Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

After reaching that understanding, Max no longer hesitated. If the golden slashes were teachings, then he would force the boulder to teach him until nothing remained hidden.

His gaze sharpened, and a fierce hunger rose from the depths of his heart. The pain in his arms, the blood at the corner of his lips, and the trembling in his meridians all became insignificant before the opportunity standing in front of him.

Without wasting another moment, Max extended his will and sent his Concept of Severing Sword into the boulder once more.

The response was immediate.

Golden light burst from the ancient stone with blinding brilliance. Every sword mark across its weathered surface ignited simultaneously, causing the massive boulder to resemble a radiant sun forged from sword intent.

A terrifying pressure descended upon the hidden plane, so sharp and majestic that even the surrounding air seemed to split apart under its presence.

Then another slash came.

It crossed the distance in an instant, moving with such terrifying speed that it seemed to ignore the concept of travel itself. One moment it was born from the boulder, and the next it had already arrived before Max.

His battle instincts exploded.

Dragonheart rose in both hands as Max twisted his waist and met the strike head on.

Steel and golden light collided with a thunderous sound. Violent force surged through the blade and into his arms, numbing his fingers and shaking his bones. The impact drove him backward several steps, tearing long scars into the earth beneath his boots.

Before he had even fully stabilized himself, Max’s eyes flashed again.

He sent his Severing Sword Concept back into the boulder.

Another golden slash answered.

He blocked again.

Then he attacked the boulder with his concept once more.

Another slash came.

Again he blocked.

This cycle repeated without pause. Golden brilliance erupted over and over across the hidden plane as the boulder answered every challenge with another sword strike. Max responded each time with all the strength, skill, and willpower he possessed.

His wrists began to bleed from repeated strain.

The skin of his palms split open against Dragonheart’s hilt.

His internal organs shook violently from the transmitted impacts.

His chest tightened, his muscles screamed, and blood rose repeatedly into his throat.

One must know that Max’s body was super strong right now. With 5000 Dragon Scales passively protecting his body, it should have been impossible for mere sword slashes to even hurt him but here it was like he was a mortal facing those slashes.

Yet Max refused to stop.

He kept sending his concept forward.

He kept receiving the slashes.

He kept blocking.

Again and again.

Again and again.

At first, every sword slash felt overwhelming. Though similar in essence, each strike possessed subtle differences that revealed terrifying depth.

Some cuts were direct and straight, carrying absolute simplicity that crushed resistance through purity alone. Some curved slightly in motion, changing their line at the final moment like serpents striking from concealment.

Some descended with crushing authority as if they sought to split mountains apart. Others rose upward with hidden momentum, like dragons emerging from deep waters to challenge the heavens.

Max forced himself to memorize every one of them with his Dimensional Sovereign Body.

Even while blood dripped from his hands and pain thundered through his body, his mind worked with frightening clarity.

Between collisions, he replayed each slash repeatedly within his thoughts. He examined how force entered the blade, how intent condensed before release, how movement remained simple while containing endless refinement. There was no wasted motion in any strike. Every action existed because it was necessary.

Then, amid this endless exchange, the boulder suddenly changed.

The golden light coating its surface trembled violently. The countless sword marks began to move like rivers of radiance flowing across stone. One by one, they converged toward the center. Ancient lines merged together, and the shape of the boulder blurred before Max’s eyes.

The massive stone transformed into the shadow of a man.

The figure stood tall and indistinct, formed entirely from darkness edged in gold. Its face could not be seen. Its clothing shifted like smoke. No aura of cultivation could be sensed from it, yet its mere presence carried a pressure deeper than mountains and older than time.

Only one thing was perfectly clear.

It held a sword.

Max’s heart trembled violently at the sight.

Before he could gather another thought, the shadowy man stepped forward and swung.

The motion was clean, simple, and flawless.

From that one swing, a golden sword slash was born and shot toward Max.

Max reacted on instinct, raising Dragonheart with desperate speed.

The collision blasted him backward across the ground, yet Max no longer cared about the force of the strike. His full attention was fixed upon the movement that had created it. He studied the step, the turn of the waist, the line of the shoulder, the angle of the wrist, and the precise instant power traveled from the body into the blade.

That strike had not been random.

It had demonstrated form.

Without allowing himself to lose concentration, Max immediately sent his Severing Sword Concept outward again.

The shadowy man answered with another swing.

Then another.

Then another.

Again and again, the figure raised its sword and released golden slashes. Again and again, Max blocked while studying every subtle movement. He watched how breath matched rhythm. He watched how balance shifted before each attack. He watched how attack and defense were hidden inside the same motion.

He was no longer merely defending.

He was learning an art.

At first, Max could imitate only fragments. He copied a slight change in stance. He mimicked the sharper turning of a shoulder. He adjusted the angle of interception. He learned how force flowed more directly from body to blade.

With every clash, his understanding deepened.

The shadowy figure swung downward, and Max began to answer with the same descending path. The figure rotated into a diagonal slash, and Max gradually mirrored the same rotation to neutralize it. The figure drew a short horizontal line that concealed a hidden thrust at the end, and Max eventually responded with the same transition to break the attack before completion.

The more he blocked, the more he learned.

The more he learned, the more he could reproduce.

The more he reproduced, the less pressure each clash placed upon him.

Soon the battlefield entered a strange rhythm. The shadowy man attacked, and Max responded with the same move. The shadowy man changed sequence, and Max changed with it. The shadowy man advanced one step and cut, and Max advanced one step and cut in return.

Golden slashes crossed the hidden plane endlessly as phantom and challenger mirrored one another in a storm of steel and light. Their movements grew faster, cleaner, and simpler. Each strike appeared plain to the eye, yet each one contained layers of profound sword truth.

Time gradually lost meaning.

Max forgot pain.

He forgot fatigue.

He forgot the countless experts seated outside this hidden plane.

He forgot even himself and unconsciously entered the state of his half baked cosmic path of emotion severing sword.

In his mind only sword remained.

At some unknown moment, all the scattered pieces of understanding within Max suddenly connected. Every repeated slash, every form, every transition between offense and defense, every simple motion hiding infinite depth became one complete whole inside his mind.

It was one sword art.

Not separate techniques.

Not isolated moves.

One continuous scripture expressed through countless slashes.

The instant Max grasped this truth, something within him transformed.

He moved before the shadowy man did.

He stepped forward with perfect balance. His waist turned naturally. His shoulders aligned without force. His breath sank calmly into his core. Dragonheart swung in one seamless motion carrying the exact essence he had comprehended.

A golden slash burst from his blade.

It collided with the figure’s incoming attack and shattered it completely.

Silence filled the hidden plane.

For the first time, the shadowy figure stopped moving. It slowly lowered its sword and seemed to look at Max one final time. No words were spoken, yet Max felt an unmistakable acknowledgment pass between them.

The next breath, the figure dissolved into countless streams of golden light.

Those streams returned to the ancient stone.

The boulder reappeared in its original form.

All brilliance faded.

The countless sword marks became silent once more.

Max stood there breathing heavily. His body was battered, bloodied, and exhausted. Every muscle screamed in pain, and yet his eyes shone brighter than ever before.

He sent his Severing Sword Concept toward the boulder again.

Nothing happened.

No golden light emerged.

No slash was released.

No response came.

The lesson was over.

Max slowly tightened his grip on Dragonheart and gazed at the silent boulder before him. He had not merely endured its attacks. He had not merely copied a few techniques.

He had inherited the sword art hidden within them.

Saint Origin Sword Art.