elegance to boundless intensity. "Until now, I’ve never had a reason to go all out. Not once, since the creation of the Nine Dragons Painting. No one ever reached this far while still having the strength to stand before me."

Her eyes glowed, bright golden like ancient runes being awakened, and the pressure that erupted from her body turned the wind heavy, sharp, and scorching.

"But now... now I’m excited." She raised her hand, and the sky above them dimmed slightly as if responding to her call. "So come, bearer of the Mark of Divinity—let me see how much you’re worth. Let me go all out—for the first time in an eternity."

And with those words, her aura flared like a golden wildfire, and the true battle finally began.