Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 - Chapter 125: A Blob of Slime

Crimson Vale Academy—where reputation is currency, and failure is a stain you wear on your sleeve.Behind gothic walls and spotless uniforms, students aren't just educated—they're measured, ranked, and pitted against each other in a brutal meritocracy. Privileges are earned, not given. The strong rise. The weak vanish.Enter Kairon Vale, a transfer student marked Rank D—the bottom of the bottom. No badge. Just a stitched black fang, branding him as “Obsidian”—a warning to others.In a system where points dictate your value, Obsidian-ranked students claw for every opportunity to ascend into the prestigious Golden or Platinum ranks—where comfort, power, and influence await. But for most, it’s a losing battle.Yet Kairon isn’t here to fit in, impress, or play by their rules. Cold, calculating, and impossible to read, he watches the system… and waits. Because while the academy judges worth by numbers and names—he understands something deeper:Everyone wears a mask. And every mask can be cracked.Let the games begin.

“ You must level down to the rock bottom of hell”, a demonic voice said when he was summoned to the other side.

Seth Johnson was 16 when he was sacrificed in a cleansing ritual organized by his parent’s cult, to find himself reincarnated and transmigrated to a new world that was already on the brink of extinction.

People were divided by their magic power’s ranking to live in different regions and sat on ascending levels in the sky.

Being born again as Isiah Duncan, the brother of Lucas Duncan the prodigy who brought the apocalypse to this world was confusing to him, he who had no powers to survive, until he was forced to level down instead of leveling up, using the diabolic core of magic instead of the divine one …

How long I’d been here, I couldn’t quite recall. From this sorry situation, I as always raised my eyes to the sky; a sky in which the great, massive sun was clad in levity. Sunlight poured gently upon all. What a blessing it would have been for the world if only the skies could remain clear. For tomorrow too, and for all days to come, I was to continue to pray for calm. To endure for those who cried, with desperation I remained in prayer.

And then, one freezing, forlorn, soulless, stagnant, drizzly day we died. Or so I thought…

In the end-French era, after countless calamities, the era of cultivation is coming to an end. The last combination of air transportation and evolution has evolved into the treasure board, which was obtained by the last practitioner in the end-French era, which opened up a legend of wandering heavens.

- Description from Uukanshu