Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100-Chapter 551: Crimson Entrapment

Max stood unmoving as the stampede of thirty shadow warriors rushed at him, their weapons raised high, blades glinting with eerie brilliance, each one cloaked in their own twisted manifestations of concept-based energy.

Their footsteps thundered across the arena, closing in fast like an inevitable storm.

But Max... he didn’t flinch. He simply closed his eyes.

Within him, his Three Dimensional Body expanded its awareness, painting the battlefield with flawless detail. Every angle, every movement, every shift in momentum became a point in his mind.

At the same time, the Crimson Reaper inheritance surged through his veins, but unlike the raging fire of the Flame Tyrant or the oppressive might of the Black Sun, this power made no sound. No blaze flickered. No heat rippled. It was still—ominously still.

From the outside, Max looked defenseless. Not a single ember of black flames hovered around his body. Not a spark danced at his fingertips. But inside him, the world churned.

And then—they struck.

Thirty attacks launched from thirty different angles. Energy-infused weapons sliced toward him, skills screamed through the air, bursts of pure elemental fury converged on the single figure standing perfectly calm in the middle of the chaos.

That was the moment it happened.

BOOM.

A silent wave of pressure exploded from Max’s body—not of brute force, but of utter dominance.

The rushing concepts shattered midair. Swords froze inches from his face. Arrows dissolved into ash.

A thunderous pulse rolled through the arena, and in that moment, all thirty shadow warriors were instantly engulfed—trapped inside black flaming spheres, each one suspended in the air like a captured thought.

The spheres pulsed, dark as the void, flickering with runes now became the only things floated in the arena around all around Max.

Inside each sphere, the warriors thrashed violently, their weapons colliding with the walls of black flame, but to no effect. The spheres reacted with subtle hums, tightening with every strike they absorbed.

Max opened his eyes slowly.

"This... is Crimson Entrapment ," he whispered.

It wasn’t fire, not in the way others knew it. It was reaper’s fire—a manifestation of control, of suppression. A force that didn’t seek to burn, but to contain, to judge. A power that devoured strength at the root.

’This Crimson Entrapment combined with the omniscient view of the Three Dimensional Body is an even greater force than the true Crimson Reaper inheritance ever intended,’ Max thought, a quiet awe simmering behind his calm eyes. He hadn’t just used the inheritance—he had reshaped it, elevated it.

The original Crimson Reaper Inheritance demanded proximity, demanded that the user first establish a tangible or flame-based connection with their target before activating the entrapment.

Without that prerequisite link—often created through a clash of attacks or a binding with flame—it was impossible to trigger the black flaming spheres effectively. That limitation was written into the inheritance’s very foundation, a balance between offense and control.

But for Max, that limitation simply didn’t exist.

His Three Dimensional Body rendered all such rules obsolete. He was connected to everything—every particle, every movement, every breath within the battlefield.

His awareness extended in layers beyond the physical, allowing him to feel the presence of each enemy not as silhouettes or blurs of movement, but as distinct threads in a web of reality he could pull tight at will.

The moment the shadow warriors stepped into his awareness, they were already caught. There was no need for flame to make contact. No need for build-up. No need for visual confirmation.

Where the Crimson Reaper demanded touch, Max merely needed thought.

’It’s like the entire battlefield is an extension of my body,’ he mused, glancing at his hands as faint strands of black flame flickered between his fingers before vanishing. ’If I want, I could trap a hundred enemies without lifting a finger.’

It was not arrogance. It was truth.

The fusion of the Crimson Reaper and the Three Dimensional Body had created something entirely new—Crimson Entrapment, born not of sequential understanding but of layered mastery.

A technique that turned the battlefield into a realm of silent judgment. A domain where every enemy was already marked.

’Time to finish them.’ Max thought.

The spheres pulsed once more—and collapsed inward with a silent implosion, vanishing like dying stars. And with that the shadow warriors disappeared.

No ashes. No remains. Just silence.

Max exhaled softly. "Fifth floor... cleared."

There was a brief moment of calm, a still breath hanging in the air like the pause before a storm, before the distant flutter of wings cut through the silence.

A familiar creature, draped in molten-black feathers and eyes gleaming with crimson embers, descended through the sky. In its claws, as always, was a stone tablet etched in burning gold.

It hovered before Max, its wings beating slow, ominous pulses as he reached out and read the inscribed words.

"Challenger, you have proven yourself worthy to be called a true genius, but can you take that one step further? Can you set foot upon the legendary last three floors? It will all be decided now. After you finish reading this message, a total of seventy shadow warriors shall descend onto the arena. Defeat them all—and only then shall the path to the last three floors open."

Max let out a short exhale, almost a chuckle, as a slow smile crept onto his face. "So it’s time for the final test of endurance..."

The creature let out a sharp screech, then vanished in a streak of black light, taking the tablet with it. And as if that was the cue, the ground began to tremble—softly at first, then stronger with every second—as dark figures began phasing into reality from all directions.

One. Two. Ten. Twenty...

More and more emerged until seventy obsidian-shadowed warriors stood tall across the vast arena, surrounding Max like a tightening noose. They radiated the same strength as before—each equal to Max in realm—but this time, they weren’t scattered or mindless.

They moved with formation.

They moved with coordination.

They moved like an army.

Max slowly turned in place, scanning the encroaching horde with calm, focused eyes. His breathing remained steady, his posture relaxed but alert.

Seventy enemies. Seventy weapons drawn. Seventy killing intents converging on a single target.

Max’s fingers curled into fists.

"Alright then," he whispered, eyes gleaming with intent. "Let’s get this over with."

"Emperor’s Domain," Max whispered, and at once the air responded to his voice like a loyal servant to its sovereign. Black flames surged to life, not with wild fury but with solemn authority.

They coiled around his body in silent reverence, flickering around his shoulders before rising above his head, condensing into the form of a regal, flaming crown.

A heartbeat later, the sky above the arena responded in kind—darkness rippled, and from that swirling void a titanic crown formed high above, crafted entirely from black fire, suspended in the heavens like a divine emblem of dominion.

And then, the assault began.

From all sides, the shadow warriors charged—dozens of them, their white eyes glowing eerily, weapons poised to strike. Their movements were silent but relentless, each one cloaked in concept energy, each strike meant to kill.

The ground quaked beneath their unified steps as they surged toward Max in a coordinated wave of violence.

Max didn’t flinch.

He didn’t retreat.

Instead, he lifted his chin, met the tide of darkness with calm, and spoke again.

"Emperor’s Judgment."