Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

"I would like to have some words with the geniuses of the South Region."

The masked figure's voice was calm, composed, but slightly hoarse—a subtle distortion, deliberately altered.

A calculated move.

A voice that was unrecognizable, ensuring no one would connect it to the name "Max."

Because if they did, things would get complicated.

Crown Prince Aelric's frown deepened.

His sharp, analytical mind immediately began assessing the situation.

Just moments ago, he had successfully de-escalated the situation with the South Region's geniuses. He had convinced Arthur to step down—even if it was only a temporary retreat.

But now—

Someone had just appeared out of nowhere, inserting themselves into the confrontation with deliberate intent.

Someone unknown.

Someone masked.

And most concerning of all—someone whose aura was completely unreadable.

Aelric's gaze sharpened as he tried to sense the masked figure's strength.

Nothing.

That wasn't normal.

Even with the most advanced concealment techniques, a warrior's general presence could always be vaguely sensed—whether they were stronger or weaker, whether they were dangerous or insignificant.

But this person?

He felt nothing distinct.

No sharp spikes of energy.

No fluctuating power waves.

It was like trying to grasp fog with his hands—a presence that seemed to hover at the Peak of Adept Rank but then falling as low as Apprentice Rank.

That in itself was unnerving.

Who is he?

And more importantly—why is he here?

Crown Prince Aelric kept his expression composed, but there was a sharp edge to his gaze as he addressed the masked intruder.

"Dear guest, don't cause any trouble here."

His voice remained polite, but there was an unmistakable authority behind it. Aelric wasn't merely requesting—he was subtly warning.

The Sun Palace was under his jurisdiction, and he wasn't about to let a nameless figure in a mask disrupt its peace.

The masked figure—Max—slowly turned his head, his movements measured and calm.

His gaze, though hidden behind the featureless blue mask, locked onto Aelric for a brief moment.

Then, in a voice steady and unaffected, he spoke.

"I will make sure I don't cause any trouble."

Aelric studied him for a moment longer, as if trying to gauge his sincerity.

Then, he gave a small, diplomatic smile and nodded.

Satisfied—at least on the surface.

But before he could move away, Max turned back to the South Region group—

And then, he smirked.

A slow, deliberate sneer—one that carried nothing but mockery.

And then, in a tone dripping with sarcasm and disdain, he spoke words that shattered the garden's silence.

"I have heard a lot of things about the South Region."

His voice was loud enough for everyone to hear—intentional, calculated.

Every guests in the vicinity turned their attention back to him, their curiosity instantly rekindled.

And then—

He delivered the blow.

"They say the so-called geniuses there are the trash of all trash. So weak that not a single one of them could survive an attack against an opponent of the same level."

Silence.

Pure, stunned silence.

Eyes widened.

Breaths caught.

Even the wind seemed to still, as if nature itself had paused to register what had just been said.

Princess Aveline's mouth fell open slightly, her usual composure breaking as she stared in absolute disbelief.

Alice froze, her expression stuck somewhere between shock and barely-contained amusement.

Even Crown Prince Aelric, who had just acknowledged the masked figure's promise of "not causing trouble," was left utterly speechless.

Did this man just… say that? Out loud?

But Max wasn't finished.

Not even close.

Max took a slow step forward, his posture relaxed yet dominating as he addressed Arthur, Nathan, Tom, and the other South Region elites.

His tone remained smooth, casual—as if he were simply discussing an interesting rumor.

"They also say that everyone in the South is just talk."

Another pause.

A sharp, tangible shift in the air.

Every member of the South Region's group stiffened, their expressions turning dark with rage.

Nathan's hands clenched into fists, his face already flushing with anger.

Tom's usual cocky smirk vanished, his lips pressing into a thin, tight line.

And Arthur—

Arthur's eyes burned with barely contained fury.

But Max wasn't done mocking them.

He tilted his head slightly, as if genuinely curious, before delivering the final provocation.

"Tell me something, are these claims true?"

His words hung in the air, sharp like the edge of a blade.

Then—

His tone dropped an octave, filled with open scorn.

"Because I am genuinely curious… If your so-called geniuses are really just weaklings, why do you bother picking fights with other groups?"

A pause.

Then—

He grinned, the sneer beneath his mask practically visible in the way his voice dripped with contempt.

"I alone can handle all of you pieces of trash."

If the garden had been silent before, it exploded now.

Gasps rang out.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, the tension reaching a fever pitch.

"Did he just… insult the entire South Region?"

"Not just insult… he outright called their geniuses trash!"

"Hah! This is getting interesting. Who the hell is this guy? He's got guts."

"He's insane! Is he trying to start a war?"

Princess Aveline blinked repeatedly, trying to process what just happened.

Alice, despite herself, let out a small, choked laugh, quickly covering her mouth as if horrified by her own reaction.

Crown Prince Aelric, meanwhile, closed his eyes briefly.

A headache.

He had just asked the masked figure to not cause trouble.

And now?

Now, he had declared war with words in the most blatant and public way possible.

But the most violent reaction came from—

The South Region's geniuses.

Arthur's eyes twitched, his aura surging.

Nathan's rage was nearly uncontrollable, his entire body shaking with fury.

Tom stepped forward, his voice sharp with anger.

"You bastard! You think we'll just take that insult?"

Max merely tilted his head, as if considering the words.

Then, he chuckled.

"That depends. Do you plan to prove me wrong?"

A simple statement.

Yet, it was the final push.

Arthur exhaled sharply, then—smirked.

It wasn't an expression of amusement.

It was the kind of smirk that preceded violence.

Every word Max spoke was like a dagger piercing the hearts of the South Region's geniuses.

It wasn't just an insult—it was a challenge to their very existence.

Their pride.

Their legacy.

The South Region had always been known for its unyielding arrogance and unruly attitude.

They were lawless. They feared nothing.

And now—

Here stood a masked stranger, brazenly mocking them in front of everyone, tearing down their prestige with nothing but words.

Their world tilted, their pride shattered—and their rage ignited.

Then—

Arthur snapped.

His face twisted with fury, his aura surging like a violent storm as his teeth gritted together.

"How dare you speak so foul about the South?!"

His voice boomed across the garden, raw with anger.

Then—his eyes turned cold.

Dangerous.

"I will show you the true level of a South Region genius!"

And with those words—

He moved.

His body dissolved into a thick mist, his form vanishing into the air, dispersing into an ethereal vapor that spread out in an instant.

The mist rushed toward Max, moving like a phantom, as if ready to swallow him whole.

Arthur was fully intent on teaching this masked fool a painful lesson.

But just before the mist could reach Max—