Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Max stepped into the dome and instantly found himself surrounded by a serene, almost sacred stillness. The space he entered was a wide, white circular hall that seemed to stretch endlessly, the polished stone beneath his feet gleaming like moonlight on water.

In the very center of the hall rested a single black stone, carved with countless ancient runes and pulsing with heat, rhythm, and mystery.

From this Totem Stone of the Flame Tyrant, a torrent of Concepts and Laws radiated outward—fire-based insights, threads of origin flame energy, and slivers of comprehension waiting to be seized by those capable of reaching for them.

Around the stone, twenty to thirty geniuses sat cross-legged in near-perfect stillness, their eyes closed, brows furrowed in deep focus as they silently tried to attune themselves to the secrets of the Totem.

The atmosphere was heavy with intensity and reverence, broken only by the faint hum of law energy drifting through the air like a whispering flame.

But the moment Max’s footsteps echoed into the hall, every head turned.

Eyes snapped open. Geniuses who hadn’t moved for hours looked up as if yanked out of meditation. Surprise, confusion, and even a trace of disbelief danced in their expressions.

”Who is that?”

”Wait... is he from the Mortal Realm?”

”How could someone from the Mortal Realm come here when those from the Grimes Family blocking the path?!”

A few of them whispered among themselves, though none dared raise their voices too loud in the presence of the Totem.

Max, entirely unbothered by the sudden attention, offered a calm smile. ”Don’t mind me,” he said casually, his tone polite and even.

He let his gaze sweep over the chamber, looking for an unoccupied place to sit when he noticed something unusual—several vacant mattresses placed directly in front of the Totem Stone, the closest possible distance to it. Every other genius had avoided those spots.

Only one figure sat there.

A girl with crimson hair like flowing embers, wrapped in a deep red robe embroidered with gold. Her back was straight, her eyes closed, and her aura unfathomably deep—like a dormant volcano, still but menacing.

She radiated nobility and power, and even seated in silence, her presence overpowered everyone else in the chamber.

’Is that Lucia Grimes?’ Max mused inwardly, the corner of his lips twitching in amusement as he slowly walked forward, past the stunned crowd, straight toward the empty space beside her.

He hadn’t even taken more than a few steps when it happened.

Boom.

A wave of bloodline pressure surged from the seated girl—Lucia Grimes. It was sharp, direct, and unmistakably intentional. Like a blade aimed straight at his soul, she unleashed her Black Dragon Chaotic Bloodline to suppress him, to push him down and declare dominion without words.

Max blinked.

’Bloodline suppression?’ he thought, almost chuckling aloud. It felt like someone was trying to press a leaf onto a mountain and expecting it to collapse.

Her pressure washed over him—and then vanished as if it had been swallowed whole.

Nothing happened. Not a twitch. Not a flicker.

The oppressive energy melted into the air like mist under sunlight. Max didn’t even slow his pace. If anything, he looked amused.

Did she really think that would work?

His own bloodline, already beyond the threshold of what most considered natural, didn’t even react.

And even if it had, the hidden power of the Primordial Title he carried within would have obliterated the effect. To Max, her attempt was like a child trying to shove a mountain with a feather.

From the seated geniuses behind, stunned whispers erupted.

”Did she just try to suppress him?!”

”And... he walked through it like it was nothing.”

”That’s Lucia Grimes! Her bloodline is top-tier even among Divine Realm heirs!”

”He didn’t even flinch!”

As Max calmly walked to the mat beside Lucia and sat down cross-legged, not even glancing at her directly, a subtle ripple passed through the room. Silence returned—but now it was heavy. Charged. No one dared speak louder. Everyone was watching.

Lucia Grimes, eyes still closed, showed no reaction. But the faintest crease tugged at her brow.

She had felt it too.

The moment her bloodline surged outward, it met something bottomless.

Something she couldn’t suppress.

And for the first time... a flicker of interest stirred behind her closed lids.

But that was all. She made no further move, offered no words, not even a glance. Her aura withdrew like a tide receding from the shore, as if the entire encounter had never happened.

And for that, Max was grateful. He hadn’t come here to make enemies—especially not inside the Comprehension Hall where the stakes were understanding, not ego.

He didn’t need a confrontation, not with her, not now. Even if they were outside, he wouldn’t have sought a fight. It wasn’t fear that stayed his hand. It was clarity.

His gaze flicked toward her profile as she remained motionless, her aura steady once more. ’I can’t see through her strength at all,’ he thought solemnly. Not even a wisp.

And that only happened when someone’s strength was at the Master Rank or beyond—an entire realm above his current level. That realization didn’t shake him. It grounded him.

He remembered what the blue-haired young man had said: one of the most outstanding geniuses of the Divine Realm. That wasn’t just boast. Her strength wasn’t just high—it was immeasurable from where he stood.

She wasn’t the kind of genius praised once in a generation. She was the kind whose name echoed through the halls of power like a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled.

Shaking his head and drawing in a deep, steadying breath, Max cleared his thoughts and turned fully toward the center of the hall. The Totem Stone of the Flame Tyrant glowed with a deep crimson-black hue, ancient runes crawling across its surface like fire etched into stone.

It was alive—breathing with power.

It radiated waves of source laws so potent that the air shimmered around it. Concepts of flame twisted and danced, not just as elements of heat or destruction, but as will—intelligent, sovereign, demanding to be understood, but not owned.

This was the legacy of one of the powerhouses of the Black Dragon Palace, left behind not just to be comprehended, but challenged.

Max’s heart began to beat faster—not from fear, but from anticipation. This was why he was here. This was the path of his True Inheritance. And he would walk it, no matter who sat beside him, no matter how many stared from behind. The flames didn’t care for lineage or background.

Only understanding.

And so Max pushed aside all lingering thoughts, drawing in a long, slow breath as he turned his full attention to the Flame Tyrant Totem Stone. The hall around him seemed to fall away—Lucia’s presence, the watching geniuses, the whispered rumors—all faded like smoke before the towering presence of the stone.

He sat cross-legged on the mat, eyes fixed on the dense, rune-scarred surface of the black stone. It pulsed faintly with a smoldering light, and with every pulse, a wave of heatless flame danced across its surface. But this flame did not burn with physical heat—it burned with meaning.

Every flicker, every curl of smoke, every rune carved into its form radiated the weight of ages and the depth of a legacy forged in battle and blood.

Max narrowed his eyes and sank his senses into it. At first, there was only confusion—lines of ancient flame concepts layered upon one another, far too complex for a single glance to understand. But Max had never relied on brute force alone.

With patience honed by countless hours of meditation, he allowed his consciousness to settle into the rhythm of the Totem’s resonance. He followed its waves, let his soul drift deeper into its layers, and slowly—like mist clearing from a mirror—patterns began to form.

Threads of flame energy moved in spirals, each movement speaking of control, not chaos. These were not wild, untamed fires. They were disciplined, fierce, and deliberate. The inheritance didn’t just represent flame—it represented dominion over flame.

The Flame Tyrant Totem was more than a legacy of destruction; it was the art of commanding fire with absolute will.

But even with his sharp perception, Max knew time was limited. Others had two months. He needed far more as he had two more Totem Stones to comprehend.

And so, without hesitation, he activated the ability of his class and slipped into the Dimension of Time—a place where time flowed differently from the outside world. Inside that personal space, the world slowed, and comprehension bloomed.

There, surrounded by the slowed rhythm of space and time, he sat in silence, studying every flicker, every shift of the Totem’s glow. He mapped out each rune, memorized their sequences, and pondered the ancient intentions behind their curves and etchings.

When he felt his understanding became clear, he would return to the real world, realign his thoughts with the Totem Stone again, and then vanish back into the Dimension of Time again, continuing his work without pause.

Hours turned into days, days blurred into longer stretches, and while others in the hall had barely begun scratching the surface of their comprehension, Max was already walking through the internal architecture of the Totem Stone’s legacy—studying the very bones of the Flame Tyrant’s techniques.

His soul adapted, molded itself with the insights he gathered, and slowly but surely, Max’s own Concept of Flames began to twist, deepen, and refine.

He wasn’t just learning how to use flame.

He was learning how to command it—how to make fire kneel.