Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 Chapter 1405 Temptation of Peace!

"I should sit here all day," Max whispered under his breath while his eyelids drooped heavily, his breaths turning deep and rhythmic, as if the heavy load he'd borne for ages had at last released its tight hold on him.

The instant his eyes shut, that relentless strain shadowing him since his rise to power began to dissolve completely. No rush, no threats, no plotting against rivals or planning for wars ahead remained.

For the first time after entering the Divine Realm, a profound calm washed over Max, one so intense it nearly unnerved him. This wasn't the short-lived quiet of security or the thrill of triumph, but a deeper stillness, as if it was part of the universe's very core.

He'd never known such tranquility before, not in the hushed times of his previous existence or amid his lone cultivation practices.

As relaxation took hold, his mind started to wander softly. It didn't plunge or disperse, but eased downward, similar to a feather settling on calm waters. His perception delved further into the linked dimensions, not watching them with focus or goal, but merely being part of them.

The Dimension of Flames pulsed lazily, warm and stable, its blazes now soothing rather than fierce, like a cozy fire inviting him back. The Dimension of Lightning buzzed gently, its tempests easing into endless seas of glowing electricity that hummed in sync with his mind instead of raging.

Time expanded around him freely, without any strain. He sensed instants lengthening and shortening, but no worry came with it. Space shed its vast separations and purpose, turning into a soft expanse, not a barrier to traverse or master. Ice shifted from representing frozen demise to embodying sharpness and safeguarding, while the void stopped feeling barren, unveiling instead as endless possibilities hushed in wait.

Gradually, Max lost track of the boundary between himself and the dimensions. His mind quieted more, his identity fading as he floated deeper into the woven realms.

He ceased being just a cultivator perched on a throne amid gateways. Instead, he became a essence spread across endless worlds, connecting with them effortlessly and without pushback. The weights of drive, strife, and fate receded into the distance, giving way to a soft perception that stretched forever.

In that instant, Max chased neither strength nor insight. He just was, hovering in the immense realm of dimensions, steadily dissolving into a peace so vast that time itself hesitated to interrupt.

"Wake up…"

Right as Max teetered on the edge of endless slumber, a soft call grazed his awareness. It sounded far-off, barely real, like a faint wave across a mirror-smooth pond.

This intrusion annoyed him deeply.

Even at this point, something was contacting him. Even now, it was shattering the calm he'd only just discovered.

"Wake up!"

The call rang out stronger, slicing into the quiet enveloping his thoughts. A surge of defiance built inside Max. He refused to reply. He didn't wish to depart from here.

The dimensional realm had offered what he'd pursued across endless fights, ends, and renewals. It had provided peace. Not the breakable sort that crumbled under force, but an all-encompassing ease that demanded nothing from him.

"Wake the fuck up!"

The yell exploded in his head like a bolt from the blue.

Max flinched. The serenity quivered, fissures forming as bewilderment and annoyance seeped through. He felt divided, tugged between the silent depths he was entering and the sharp demand of the voice yanking him away.

"Who?" Max grumbled at last, his response thick and sluggish, like hauling it from profound depths. His eyes parted with reluctance, the peace still lingering even as the real world started filtering back.

The view before him jolted his mind.

There stood his own likeness.

This other Max appeared wild-eyed, his face contorted in panic and dread, far from the ease Max had left behind. He bellowed, his tone rough and pleading, arms already extending toward him.

"Wake up. Wake up, Max!"

The image broke through the last shreds of Max's composure. His thoughts spun, grappling to make sense of the vision.

"What are you doing?" he questioned, his tone flat and scattered, as if the phrase came from another. He couldn't grasp why his duplicate was present, why this echo of himself was so frantic to drag him from the throne, from the sole spot that had ever seemed perfectly suited.

The bewilderment swelled into turmoil. Part of him yearned to retreat into the hush, to seal his eyes once more and allow all to dissolve. Yet another portion, stirred by the terror carved on his counterpart's features, sensed a rising alarm, a signal that grave peril loomed.

Before the duplicate Max could respond, he moved.

With full force, he seized Max and hauled him roughly from the throne. The abrupt pull shredded through Max's perceptions, wrenching him free from the dimensions' soft draw.

The tranquility crumbled utterly, shattering like a vision ripped apart upon awakening, leaving only confusion and the faint trace of what he'd nearly surrendered to forever.

In that split second, Max's awareness realigned sharply, merging back with his duplicate, and the reality crashed over him with chilling sharpness.

"Damn it, this throne is a veil trap," Max swore out loud, glaring at the vacant chair ahead, his words laced with uncommon fury.

From the recollections his duplicate passed on, Max grasped what had unfolded. The second he settled onto the throne and let himself merge with the dimensional realm, the bond linking him to his duplicate had snapped.

That shouldn't have been feasible on its own. Max and his duplicate weren't bound by a mere psychic tie. They formed one mind across two forms. Nothing outside should have severed that unity, but the throne had managed it.

With the bond cut, nothing tethered Max to the tangible world any longer. Absent any outside disruption or mutual sense to draw him out, his awareness had slipped ever further into the dimensional expanse.

What he'd mistaken for peace wasn't recovery. It was a gradual fading. A soft descent into an entity that would bar his return eternally.

As Max reflected on that phase—the serenity, the lack of weight, the intense pull to stay indefinitely—a shiver traced his back. The truth terrified him. That calm wasn't a boon. It was bait. A hush so flawless it wiped out any urge to rouse.

"If my clone hadn't dragged me back," Max murmured softly, eyes fixed on the throne, "I'd have slipped into endless rest right with it."

The idea hung thick in his thoughts. The throne wasn't simply an emblem of rule or a channel for command. It served as a trial, or maybe a sieve, assessing if the Dimensional Keeper held the resolve to stay vigilant amid total peace.

Max breathed out steadily, his face grave. He now saw that might at this tier didn't always strike through ruin or conquest. At times, the deadliest threat was the urge to surrender.