Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 Chapter 1329 Reunions

Max descended toward the Valora Continent, his eyes scanning the terrain below as a flood of memories returned to him.

From the plains in the east to the merchant hubs of the west, and from the mountain villages of the north to the southern shores and the great central heartland, the world appeared exactly as it had before he departed for the Middle Domain.

The marks of conflict had vanished. Ruined cities were restored to their former glory. Greenery covered the fields once more, and the thoroughfares teemed with life.

Vitality surged across the entire continent. A thick atmosphere of bewilderment hung in the air, weighted with awe and shock. People remained rooted to the spot, inspecting their own limbs, touching their skin, and pressing their hands against their hearts as they struggled to grasp the current reality.

Just minutes prior, many had perished under the claws of demons or within hellish blazes, their existence snuffed out without a second thought. Now, they stood beneath the open sky again, breathing and thinking. Some muttered soft prayers. Others broke into loud sobs. A few were convinced they had entered the afterlife, unable to fathom how the finality of death could be overturned.

These were the very humans who had been butchered by the twin demons and the myriad of horrors during the conflict. Max had pulled every one of them back from the abyss, along with every soul on Acaris who had fallen during the brutal struggle. Death had been forced to release its prey, and the living were restored to their world.

In that instant, Max’s form materialized high in the heavens above the continent. His aura was simultaneously tranquil and majestic. Channeling his mana, he broadcasted his likeness and his voice across the realm so that every city, tiny village, and isolated outpost could behold him.

"Everyone, I am Max Voidwalker," Max declared, his tone firm and resonant as it rippled across the lands. "You may also recognize me as Max Morgan."

As soon as he uttered his name, the Valora Continent erupted. A tidal wave of cheering surged upward. Sounds of ecstasy, profound relief, and deep appreciation filled the atmosphere. Some fell to their knees in worship. Others shook their fists at the heavens. Even those who couldn't grasp the mechanics of the miracle felt their terror evaporate at the sight of him.

To the masses, Max was their savior, and hearing his voice brought a sense of serenity.

"The struggle against the demons is over," Max went on, his speech infused with absolute truth. "We have wiped every demon from the face of this world. Not a single one remains. You have no reason to fear their return."

The roaring cheers intensified, and many wept without control as the crushing weight of fear they had endured for so long was finally discarded.

"The war has been won," Max stated. "Rest now. There shall be no further combat, no more invasions, and no more agony of this sort. It is finished."

His declaration rooted itself in the souls of the Valora people like a decree of destiny. For the first time in an eternity, the world felt truly secure.

Upon hearing Max’s proclamation, a collective breath of relief washed over the continent like a soft tide. Those who had been paralyzed by shock finally relaxed their frames, as if a mountain they had been carrying for years had finally been removed.

Some slumped to the ground, others gripped their chests, and many succumbed to their emotions, pulling their kin into frantic embraces. They had all looked death in the face. They had watched their fathers fall, seen their children perish in their arms, and felt their own consciousness fade in moments of absolute dread.

To stand there again, breathing and whole, and to be told the war was truly finished was almost more than their hearts could handle.

Happiness and sorrow intertwined until they were one. Tears fell freely, not merely for what was taken, but for what had been restored. People whispered apologies to the deceased who now stood beside them, vowing to never again waste the gift of life.

Others simply clung to one another in silence, terrified that speaking might break the spell of the miracle.

Suddenly, a shout rose from the masses.

"Max Morgan!"

Another voice joined in, louder and thick with passion.

"Max Morgan!"

Within seconds, the name spread like a wildfire. From the eastern territories to the western metropolises, from the northern peaks to the southern coastlines, the chant grew into a thunderous roar.

"Max Morgan!"

"Max Morgan!"

"Max Morgan!"

The name resonated through all five sectors of the continent, carried by both the wind and mana. Even in the far south, where Max had never walked and his reputation was but a whisper, people screamed his name until they were hoarse. They didn't need to witness his combat to understand his deeds. Their own lives were the only proof required.

To these people, Max was their champion. He was the figure who defied the Young Monarch when the world first tasted terror. He was the one who stayed when demons ravaged their homes and slaughtered without pity. Time and again, when darkness threatened to consume all, Max had appeared.

In their minds, the boundary between a hero and a god began to fade. Though Max might never claim such divinity, it was certain that in the days to come, the inhabitants of this world would view him as such.

At that moment, several figures streaked through the air to meet Max. King Magnar led the group, his royal attire shredded and filthy, his usually stoic expression twisted with disbelief.

He was accompanied by Knight Kate, James Garfield, and other prominent figures from the East and West, all of them wearing looks that shifted between hope and skepticism. They had witnessed too much horror to trust in miracles so easily.

"Is what you proclaimed the truth?" King Magnar inquired, his voice trembling despite his attempt at composure. "Is the victory truly ours?"

Max gave a calm nod. "It is. We have triumphed."

For a beat, King Magnar just stared, searching for any sign that this was a grand hallucination. Then, a new worry gripped him, and his face clouded with anxiety. "What of the young talents who were inside the Tower of Truth when the demons struck?" he asked urgently. "What happened to the children?"

Max offered a soft smile. Without a word, he lifted his hand and triggered one of the Life Space Rings. A distortion rippled through the air, and suddenly, dozens of individuals appeared in the sky. They were safe, bewildered, and very much alive.

"Royal Father!" Crown Prince Aelric yelled the moment he saw King Magnar. Tears poured down his face as he dove forward and hugged him with all his might.

Similar reunions broke out all around. Amelia stood frozen for a second before rushing toward her mother. Jack and Henry shared a mix of laughter and tears as they found their families.

Revenna pressed her hands to her mouth, shaking, before collapsing into her father’s embrace. Bruce stood still, staring at the familiar people around him as if they might disappear if he dared to blink.

They had been certain the Valora Continent was destroyed. They had believed their kin were gone forever. Seeing them alive shattered the sorrow they had carried since the slaughter, replacing it with a flood of joy. The air was thick with the sounds of laughter, weeping, and the calling of names that had recently been mourned.

Max observed the scene in silence, a small smile touching his lips. This had been among his sharpest pains—the regret of his absence while Valora burned and the belief that he had failed them. Witnessing these reunions healed a heavy wound in his spirit, a burden he had shouldered since the war’s inception.