Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100-Chapter 211: One against two?

"Hahahaha!"

Laughter erupted from Max’s lips—loud, wild, unhinged.

His shoulders shook, his head tilting back as he clutched his stomach.

It wasn’t just laughter—

It was the kind that sent chills down spines.

The kind that made people uneasy.

The crowd shifted. Some instinctively took a step back.

To Max—

A peaceful year if he won. A death sentence if he lost.

It was funny.

Not because of the stakes.

But because—

The Young Monarch was no god.

Who did he think he was to impose a sentence on him?

"Hehe, this is really funny."

Max mused, amusement flickering in his eyes.

The blue-haired young man narrowed his gaze. Watching. Studying.

There was no fear in Max—only mockery.

Max wiped the corner of his eye, his grin still in place.

"You expect me to be grateful? To celebrate the fact that if I win, I get to live ’peacefully’ for a year, and if I lose, I die?"

His voice dropped, his smirk twisting into something darker.

"What kind of joke is that?"

The laughter faded.

And in its place—

An oppressive aura exploded from Max.

His gaze locked onto the blue-haired man—

Sharp. Unyielding. Merciless.

"I don’t need your damn mercy. And I sure as hell don’t need a year of borrowed time."

He took a step forward—

The space around him chilled.

"If I win, I don’t just want peace."

His aura surged—

"I want your entire Monarch to understand one thing—"

A cold, merciless light gleamed in his eyes.

"If they come for me... They better be ready to die. I will kill however many they send."

He glanced at the five young Monarch elites, his expression turning cruel.

"As for you five, If I win… only one of you is going back."

The air froze.

Max’s voice was like a blade, cutting through the tension.

"One of you will return to the Young Monarch… to tell him that I am not someone whose life and death he can decide."

He passed.

"And I sure as hell am not someone you can afford to play this battle of life and death with."

The blue-haired young man smiled.

But his expression darkened.

"I see… But you don’t seem to understand two things here."

His voice dropped, cold and absolute.

"First, you are simply too weak against me. Second, I won’t give you a chance. Our battle will only end in your death."

A grin stretched across his face—

Not of amusement, but of certainty.

"So, it doesn’t matter what you want or don’t want."

His gaze locked onto Max, sharp and unshaken.

"What does matter… is whether you’re willing to take this opportunity or not?"

Max shrugged, his expression indifferent.

"If you’re all so eager to die, then it doesn’t matter if I fight or not."

Then—

His eyes narrowed, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"But… you’ll have to wait your turn."

The blue-haired young man frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Max casually gestured toward Harry and Lyla.

"You’re a bit too late. I already decided to fight them first."

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Understanding flashed in the young man’s eyes before his expression twisted into a sneer.

"I see… but I’m a very patient man when it comes to things like this."

Max smirked.

"Well then, wait a little."

Max sneered, his smirk deepening as he turned to Harry and Lyla.

"Are you two ready?"

They both nodded, but before they could speak—

Aurelia stepped in.

"Give us a moment, would you?"

Harry and Lyla exchanged glances, then simply shrugged.

Aurelia didn’t wait.

She turned to Max, her expression unreadable.

"Follow me."

Max raised a brow but didn’t argue.

With a casual shrug, he followed her—

To a secluded part of the Villa, where no one else could see them.

Aurelia frowned, her arms crossed.

"Are you really going to fight them? This might be a trap, considering what the Young Monarch warned me about last time."

Max met her gaze—calm, unwavering.

"I’m going to fight them."

Then—

His voice dropped, his words laced with cold finality.

"And I’m going to kill them."

Aurelia’s frown deepened.

"Let’s say you win against that guy… but killing them?"

Her voice edged with concern.

"Isn’t that going too far? You could start a war if you do that."

Max’s eyes narrowed, his voice firm. Unwavering.

"You can’t change my mind."

He said solemnly.

"The Monarch. The Young Monarch. Do they think I’m a pushover? Do they think they have control over my life?"

His lips curled into a sneer.

"No. They don’t. They don’t have anything over me."

He chuckled. Continue your adventure with novelbuddy

"They can scheme. They can send their lackeys. They can dangle this so-called deal in front of me like it’s some kind of mercy."

His smirk widened, cold and sharp.

"But the truth is—they’re the ones afraid."

He took a step forward, his presence pressing down like an invisible weight.

"Afraid of what I’ll become. Afraid that I won’t kneel. Afraid that someday, I’ll be a force they can’t control."

His voice turned solemn, yet resolute.

"And I’d like to keep it that way."

He exhaled, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light.

"If they want to give me an ’opportunity’—a thread where one side leads to death—then I’ll do the same."

His face turned cold.

"They think they’re pulling the strings. But they don’t realize—

I have already cut the threads, their life threads that is."

With those final words, Max stormed out of the Villa.

Aurelia stood there for a moment, her expression full of frown.

’I guess this is fate then...’

Before she followed him out.

The moment he stepped outside—

A familiar sneer greeted him.

"Oh? You actually came back. Here I thought you ran away."

The blue-haired man stood tall, amusement flickering in his eyes.

Max barely spared him a glance.

Then, his gaze sharpened.

"What’s your name again?"

Devin chuckled, crossing his arms.

"Heh. I suppose you deserve to know."

He tilted his head slightly, a smug grin stretching across his face.

"I am Devin Leyland."

Max nodded once.

"Devin Leyland…"

His attention shifted—this time to Envoy Lucas.

"Are they ready?"

Lucas smiled, nodding.

"They are indeed ready. But are you sure you want to fight them now?"

His tone carried genuine curiosity.

"I can postpone your battle with Harry and Lyla to another day—seeing as you have… bigger matters at hand."

Max followed his gaze.

To Devin.

To the five Monarch elites standing behind him.

Then—

A sneer curled on Max’s lips.

"Them?"

He gestured at the five.

"Let me tell you something, Envoy Lucas."

His smirk deepened.

"They’re here just to die.

So whether I make them wait for their deaths or not—

It really doesn’t matter."

Envoy Lucas let out a wry laugh, shaking his head.

"So, who will be first?"

Max grinned.

"Send them both at the same time."

The moment the words left his mouth—

Lyla exploded.

"You want to fight both of us at once? Have you gone mad?!"

Max shrugged, completely unfazed.

"Fighting one of you, then the other… it’d take too long. And honestly—"

He gestured toward the five Monarch elites, his smirk deepening.

"I don’t have time for that."

Lyla’s eyes flashed with anger.

But Max wasn’t done.

"Besides…" His tone was light, almost casual. "I think I can handle the two of you just fine."

He smiled. Calm. Confident.

Then—

His gaze locked onto Harry and Lyla, a challenge clear in his eyes.

"So, how about it? Are you two ready to trade blows with me?"