Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Chapter 1841: Going Head-to-Head with RAKAN!

Max looked at the cracks radiating outward from Rakan’s step, and the faint smile on his face never wavered. If anything, his eyes grew brighter with interest.

"Good," he said. "That is exactly what I wanted to hear."

Rakan’s grin froze for an instant before stretching even wider. "You truly are insane."

Max slowly raised both hands and loosened his shoulders. Dragonheart remained in its sheath. The Emotion Severing Path did not appear, nor did the Divine King Punishment, nor the Heavenly Luminance Divine Bloodline. Not a single dragon scale covered his skin.

Only his body stood there, calm and prepared, and the sight alone made the blood of countless spectators run hot.

On the participant pillars, Damian Voss narrowed his eyes. "He genuinely intends to fight with his bare hands."

Orion Starfall smiled. "This is either arrogance or confidence."

Kaiden Voidmere replied evenly, "With Max, it may well be both."

Ervin kept his eyes fixed on the stage. "He wants to learn exactly where his body stands."

Revona glanced toward Rakan and then back toward Max. "That knowledge may cost him dearly."

Aurelian Lareth sneered faintly from his pillar. "Foolish."

Selene Vaeloria’s gaze turned cold. "He will suffer for that arrogance."

Morgana Starveil smiled with amusement, though her eyes were entirely serious. "Perhaps. But the people who dismiss him as merely arrogant usually live to regret it."

Angelina Valerius observed both fighters from her position above the stage. Her face remained composed, yet her eyes lingered on Max for a brief moment.

She had overseen countless battles, watched countless geniuses rise and fall, and judged countless varieties of pride. Some pride was hollow, and some pride was born of ignorance, but the pride Max carried resembled neither.

It felt like the pride of a man deliberately walking toward danger because he wanted to measure the height of the mountain with his own two hands.

Angelina raised her hand, and the arena barrier brightened.

[Battle Begins.]

Rakan’s grin vanished, and pure battle intent took its place. The first Warlord of the War God Palace sank slightly into his stance, drawing his fist back as the bronze aura around him condensed into a single terrifying point.

Max simply stood where he was with his body relaxed and his eyes calm.

Then Rakan moved.

The stage detonated beneath his feet, and his body shot forward like a bronze meteor, crossing the distance between them in a single instant. There was no elaborate movement technique behind it, no illusion, no distortion of any path, and no concealed trick.

It was raw physical speed born from a body refined to an abnormal degree. The air ahead of him compressed violently, and his fist ripped through it with a horrifying howl as it hurtled toward Max’s chest.

Max did not dodge. He stepped forward and threw a punch of his own.

Boom!

The two fists met head-on. A shockwave burst from the point of contact and swept across the central stage like an invisible storm. The dark gold stone beneath their feet fractured into circular patterns, and the transparent barrier enclosing the arena flared brightly as it absorbed the force rushing outward.

Something shifted in Rakan’s eyes. Max’s body had not been thrown backward, and his arm had not so much as trembled. He had taken Rakan’s punch directly and remained standing exactly where he was.

For a brief moment, the entire War God Palace grew quieter.

Inside the Eternal Hourglass, Rakan’s grin slowly returned. "Interesting."

Max shook out his wrist once and smiled faintly. "Is that all you have?"

Rakan laughed, and in the next instant his body blurred again. This time he threw three punches in rapid succession. The first was aimed at Max’s shoulder, the second at his ribs, and the third at his jaw.

Each strike carried enough power to shatter a divine mountain, yet Max answered with movements just as direct. He blocked the first punch with his forearm, met the second with his elbow, and tilted his head past the third by the narrowest of margins before driving his knee toward Rakan’s abdomen.

Rakan dropped his arm and caught the knee.

Boom!

Another impact rocked the arena, and Rakan slid back half a step. It was only half a step, but it was enough. The eyes of every participant sharpened at once, because Rakan Thorne, the first Warlord of the War God Palace, had just been pushed backward in a purely physical exchange.

Rakan glanced down at the faint mark his foot had carved into the stage, then looked back up at Max. His smile stretched far wider than before, and the battle intent in his eyes sank to a deeper level.

"You really do have the body to back up those words."

Max lowered his leg without hurry. "I told you. I wanted to test it."

Rakan’s shoulders shook with laughter. "Good. Very good. Most people who claim they want to test their bodies against mine are already sprawled on the ground after the first punch."

He charged forward again, and the two of them collided at the center of the stage.

This time they did not trade only one or two blows. Their fists, elbows, knees, shoulders, and palms crashed together in relentless succession, and every collision produced a dull peal of thunder that made the stage tremble.

Rakan’s attacks were savage and wild, yet never careless. Every punch carried years of battlefield refinement, every step cut off one of Max’s possible retreats, and every roll of his shoulders concealed the seed of another strike.

Max answered with nothing but physical skill. His punches were direct, his footwork was stable, and his reactions were frighteningly sharp. Rakan’s blows fell like war hammers, but Max either met them head-on or shifted just enough to let their force slide harmlessly past before striking back.

His body lacked the visible oppressiveness of Rakan’s, yet the strength packed inside it was compact and dense and absurdly steady.

Boom!

Rakan’s fist hammered into Max’s forearm. Max rotated his wrist and drove a punch into Rakan’s chest. Rakan blocked it with his palm, but the force still bent his upper body slightly backward. Rakan surged forward and slammed his shoulder toward Max, and Max met him shoulder against shoulder.

The air between them burst apart, and both fighters took a single step back.

For the first time since the battle had begun, the grin on Rakan’s face dimmed, and he stared at Max with complete seriousness.

On the participant pillars, the reactions grew far more intense. Rakan was no longer playing around, and yet Max was still standing his ground.