Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

On the projection screen, Max continued advancing deeper into the tenth layer. The flames there were no longer merely chaotic. They were oppressive, heavy with refined law intent. The deeper he moved, the denser they became, pressing down upon him like an invisible mountain.

”The pressure on the tenth layer has risen again,” Max muttered softly as he walked forward.

His pace was no longer the swift surge he had displayed in the ninth layer. It had slowed noticeably. Each step required more effort. The ground beneath his feet seemed to resist his advance, and the flame laws twisted around him in thicker formations.

Yet he did not stop.

Within his body, the mysterious bud on the flame branch of the Chaos Tree continued to devour energy at an astonishing rate. Golden strands flowed into it continuously, nourishing it.

Because of this, Max did not need to struggle against the chaotic flame laws themselves. They were weakened wherever he stood. However, the sheer pressure of the tenth layer was another matter entirely.

The weight pressed against his bones, slowed his breathing, and forced his muscles to tighten with each forward movement.

Still, he advanced.

Inside his inner world, he observed the bud carefully.

”It is slowly growing,” he thought calmly. ”I wonder what will happen when it fully matures.”

The bud pulsed faintly, its aura ancient and profound. Max could sense that it required an enormous amount of energy to reach completion. The pace at which it devoured the surroundings was already terrifying, yet even so, he could feel that it was far from reaching its peak state.

That realization only strengthened his resolve to go deeper.

Nine thousand four hundred miles.

Nine thousand five hundred miles.

The moment the projection displayed the number, a low murmur swept through the viewing platform.

”He has reached the halfway point of the tenth layer,” Victor Veron said solemnly, his voice quiet yet filled with gravity.

The statement hung heavily in the air.

Halfway.

Few disciples had ever reached that depth in the tenth layer.

Isabella’s breathing grew shallow as she watched. Her earlier shock had transformed into rigid silence. Her eyes remained fixed on the screen, unwilling to look away.

Max did not pause at nine thousand five hundred miles.

Nine thousand six hundred miles.

A ripple of tension spread across the crowd.

”Nine thousand six hundred.”

”Is he truly going to approach the peak?”

Nine thousand seven hundred miles.

The elders leaned forward unconsciously. Some clasped their hands behind their backs to steady themselves. Others whispered in disbelief.

”Even Zain slowed considerably at this depth.”

Nine thousand eight hundred miles.

The pressure within the tenth layer visibly intensified on the projection. The flames surged violently around Max, their density so thick that his silhouette appeared partially obscured. Yet he continued moving, step by step.

Henry Lumin’s expression had grown completely serious. Whatever thoughts of comparison he once had were now replaced by a single realization.

This disciple was not ordinary.

Lilith Carol exhaled slowly. ”He is still advancing.”

Matthew Grimes watched with a faint smile, though even his eyes held tension now.

Garry Heron’s face darkened further. His fingers curled tightly behind his back. The pride he once felt for Zain’s achievement was now mixed with unwilling acknowledgment that another was pushing even closer to legend.

Seraphina’s gaze remained fixed and cold.

On the screen, Max pushed beyond nine thousand eight hundred miles.

The entire platform was on edge.

No one spoke now.

They simply watched, waiting to see how far this relentless figure would go.

Nine thousand eight hundred and fifty miles.

The projection flickered faintly as Max’s figure moved forward through the raging inferno of the tenth layer. The flames had grown darker, denser, almost liquid in their intensity. Each step he took seemed to sink slightly into the ground beneath him as though the very space resisted his advance.

Nine thousand nine hundred miles.

The number appeared clearly upon the projection.

A wave of audible gasps spread across the viewing platform.

Max’s pace had slowed to a deliberate march. The pressure at this depth was suffocating, compressing his aura and pressing down upon him like a collapsing sky. The chaotic flame laws were no longer scattered. They gathered before him in thick formations, intertwining in violent spirals that blocked the path toward the boundary of the eleventh layer.

Yet he stood firm.

Above the crowd, the projection magnified his figure as he remained steady amidst the storm of fire.

”He has reached nine thousand nine hundred miles.” An elder’s voice trembled slightly as he spoke. ”That means only a hundred miles remain before the eleventh layer.”

The tension among the gathered disciples became palpable.

”Will he reach it?”

”Can he really enter the eleventh layer like Zain did?”

”This is impossible... no one expected him to even enter the tenth layer.”

Victor Veron’s eyes widened faintly as he leaned forward. ”If he crosses this final stretch, then two disciples will have entered the eleventh layer in a single trial.”

Henry Lumin’s expression was solemn, his gaze fixed on the projection. ”Zain struggled immensely in those last hundred miles. The pressure near the boundary is far greater than what we have seen so far. It will take Max everything he has to cross this hurdle.”

Lilith Carol’s voice was low but clear. ”Look at the density of those flame laws. They are almost forming a wall. I highly doubt Max can cross this.”

Matthew Grimes folded his hands behind his back as he stood up from his seat, though his usually calm demeanor had tightened.

”He is not retreating,” he said quietly. ”If he does enter the 11th layer, he would create another miracle.”

On the projection, Max took another step.

The flames surged violently as though angered by his persistence. The chaotic laws gathered before him in a massive swirl, blocking the path like an invisible gate.

”Is he going to force his way through?”

”Or will he be stopped here?”

A disciple whispered nervously.

Seraphina Vale’s eyes narrowed.

”He cannot possibly enter the eleventh layer,” she muttered under her breath. ”The tenth layer’s peak is already beyond most.”

Garry Heron’s jaw tightened as he watched.

”If he enters the eleventh layer...” he did not finish the sentence, but the implication hung heavily in the air.

Above them all, Max’s figure stood at nine thousand nine hundred miles, the boundary to the eleventh layer shimmering faintly ahead.

Every person present held their breath.

No one dared to blink.

The anticipation was suffocating.

Would he stop here?

Or would he take that final step?