Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 Chapter 1323 Final Battle - 10

"These bolts of lightning are impressive… but they aren't enough," Mark remarked, his unnatural laughter echoing across the shattered firmament. He kept his eyes locked on Max, showing a twisted sense of admiration born of insanity rather than mere mockery. "I'll grant you this. You are the most formidable opponent I have ever encountered. You surpass the four divine beasts. You are mightier than the demons. For that reason, you have earned the right to behold the true essence of a crownbearer."

The world of Acaris reacted the instant those words were spoken.

The earth beneath Mark's feet didn't just crack; it unraveled entirely, as if the planet were offering up its very foundation to him. Massive torrents of glowing essence surged from every corner of the globe, flowing into his frame like rivers returning to the ocean.

Mountains crumbled into raw energy. Forests faded into shimmering dust. Even the atmosphere seemed to lose its physical properties, converting into pure power that rushed toward him without hesitation.

Mark's physical form began its metamorphosis.

The crown resting on his head erupted in a blinding dark red radiance as it grew and merged with his skull. It was no longer a mere tool but had become an inseparable part of his being.

His skin began to peel away in layers—not in a gruesome display, but in a transformation that felt both sacred and final. Beneath the old flesh, a new form emerged, constructed from solidified divine law. Every muscle was etched with glowing runes that throbbed in synchronization with the planet's pulse.

He grew steadily in height until he stood like a colossal monument over the field of battle. A halo of fractured light materialized behind his head, spinning slowly; it was composed of interlocking sigils representing authority, dominion, and the laws of causality.

From his shoulders, gargantuan wings unfurled. They were not made of feathers, but of crystallized world essence—translucent, infinite, and spanning the horizon like broken continents drifting in the sky.

Any lingering humanity vanished from his eyes. They transformed into twin stars of gold and crimson, burning with the collective will of the world and the rot that had tainted him. With every breath he drew, reality itself curved inward, as if existence were straining to survive in his presence. The air shrieked, space distorted, and time itself seemed to falter.

This was far more than a mere boost in power.

This was a true apotheosis.

Mark did not just stand upon the world anymore; he existed as the world itself.

"I am the crownbearer," he proclaimed, his voice layered with a multitude of echoes that carried the weight of countless ages. "I am the manifested will of Acaris. Every cause passes through me. Every effect originates from me. I cannot be defeated so long as this world survives."

Watching from the distance, Freya felt her very soul shrink back in terror. Lucien gripped his fists tight, his face darker than it had ever been. Even they could feel the truth now: this was no longer a fight against a powerful foe. It was a war against a god who was tethered to the very life of the planet.

Beneath the heavens filled with judgment lightning, Max remained motionless, seven dragons circling him like silent guardians. The sheer pressure descending upon him could have wiped out entire civilizations, yet he did not flinch. His eyes held Mark's massive form without a hint of dread, reflecting only a calm, iron-willed resolve.

"So, this is your ultimate form," Max said softly, his voice remaining firm despite the divine aura before him. "A god birthed from a ruined world and kept alive by stolen causality."

Mark opened his arms wide as the essence of Acaris continued to flood into him without end. "Come then, Max. Let us see if your judgment is sharp enough to slay a god."

"A god, is it?" Max whispered, a ghost of a smile touching his lips despite the suffocating weight pressing down on him.

Suddenly, the air surrounding him ignited as a deep red aura exploded from his body. It was violent, oppressive, and carried a heat that felt more ancient than sin. In a flash, his white hair shifted to a vibrant crimson, the strands dancing wildly as if possessed by a life of their own.

His skin took on a reddish hue, faintly marked with demonic sigils that throbbed with infernal power. His eyes, already red, burned with a sharper, more pitiless light. A heavy darkness spilled outward from him, consuming both sound and light. Ancient, thick infernal energy saturated the battlefield, smelling of absolute domination and ruin.

This was the Infernal Demon Transformation.

Max rarely tapped into this state. It was a power defined by wrath and corruption, one that swallowed mercy and restraint whole. But against a god merged with the world, holding back was no longer an option.

Before that infernal aura could even settle, a second power surged forth.

A burst of golden light erupted from Max's body, radiant and pure, slicing through the darkness like the dawn. The change occurred on his right side, creating a stark contrast to his demonic half.

His right arm became a luminous, flawless gold, etched with sacred patterns that exuded a calm authority. The hair on the right side of his head turned to brilliant gold, flowing like liquid sun, while his right eye became a sphere of pure light.

This was the Heavenly Luminous Sacred Bloodline.

Even though it was incomplete, its presence was enough to challenge divine authority. Sacred energy poured from that side of his body, standing opposite the infernal power without conflict, existing instead in a bizarre and terrifying equilibrium. One half represented annihilation and rot; the other stood for judgment and purity.

As both states stabilized, the space around Max began to warp.

Golden light coalesced at his side, floating like a loyal star rather than merging into him. Black flames followed, twisting with a hunger to devour, their presence bending both shadow and heat.

The White Lotus Ice Essence bloomed, its crystalline petals forming and shattering in an elegant loop that froze the very fabric of space. The Concept of Severing Sword manifested as an unseen but absolute edge, causing reality to crack as if sliced by invisible blades.

These powers orbited Max, held in a state of controlled balance.

Encircling everything, the Seven Colored Lightnings of Divine Punishment surged and wove together, acting as the foundation for this terrifying array of forces. Violet, indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange, and red lightning coiled as one, anchoring every other power to a single, unified will.

Sacred radiance and infernal darkness. Absolute ice and devouring fire. Divine punishment and the law of severing.

Everything revolved around Max.

He stood at the center—half sacred being, half demon—bathed in a spectrum of colors that defied nature. His mere presence distorted the battlefield beyond recognition. The world itself groaned under the sheer weight of his existence, struggling to hold together even with the spatial laws he had enforced to stabilize it.

This was not a form meant to last, nor was it a state of true balance.

This was Max's absolute strongest form.

Across the void, Mark's divine figure loomed, his wings of world essence spread wide as authority poured into him. Yet, for the first time since his ascension, his face changed. It wasn't fear, but it was something dangerously close to wariness.

Two gods now stood face to face.

One was a product of the world's corruption and authority.

The other was forged through impossible evolution, judgment, and pure defiance.

The final confrontation was now inevitable.