Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

”Look at your right palm,” Blob said suddenly, his tone curious, one stubby limb pointing toward Max’s hand.

Max lifted his right hand, turning the palm upward.

His breath caught.

Etched into his flesh was a blood-red tattoo, the lines sharp, dark, and pulsing faintly with sinister energy. The symbol was unmistakable—it resembled the infernal demon he’d seen carved onto the gates of the Mourning Depths back in the Divine Palace.

It looked ancient. Malevolent. Alive.

But there was only a single layer.

Max instinctively understood what it meant. This was the Infernal Demon Tattoo, and with each added layer, he would gain greater control over infernal energy, becoming stronger… darker.

But to add more layers—to evolve the tattoo—he would have to hunt and kill more infernal beings. Their deaths, and the infernal energy they released, would be the fuel his body needed to absorb and expand the mark.

And there was another mark below the infernal demon tattoo. It was a teleportation mark left behind by Cain when he left.

---

”So…” Blob began, floating in front of him, arms crossed like a smug teacher, ”what are your plans now that you’ve finally stepped into the Adept Rank?”

Max grinned.

But before he could answer—

A sudden jolt shot through his body.

His knees buckled.

His vision blurred.

And in the next instant—darkness.

”Max!” Blob rushed forward, catching him just before he collapsed fully. He hovered closer, placing a soft hand on Max’s chest and scanning his energy.

”…Stable,” Blob muttered, confused. ”In fact, he’s in even better condition than before he broke through.”

So why had he passed out?

Blob’s face turned serious. He floated up, placed a tiny hand on Max’s forehead, and reached inward—sending his consciousness drifting into the depths of Max’s soul.

There, beyond layers of energy and thought, he reached the Soul Palace.

A vast, majestic plane of swirling energy—Max’s spiritual core.

But when he reached the gates, he froze.

”…What?”

He blinked again.

”…The Yin portion of his soul… it’s missing?”

His voice trembled with disbelief.

”How the hell is he even alive?”

A soul was not a single piece.

It was two halves: Yin and Yang.

Shadow and light. Cold and warm. Passive and active.

Together, they made balance. Together, they made life.

A missing Yin or Yang soul meant only one thing: death.

It was an absolute law of existence. A soul could not function with only one half. And yet—

Here Max was.

Alive. Speaking. Laughing.

Fighting the Wrath of the World.

Blob stared at the glowing entrance to the Soul Palace, stunned into silence.

He had seen countless anomalies in his time—beings that defied death, spirits born of nothing, even laws bent and rewritten.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

He had been speaking with someone who possessed only a Yang soul.

And that was supposed to be impossible.

The Blob hovered in place, his eyes fixed on Max’s unconscious body, his round face contorted with equal parts worry and wonder.

”What the hell, kid…” he murmured softly. ”What are you?”

He didn’t expect an answer.

Not yet.

Max needed rest—and for now, that took priority.

With a flick of his will, the Blob began to dig into the earth. The twisted terrain of the Mourning Depths was dangerous, but one thing it offered was seclusion. He tunneled down, crafting a small underground shelter, warding the walls with spiritual energy to prevent infernal beings from sensing them.

By the time it was done, Max lay peacefully inside—a simple but safe haven in a land where nothing else was safe.

---

A full day passed.

Max didn’t stir.

He remained still, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. But his eyes stayed shut, locked in whatever world his mind now wandered through.

Then—finally—they fluttered open.

Slow. Heavy.

He blinked against the dim light of the cavern, disoriented for a moment, before realization crept in.

”…I fainted again,” he muttered, voice low and hoarse. He sat up slowly, stretching his limbs. His face was grim, not from pain, but from the familiarity of the experience.

Across the cave, the Blob hovered quietly.

Max caught sight of him and forced a casual tone into his voice. ”Don’t worry. This happens sometimes.”

But Blob’s face didn’t change. He didn’t smile. He didn’t blink.

He floated up, and without warning, his tiny, squishy hand slapped Max’s forehead with a wet smack.

”Boy,” Blob said sternly, ”don’t brush this off like it’s nothing. You’re in serious trouble.”

Max winced, rubbing his head. ”You mean… the fainting?”

Blob nodded, more serious than Max had ever seen him. ”I’ve scanned your entire body—every cell, every fragment of your spirit. I searched your soul.”

Max frowned. ”And?”

”I found something missing,” Blob said slowly.

Max stilled.

”Missing?” he echoed. ”What is it?”

Blob hesitated. His eyes narrowed as if weighing whether to speak the truth aloud.

Finally, he said, ”A soul is made of two halves—Yin and Yang. They’re not optional. They’re not decorative. They’re essential. One complements the other. Without both, the soul collapses. The body dies.”

Max listened quietly, brows drawing together.

”A person cannot live with only one,” Blob continued. ”If either the Yin or Yang part is missing… that’s it. The soul disintegrates. The mind erodes. The body follows. It’s final.”

Max’s heart began to beat faster. A cold realization stirred in his chest.

”…Yin and Yang soul,” he muttered, his eyes growing wide.

His mind shot back to the doorway of the Soul Palace—the swirling design he always assumed was a symbolic Taiji diagram, the classic black-and-white circle representing balance.

But now…

Now he understood.

That wasn’t a symbol.

That was his soul.

And he only had half of it.

The white half.

Yang.

His eyes widened in alarm as he looked up at Blob. ”I don’t have a Yin soul…” he whispered in disbelief. ”All this time… it wasn’t a design. That was my soul’s composition. I only have the white portion.”

He sat in silence, his voice trailing off into the quiet of the cave.

What did it mean to live with only half a soul?

And how was he even alive?