Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

422: A Deadly Trial

422: A Deadly Trial

Then suddenly, a sharp voice cut through the stillness.

“Look!

Max Voidwalker’s name just appeared—ninth line!” a demon expert shouted, pointing at the monolith with a clawed hand, eyes wide.

Dozens of heads whipped around as a glowing name emerged near the base of the list—Max Voidwalker, inscribed clearly in brilliant white-blue light on the ninth line.

A ripple of murmurs followed, but before any opinions could be voiced, the name flickered once and then—vanished.

Gasps filled the space.

A second later, it reappeared—this time on the eighth line.

The reaction was immediate, and silence fell again.

And then it moved again, floating smoothly up to the seventh line, glowing even brighter.

The experts exchanged uneasy glances.

Something was happening.

Moments later, Max’s name ascended once more, this time reaching the sixth line, and then it stopped.

The glow pulsed gently as it settled there, like a heartbeat slowing to a steady rhythm.

The silence returned, but it was different now—charged, heavy with speculation.

A sixth-line talent.

Not just impressive—it was exceptional.

While not as staggering as Alice’s second-line placement, the fact that another human, especially one from the foreign Valora Continent, had scored so high was enough to shake the confidence of even the proudest demon and the most aloof elf.

Most importantly they understood that the assessment had yet to be completed and his name would only ascend higher in the line from now on.

—

“I’m starting to understand it…” Max muttered unconsciously, his voice barely more than a whisper as his consciousness drifted deeper into the vast, boundless current of the Concept of Space.

His thoughts no longer felt like thoughts—they were instincts, truths being engraved directly into his soul.

Everything else faded: the tower, the outside world, even the passage of time.

There was only this.

Space.

Boundless, ever-shifting, untouchable… and yet now, it began to make sense.

“The first level for the Concept of Space… is Dimensional Severance,” Max murmured, the knowledge seeping into him like water into dry earth.

“After comprehending the first level… I can tear space itself, create spatial rifts, or strike with attacks that bypass all physical and elemental defenses.”

The clarity of it was startling.

The very fabric of reality could become his weapon.

“Torn open spaces… aren’t just for escape or defense.

They can block anything.

They can be formed into a blade, a weapon of sheer dimensional force and hurled like any other strike—except impossible to block, impossible to anticipate.” His voice, though quiet, carried the weight of realization, of comprehension as his mind sharpened further.

As those words left his lips, his eyes slowly opened—only to find himself no longer standing in the familiar glowing void he had entered.

Everything around him had shifted.

He now stood in a vast, bluish world—surreal, weightless, and humming with a low, cosmic hum, as though reality itself was vibrating at a frequency his body could now feel.

The air shimmered, and strange distortions danced in the distance.

‘Am I… inside the Monolith of Space?’ he thought, blinking slowly as he observed the strange realm.

But before he could ponder it further, a flicker of movement caught the edge of his Three Dimensional Body—something that felt wrong.

Max’s body moved instinctively, twisting at the last possible second, bending sideways just as something invisible and terrifyingly fast slashed past his head.

RIPPP—

The air beside him howled as a jagged, black tear in space—a literal crack in reality—ripped open and shot past him, vanishing into the distance as quickly as it had appeared.

Max stumbled back, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“What the hell?!” he gasped, adrenaline flooding his veins.

He turned to see the faint residue of the rift shimmering in the air before it dissolved entirely.

But before Max could even draw a single breath of relief, his Three Dimensional Body flared with alarm—an overwhelming, primal warning that sent shivers down his spine.

Every nerve in his body screamed at him to move, to escape, to run.

He spun around instinctively, and what he saw made his blood freeze.

Hundreds—hundreds—of massive spatial tears, each one the size of his entire body, were ripping through the air toward him.

Jagged and violent, they tore through the bluish void with a howling screech, their edges fracturing reality itself as they surged forward with terrifying speed.

It wasn’t just one or two—it was a storm.

“Damn!” Max cursed, his eyes wide, and without wasting another second, he kicked off the air and launched himself into flight.

He soared across the distorted world with everything he had, energy flaring beneath his feet as he zigzagged and dove, desperately trying to outpace the relentless assault.

But the spatial tears weren’t random.

They were intelligent, responsive, alive.

No matter where he flew, they followed—twisting, turning, bending through the space as if they were locked onto his very soul.

Every time he tried to change direction, a tear would be there, waiting to intercept.

They weren’t just targeting his body—they were testing his understanding of space, forcing him to think like the Concept he sought to master.

The air around him split and mended in wild flashes, each rift threatening to slice him out of existence.

His heart pounded, his thoughts racing just as fast.

This isn’t just comprehension—this is a trial of survival.

And in that moment, Max realized: to claim the Concept of Space, he would first have to survive the wrath of space itself.

‘This won’t do,’ Max thought grimly as he twisted through the sky of the surreal bluish dimension, dodging another spatial tear by the breadth of a hair.

The shrieking sound of space rending itself echoed behind him, a constant, terrifying reminder of how close death hovered.

‘If I keep running, they’ll keep multiplying… and if that happens, I’ll eventually run out of space to run.’ His mind raced even faster than his body, calculating angles, distance, options—but nothing seemed sustainable.

The tears were not only persistent, they were increasing, converging on him like a swarm of blades that refused to relent.

His heart pounded in his chest, but Max forced himself to steady his breath, to clear the panic from his soul.

‘Why did the assessment become like this?’ he wondered, eyes narrowing as he soared between two gaping voids in space that nearly cleaved his body apart.

‘Is this… part of the test?

Do I need to truly master the first level of the Concept of Space—Dimensional Severance—to survive this?’

The thought struck him hard and fast, and everything suddenly made a terrible kind of sense.

The trial wasn’t about comprehension alone—it was about integration, survival, and mastery.

The only way out wasn’t through escape.

It was through control.

The very thing chasing him was the very thing he had to understand.

But the solution that flashed into his mind wasn’t something simple—wasn’t something he could just decide to do.

It required something more.

He would need to sever space itself, to use the Concept instead of merely running from it.

But understanding Dimensional Severance wasn’t like learning a technique or casting a spell—it was becoming one with the law, internalizing its rhythm, its truth.

And right now, Max wasn’t sure he was ready.

Yet the tears didn’t care.

They kept coming, howling toward him like the judgment of space itself.

‘If I don’t figure it out now,’ Max thought with a clenched jaw, ‘then this place will become my grave.’

CREATORS’ THOUGHTS

ShinGotLost

Your gift is the motivation for my creation.

Give me more motivation!