Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

The humans.

More specifically, the human geniuses from the Valora Continent.

They stood scattered throughout the hall—some gathered in small groups, others standing alone—but when Max entered the arena, all eyes turned toward him in stunned silence.

”…Wait a second,” one whispered, his eyes wide. ”Isn’t that… Max?”

”Max Morgan?” another asked, voice hushed in disbelief. ”I thought he was dead.”

”Same here. I heard he disappeared months ago. No word. Not a trace.”

”No, you guys weren’t there. But I saw it. He was snapped out existence by Mark.”

”And now he’s here…” one of them muttered, eyes locking onto Max’s figure in the arena. ”Fighting a Level 3 Seeker Rank demon with Level 1 Adept Rank strength… That’s madness. Or courage.”

”Both,” someone else said, a slow smile creeping across his face. ”But that’s Max for you.”

Excitement rippled through their ranks.

These weren’t the top-tier prodigies of Valora—the brightest stars had already pushed into the third and even fourth floors of the Tower of Truth. Max’s closest companions and elite peers had gone far ahead, carving their paths upward.

But these ones—still geniuses in their own right—had struggled.

Some couldn’t even clear the first floor.

They hailed from different regions—some from the East, others the West. A few wore the colors of the top five guilds, others bore the insignias of the four super families. But in the Tower of Truth, none of that mattered.

Status and bloodline meant little here.

Power spoke louder.

And in this chamber, these were the ones who had yet to prove themselves.

Still… seeing Max step forward, fearless and defiant, something awakened in them.

”For too long we’ve been forced down by those arrogant demons and smug elves,” one of them muttered, clenching his fists. ”Some of our friends died trying to break past this floor.”

”But with Max here… maybe that changes.”

”Yeah. He’s one of us. And if he leads the way—maybe we’ll finally show them what humans are made of.”

”Definitely.”

They exchanged glances. Nods of understanding. Small sparks of hope lighting up their eyes.

Max’s presence didn’t just challenge a demon.

It ignited something in the humans around him—especially the ones who still had something to prove.

Max stood calmly in the center of the arena, his posture relaxed, his eyes locked on the demon before him.

He raised a single hand and curled his fingers slowly.

”Come on then,” he said with a cool smile. ”Show me what you’ve got.”

The demon’s expression twisted into a snarl.

”Kid, you’re full of confidence for someone barely at Level 1 of the Adept Rank,” he growled, baring sharp teeth in a savage grin.

With a thunderous crack, the demon pushed off the arena floor, the stone beneath his feet fracturing from the sheer force of his leap. In the blink of an eye, he crossed the distance and appeared in front of Max—his fist already flying forward with terrifying momentum.

But Max didn’t flinch.

His Three-Dimensional Body was fully activated, his perception heightened to an unnatural level. He could see the punch. See the muscles tense, the shift in weight, the trajectory. It was all too clear.

With a small step to the left, Max avoided the blow effortlessly.

The demon’s eyes widened briefly. ”Hmph… Fast. You’re fast for a Level 1 Adept, I’ll give you that,” he muttered, his tone more serious now.

Without missing a beat, he launched another punch.

Max dodged again.

Not just avoided—anticipated. It was as if he knew exactly where the demon would strike next.

The demon’s grin vanished.

”You think you can dodge my fists forever?” he snarled, his voice rising with fury.

He struck again, his knuckles whistling through the air, the force behind the blow enough to shatter bones—if it connected. But just as it neared Max’s head, the boy shifted—just slightly—and the punch missed by inches.

”Damn you!” the demon roared.

He launched a flurry of attacks—one after another. His fists blurred, pounding the air, slicing through space like hammers of destruction.

But Max? He was untouchable.

Each strike met only air. Every technique—every deceptive feint, every speed-enhanced punch, every shift in rhythm—was dodged cleanly.

No energy burst. No flashy movement.

Just perfect, precise evasion.

The onlookers watched in stunned silence. The air was thick with tension and disbelief.

The demon’s face twisted into frustration, veins bulging across his forehead.

”I don’t believe this!” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the hall as he launched another barrage—faster, harder, wilder.

And yet… Max dodged every single one.

Without breaking a sweat. Without losing that calm, almost amused look in his eyes.

He was in control.

And the demon was beginning to realize it.

”All right,” Max muttered under his breath, his voice low and steady. ”Time to finish it.”

Another punch came barreling toward him, wild and forceful—desperate now. But this time, Max didn’t dodge.

He raised his left hand and caught the fist mid-air.

The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the arena floor, but Max didn’t budge. His grip tightened like an unyielding vice.

The demon’s eyes widened in disbelief.

”What—?!”

Before the words could leave his mouth, Max’s right arm pulled back—and then drove forward like a cannon.

His fist, empowered by the strength of a hundred condensed Draconic Essences, crashed into the demon’s chest.

Bang!

The sound was deafening.

Like a thunderclap tearing through stone.

The demon’s body was sent flying backwards, a blur of red and black hurling through the air. And then—mid-flight—it happened.

His body shattered.

Bones cracked. Flesh ruptured. Blood and bits of crimson energy erupted like a firework in midair.

The crowd gasped.

The demon’s body exploded into pieces, scattered across the far edge of the arena, leaving behind nothing but the fading echoes of the blast and stunned silence.

He was dead.

One punch.

One strike.

It was over.

But just as the fight ended, and the dust settled, Max noticed something—something that made his eyes narrow.

The remains of the demon… were disappearing.

What was left of the corpse—chunks of flesh, cracked bones, even the blood staining the ground—began to dissolve into faint streams of red and gold light. The streams twisted unnaturally, flowing toward the arena floor as if being absorbed.

Max watched in silence as the arena itself swallowed the remnants of the demon like a living thing.

And then he felt it.

A pulse.

From his hand.

His Essence Stone—still clutched tightly—began to vibrate.

He looked down and saw golden particles of light swirling around the stone, almost like fireflies caught in a spiral. They shimmered, dancing in slow motion, before slowly sinking into the surface of the stone.

A moment later, a faint number appeared on it, glowing softly.

’300.’

Max’s eyes narrowed.

’These golden particles…’

He recognized them. The texture, the feeling, the power in the air—it was identical to what he had encountered back in the temple. The trial for ascending to higher floors. When he killed the monsters there, these same golden particles had appeared, and each time he absorbed them, his strength had surged.

Back then, they had helped him rise three levels in a row.

Before he could think further, Blob’s voice echoed in his mind.

”Yeah, those golden glowing particles in the stone? That’s life essence—just like what you absorbed in the temple,” the little creature said, his tone calm and informative. ”But this… this is more refined. It’s purer. Stronger.”

Max’s grip on the stone tightened.

”If you absorb this essence,” Blob continued, ”it’ll definitely increase your strength. You might even reach Level 2 of Adept Rank. But it won’t be enough on its own. You’ll need a few more wins—collect more life essence—before you can truly break through.”

Max nodded silently.

So that’s how the tower worked.

Kill. Win. Absorb.

Refined life essence as reward.

A path paved not only with blood—but with opportunity.