Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 Chapter 1325 Final Battle - 12

Mark extended both palms toward the heavens.

High above, the fabric of reality began to rip apart.

A gargantuan edifice of shadow and radiance materialized, possessing a scale that defied human understanding. This was no weapon forged from steel or raw energy, but a manifestation of pure, absolute authority. It resembled a descending celestial sigil, composed of concentric, revolving rings of crimson law. Each ring was etched with profound symbols representing dominion, causality, life, death, and total annihilation. At its epicenter, a massive core of dark red light throbbed like a collapsing star.

The mere presence of this technique began to erase the world.

Even before the strike descended, the ground beneath Max started to vanish. It did not shatter or explode; it simply ceased to be. Mountains dissolved into a silent void. Forests blinked out of existence as if they had never been planted.

Oceans evaporated into nothingness, leaving behind jagged scars where reality itself refused to mend. The firmament fractured into a myriad of glowing shards as the fundamental laws stabilizing the world collapsed one after another.

Max grasped the situation immediately. 'This is disastrous.' He understood that against an attack of this magnitude, he was utterly helpless. Mark had exerted his full strength to wipe the world of Acaris from existence, and since they occupied that space, they were being erased alongside it.

This was not a strike intended for a single target. It was the execution of an entire realm.

His spatial laws groaned under the pressure, struggling to halt the disintegration, but even his fifth level concept of space was being erased rather than merely broken. The Seven Lightnings of Divine Punishment shrieked and coiled, their forms losing stability as the world they were meant to judge withered away. Infernal energy and holy light flared around Max in a desperate struggle, yet even these powers were pushed back by the absolute nature of Mark’s creation.

Bit by bit, every ounce of his power was being wiped away by Mark's technique.

"This is the authority granted to a crownbearer," Mark proclaimed. His body had begun to fail, his divine flesh peeling away to reveal his base form. Crimson blood leaked from his eyes and mouth, while his crown grew dull and fractured, having sacrificed everything to fuel the assault. "If this world cannot be mine, then it shall not exist at all. You shall all vanish into nothingness with it."

The massive sigil finally descended.

As it dropped, the horizon was swallowed. Space folded in on itself, crushed into a point of non-existence. Time splintered, with individual moments collapsing into one another before being completely deleted. The world of Acaris let out a final, silent scream as its remaining territories were consumed by a wave of absolute erasure. There was no thunderous explosion. There were no ruins left behind.

There was only a hollow absence.

By the time the strike reached Max, Acaris was already dead. The entire world had been scrubbed from existence. No soil, no water, no peaks, and certainly no land remained. Everything had vanished.

"Is this the end?" Max wondered if this was his final thought. The erasure reached him, and he too was wiped away.

Mark plummeted from the sky, his godly transformation entirely spent. His body returned to its original state as he tumbled into the void where a world once stood. The technique faded alongside him, its grim purpose achieved, leaving a vacuum where a vibrant world had been.

In that infinite nothingness, where the traces of existence had been scrubbed clean, Max was gone. Freya and Lucien had perished as well. They had all been erased with Acaris.

Only the battered form of Mark drifted in the abyss, accompanied by Mimi, the red cloud calamity.

"So, your true vulnerability is exposed the moment you unleash that attack in your final form?"

A voice resonated through the empty chasm, calm and composed, piercing through the lingering echoes of destruction. Out of the void, a figure emerged. It was Max.

Yet, he seemed different. His aura was more stable, his presence curiously detached, and his attire was not what he had worn during the conflict. His body bore no wounds, showed no signs of fatigue, and carried no remnants of the world that had just been destroyed.

Mark’s eyes dilated in sheer terror.

"How?" he shrieked, blood trickling from his lips. His frame shook uncontrollably as the backlash of his ultimate technique ravaged his internals. "How can you still be alive?"

He stumbled forward, gazing at the figure as if it were a ghost born of his own madness. He had sacrificed everything. The crown had exhausted its final authority. His divine form had shattered. The Power of Destruction had completely wiped out the world of Acaris. Nothing should have remained. No earth. No sky. No life.

"Impossible!" Mark cried out, his voice cracking with insanity. "That attack was designed to erase everything. It was the ultimate power of the crown—the Power of Destruction. It traded my entire strength to delete the world itself. How are you still standing there?"

The Max standing before him did not hurry to reply. He merely watched Mark with a tranquil expression, like one observing a defeated predator unable to grasp its own demise.

"I did not survive," the clone stated flatly. "The Max who faced you directly was indeed erased along with the world."

Mark went still.

"What?" He gasped for air.

"Just before that moment," the clone continued, his voice steady, "the original me summoned this body from the Dimension of Time. It was the only remaining option—a contingency plan established long before the battle reached its conclusion."

Mark’s pupils quivered as the truth began to sink in, though he fought to deny it.

"This body," the clone said, lightly tapping his chest, "exists outside the standard flow of time. It is not tethered to the past, present, or future of that world. I am not bound by causality as you perceive it."

Mark shook his head frantically. "No. That is illogical. Everything is subject to time. Even the gods. Even the world itself."

"That holds true," the clone countered, "for those who belong to a specific timeline."

He took a step forward, his very presence causing ripples in the void—not of raw power, but of something far more profound.

"But I am not restricted to a single timeline. I exist beyond time itself. Your attack erased existence within a specific timeline; it deleted the space and causality tied to that flow. However, something that does not belong to that flow cannot be erased by it."

Mark recoiled as if he had been struck.

"That is impossible," he croaked. "No soul can exist beyond the reach of time."

The clone’s gaze sharpened, filled with a quiet, undeniable certainty.

"Then you simply have not seen enough," he remarked. "Your crown gave you dominion over a world. It gave you the power to annihilate existence tied to it. But it never granted you sovereignty over time itself."

Mark’s breathing became labored as despair finally replaced his rage. He understood now. The strike that was supposed to end his troubles had revealed his final weakness. By using it, he had stripped himself of his power, returned to a mortal state, and was now facing something his godhood could never have touched.

The void remained silent.

In that stillness, Mark finally accepted that his loss was sealed the moment he chose to destroy the world instead of transcending it.

"But this is not the conclusion I desire. My ending looks different from this," the clone said softly.

As those words echoed in the vacuum, something unprecedented occurred.

Time itself answered.

An invisible, absolute force radiated from the clone as he channeled the fifth level concept of time for the first time. There was no flash or blast. Instead, the void shuddered, as if reality had suddenly realized a contradiction existed. The emptiness left by the erasure began to ripple, fracture, and then reverse.

The lost world of Acaris began to reappear.

Initially, it was just faint outlines—spectral images of mountains and horizons manifesting where there was nothing. Then, substance filled the forms. Space rewove itself thread by thread. Seas rushed back into their places, water flowing upward to fill the hollow basins.

Continents pulled themselves together as broken landmasses rose and fused. The sky regained its hue as the tattered atmosphere stitched itself whole again.

Existence itself was being unmade and then rewritten.

Mark felt the change instantly.

His body, which had been floating aimlessly, jerked as time took hold of him. The blood he had spilled was pulled back into his mouth. His injuries sealed themselves in reverse order.

His posture straightened against his will as his form was dragged back through the moments he had just lived. He drifted upward as if gravity had inverted, his face a mask of confusion and growing dread as causality flowed backward.

This was not mere healing.

This was regression.

For the clone, the cost was immediate and severe.

Blood began to stream from his eyes, carving red paths down his cheeks. It flowed from his nose and mouth, staining the void with a crimson that couldn't be rewound fast enough to spare him. His frame shook under the mounting pressure.

Reversing time on such a massive scale was a feat that not even a master of the fifth level concept of time should have attempted, let alone achieved.

But the clone had been ready.

From the moment of his creation, he had remained in profound meditation within the Dimension of Time, harvesting time essence without pause. In a realm where time was infinite, he had stored an nearly bottomless reserve. That reservoir was now being drained in an instant, sacrificed to force this impossibility into being.

The rewind persisted.

The world stabilized.

Time finally rolled back to the precise second before the devastating attack touched the world, halting just before it could reach Max, Freya, or Lucien. The air became unnaturally still, as if the universe were holding its breath. For a mere heartbeat, everything froze.

Only the clone retained the power to move.

He walked through the frozen reality, stopping before the original Max, who was trapped in that suspended moment. Placing a palm on Max's chest, the clone transferred the final remnants of his time essence, breaking the temporal seal that bound him.

"Huh?" Max whispered as his consciousness snapped back.

Before he could utter a question, the clone pressed two fingers to Max's brow.

Through that contact, Max witnessed everything.

He saw the world erased. He saw Freya and Lucien disappear without a sound. He saw the red cloud consume the remnants. He saw Mark standing in the void, victorious yet hollow. He saw the grim fate that awaited them all if the timeline had not been changed.