Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 Chapter 1352 Craze!

A calm smile played on Max's lips as he faced Raymond, the final remnants of poison in his veins utterly banished by the might of his Heavenly Luminance Royal Bloodline, that luminous force renewing him with a pure vitality as though the ordeal had never taken place.

Right then, azure lightning burst forth encircling his form, and prior to Raymond grasping the motion at all, Max materialized directly before him, his velocity so staggering that Raymond caught only a momentary gleam of blue radiance.

Once his sight cleared, Max's blade lay lightly upon his throat, its icy sharpness conveying a lethal warning while Max conveyed his words straight into Raymond's thoughts via essence transmission.

"Who ordered you to take my life?" Max inquired steadily, his voice laced with frost even in its subdued delivery. "I could end you at any moment, and the Divine Colosseum wouldn't lift a finger to stop it. Actually, they'd gladly exploit your demise to hype up my remaining fights, so you'd better speak the truth unless you're eager to test that claim."

Beads of icy sweat sprang up on Raymond's brow as terror gripped him, for he grasped the Divine Colosseum's regulations all too intimately. Under usual circumstances, slaying an opponent mid-bout was forbidden, with death duels confined to those who'd dropped all three contests in one day, pitting them against fellow unfortunates in dire straits.

Yet exceptions always lurked in the shadows, and Max evidently qualified as one. Should Max decide to strike him down right there, the Divine Colosseum would overlook it entirely, exactly as he'd stated, since dramatic violence only boosted their appeal. Confronted by this harsh truth, Raymond realized deception would merely speed his doom.

"The Heron Family commanded me to eliminate you," Raymond admitted through gritted teeth, his words trembling even as he strived for poise. "They vowed to grant me my liberty in return for your head."

"Understood," Max responded softly, his features hardening as the revelation sank deep into his awareness.

It all clicked for him in that instant, since spurning the Heron Family's overture had branded him an unpredictable danger in their eyes. Should he press on with his combats, topple all ten foes, and at last confront the Grim Gladiator, victory—and thus his release—loomed as a genuine prospect.

After such an outcome, dispatching him would prove far trickier, and even more troubling, the remaining six premier clans of the Black Dragon Palace could turn their ambitions toward him. Viewed through the Heron Family's lens, snuffing him out prematurely stood as the most secure choice.

"Heron Family," Max scoffed silently to himself, etching their title into his resolve with a quiet vow. In silence, he sheathed his sword and unleashed a measured surge of power, slamming into Raymond and hurling him beyond the arena's bounds to smash against the spectator tiers.

Max refrained from slaying him, viewing Raymond as mere fodder manipulated by the Heron Family, whose death would yield no true fulfillment.

As Raymond soared from the arena, the Divine Colosseum hung in a stunned hush for one fleeting moment, before erupting into pandemonium as the audience surrendered to frenzy, their shouts merging into a thunderous wave of astonishment and thrill.

"Did you catch that? Raymond couldn't mount any real defense—this is unbelievable," a man bellowed, leaping up with his cheeks burning from exhilaration.

"Raymond was a colosseum icon, the guy who'd claimed ten wins and still challenged Max, only to crumble like this," another cried out, his voice brimming with awe that teetered on worship.

"That velocity was horrifying—I missed Max's approach entirely; one second Raymond stood firm, the next he was tumbling out," a voice hollered, fingers white-knuckled on the barrier as if anchoring against the shock.

"This isn't fighting anymore; it's a slaughter—Max operates on an entirely superior plane," yet another fan yelled, their words pulsing with unbridled fervor.

"Hahaha, kicking off the day with Max's clashes was genius; this place will be in uproar by nightfall," a spectator guffawed, struggling to hold back his glee.

The roars swelled ever higher, morphing into wild incantations as Max's name reverberated anew through the Divine Colosseum, the fervor hitting a scorching peak while all grasped they beheld an event destined for eternal legend.

"I believe they're exaggerating just a tad," Max grumbled with a resigned breath amid the relentless uproar filling the Divine Colosseum, for to him, toppling Raymond merited no such uproar.

In his view, it amounted to yet another swift skirmish, but the throng acted like he'd achieved some world-altering feat.

What escaped Max's full grasp was the immense stature of figures like Raymond and Dean in the Divine Colosseum. Far from mere combatants, they were icons whose mere presence lured crowds from remote worlds across the Verdant Sky Realm, since they seldom graced the sands, and each outing sparked grand spectacles.

Through the years, they'd evolved into stars of their domain, emblems of dominance and glory within the arena, drawing visitors keen not only on general scraps but precisely on their showdowns.

Watching such mythic titans topple with such casual dominance under Max's hand demolished the assumptions of myriad onlookers, and that jolt fueled their descent into hysteria.

For the masses, it transcended a simple triumph; it signaled the crumbling of entrenched notions about might and rank in the Divine Colosseum, explaining their near-deranged zeal as they perceived the emergence of a fresh, unstoppable force.

The day's ensuing pair of bouts arrived shortly, mirroring the opener in their lack of true tension, as Max overpowered his rivals with the effortless supremacy now routine for him.

Every clash proved short and conclusive, the arena once more under his unchallenged sway while the spectators burst forth time and again, their ardor unquenched despite repeated displays of the same dominance.

Yet what puzzled Max was the absence of lethal intent from those final two fighters, their strikes free of the covert venom he'd detected in Raymond.

No tainted blades, no cunning ploys, no wild bids for killing blows appeared, clashing starkly with his forecasts following the Heron Family's exposure.

Thus assured of a key truth, Max strode serenely from the arena post his concluding bout: the upcoming trio of adversaries wouldn't merely seek to battle him—they'd arrive intent on claiming his life.