Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Chapter 407: Leveling up Three levels

”Life has indeed returned to our kingdom… and from the looks of it, it will be a long time before it goes away,” Ancestor Ilya said softly, her aged eyes filled with a deep sense of peace as she looked around the Ancestral Hall, now brimming with life.

The once solemn and sacred place had transformed into a sanctuary of blooming flowers, twining vines, and lush greenery. The very air felt fresher, and the scent of blossoms carried hope with it.

All around, the elves looked on with joy in their eyes and awe in their expressions.

They had long lived in the forest, it was their pride and their soul, and watching it wither for years had been a quiet sorrow they had all carried. But now, with life returning to their land, they felt at peace, like something lost had finally come home.

”Lena, you should remain here and keep a watch over our guest,” Ancestor Gallier said next, his voice, for once, kind and respectful.

”Lena dear, take care of things here,” Ancestor Ilya added gently, turning away. ”We have some old scores to settle with the demons now that our forest breathes again. And when our dear guest Max wakes up, take special care of him, Lena.”

With those parting words, the three Ancestors turned and slowly made their way out of the hall, leaving behind only Lenavira, Fugen, and his group.

Fugen glanced once at the glowing green cocoon hovering near the emerald embedded in the statue of Caelira, then turned to Lenavira with a small smile.

”It seems I was suspicious for nothing,” he said lightly. ”Iʼll be outside speaking with the guards. If you need anything, donʼt hesitate.”

With that, he and his elves exited quietly, leaving Lenavira alone inside the hall. She looked at their fading silhouettes and then turned her gaze back to the floating cocoon of green light, shimmering with golden veins and pulsing gently beside the emerald. Her mind was a storm of thoughts.

She remembered how Freya, though countless years younger than her, had surpassed her easily. When Freya ascended to the peak of Tower of Truth, Lenavira had still been struggling between the fifth and sixth floors. It took her more than a month to finally reach the tenth floor, but by then, Freya was already gone, her legend echoing across the continent.

And now, Max had appeared—another monster in the making. Lenavira looked up at the statue of God Ancestor Caelira and couldnʼt help but wonder.

Were Freya and Max truly her children?

It would explain their terrifying talents and unnatural connection to the statue.

But one question still tugged at her—why werenʼt they elves? Were they half-elves?

That could explain their human-like features and the complete lack of elven traits.

She stared at Maxʼs cocoon for a moment longer, then let out a quiet breath. ”From the looks of it… Max doesnʼt know anything either,” she thought, brushing the question aside for now. There were too many mysteries—but the truth could wait. For now, she would watch over him… and wait for the boy who brought life back to the forest to awaken.

***

Max remained sealed inside the golden cocoon for a full seven days, unmoving and silent, like a statue frozen in time. Throughout that time, Lenavira had not left his side, keeping a constant vigil with worried eyes and a quiet heart, hoping for his safe return.

Finally, on the seventh day, the cocoon began to stir. Golden light began to leak from the cracks forming along its smooth surface, growing brighter and more intense with each passing second. Then, with a faint hum and a flash of blinding brilliance, the cocoon began to crack open.

”Heʼs coming out,” Lenavira whispered, her voice filled with relief as she stood up, eyes locked onto the unraveling cocoon. The cracks spread further until, with a soft shattering sound, the cocoon split apart and collapsed, revealing Maxʼs figure suspended in mid-air.

His body radiated a soft, golden glow, almost divine in appearance, as if he had been reborn. Slowly, he floated down and landed gently in the center of the Ancestral Hall.

But something about him had changed. His expression wasnʼt calm or confused—it was a storm of emotion. His eyes were shadowed with fury, pain, and a dozen more unspoken feelings, all clashing violently beneath the surface.

And then the memories came rushing in—everything that had been locked away now returned with full force. He saw it all clearly: his parentsʼ helpless struggle, Freyaʼs escape while carrying him, the cries, the chaos. The weight of that day crushed his heart all over again.

”Mother… Father… just you wait for me,” he muttered, barely loud enough to hear, his fists trembling and clenched with so much force his knuckles turned white.

His sisterʼs words echoed in his mind—that their parents were still alive. That truth was now his anchor, his drive, the spark that ignited his will to grow stronger no matter what especially now that he understood the situation his parents could be in right now.

Just then, a flurry of bright notifications appeared before his eyes—

[Congratulations to Max Voidwalker for leveling up to level 2 of Adept Rank.]

[Congratulations to Max Voidwalker for leveling up to level 3 of Adept Rank.]

[Congratulations to Max Voidwalker for leveling up to level 4 of Adept Rank.]

[Congratulations to Max Voidwalker for reawakening the Divine Bloodline.]

[Check status for more information.]

Max stood motionless, his body still tingling with the overwhelming surge of power that rushed through his veins like a roaring tide. Every inch of him felt alive—stronger, sharper, more awake than ever before. His muscles pulsed with strength, and his soul felt as if it had expanded beyond its previous limits.

ʼLevel 4 of Adept Rank... and Iʼve reawakened my Divine Bloodline?ʼ he thought, eyes widening slightly in surprise.

A gentle, almost bittersweet smile tugged at his lips. He slowly turned his gaze toward the central statue in the Ancestral Hall—the one of his mother, standing tall and graceful. His heart tightened as he stared at her serene face carved in divine perfection.

ʼEven now... youʼre still protecting me, arenʼt you, Mother?ʼ he thought, his throat growing tight. His eyes burned, and for a brief moment, tears threatened to fall, but he forced them back. He couldnʼt afford to cry. Not now.

ʼWait for me, Mother,ʼ he whispered inwardly, full of quiet determination.