Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Max didn’t spare Lucia another glance. He simply turned and walked away from the Tower of Resonance, leaving behind the crowd, the stunned silence, and the pride he’d just shattered like glass. His steps were steady, unhurried, the smirk on his face gone—replaced now with quiet focus.

’The Tower of Resonance... not bad,’ Max mused, his mind shifting smoothly back to what mattered. ’I think I’ve now got a pretty solid grasp of Flame Tyrant’s real strength—its destructive rhythm, its close-range dominance, its reliance on body over weapon.’

The memories of the battle replayed behind his eyes—the fists clashing like thunder, the infernal dragons roaring into being, the heat, the pressure, the moment where instinct took over and he became the inheritance.

And yet, something else lingered. A thought, quiet but persistent.

’That last attack he used,’ Max reflected, recalling the towering infernal dragon conjured by his opponent—a technique far beyond the inherited moves etched into the Flame Tyrant Totem Stone. ’That wasn’t in the inheritance. It was improvised... personal.’ The realization sent a thrill through his chest. ’That means I can do the same. I can evolve it. Add more techniques—refine it into something greater.’

That idea alone made his blood stir with excitement.

Lost in thought, Max arrived before the Black Sun dome, his gaze rising slightly. Compared to the crowd around the Flame Tyrant, the area here was calmer, quieter.

Only a few elites wandered near the entrance—geniuses who had already proven their worth or were too absorbed in their own thoughts to provoke anything. They noticed Max, but no one dared to speak, let alone stand in his way.

Max paid them no attention.

Without a word, he stepped into the dome.

Inside, the space was colder, heavier—not with ice, but with silence, gravity, and an oppressive weight of something ancient. The hall was round like the others, but darker. More solemn.

A few geniuses sat cross-legged near the glowing black stone at the center, eyes closed in deep meditation, their faces pale, expressions tense.

Max said nothing.

He moved quietly to the very front, to one of the open mats closest to the totem. The black stone pulsed gently, faint veins of molten red tracing through its surface like blood through obsidian flesh. It radiated an energy that was calm on the outside... but hinted at an explosive, consuming force beneath.

Max exhaled and sat down.

His mind settled.

And he began to concentrate.

Max looked at the Black Sun Totem Stone, its surface a churning black void threaded with pulsing veins of red-gold light, like cracks on a dying star. It was different from the others—not in power, but in presence.

It didn’t roar like the Flame Tyrant, didn’t seethe or blaze. It simply was. Heavy. Immutable. The longer he stared, the more it felt like it was looking back at him—like a sovereign god, judging whether he was even worthy to kneel before it, let alone comprehend it.

Max narrowed his eyes.

He had no intention of kneeling.

He began as he had before, still and silent on the outside, watching the flickering of light and dark upon the Totem Stone, memorizing every swirl of red-gold, every trembling pulse of energy.

The outside patterns, the rise and fall of its aura, the timing of each flare—it all served as a gateway. A lock. A code.

And he had the key.

With a steady breath, Max slipped into the Dimension of Time.

The world around him twisted, slowed, then froze—becoming a tranquil void of infinite silence. Here, time bent at his will. Here, he could touch its essence more deeply. He could tear apart the meaning within each flicker, unravel every subtle wave of force, and layer the truths together until understanding bloomed.

And that was what he did.

Again and again, Max moved between the physical world and the Dimension of Time.

Each time he returned to the totem in the real world, he caught something new: the subtle swell of energy beneath the surface, the gravitational pulse of law that rippled through the air, the oppressive pressure that wasn’t just energy—but will.

He’d then return to the Dimension of Time and reconstruct what he had seen, pushing it further, diving deeper into the inheritance.

And then came again to recheck his thoughts with totem before going back to ponder again on some new ones.

Hours passed. Then days.

It wasn’t until the seventh day that something shifted.

Max, seated within his Dimension of Time, stood before the Black Sun once more—only this time, it responded. Its pulsing veins surged. From it came a vast wave of pressure, so heavy it felt like the world itself had been placed on Max’s shoulders. And yet, he didn’t buckle.

But he could something was happening in his inner world.

Deep within Max’s inner world, nestled within the ever-expanding Chaos Tree, something began to stir once more.

At the edge of the flame concept branch—already thick with power, already bearing two glowing leaves—a third leaf began to slowly take form.

It sprouted like a whisper of shadow and radiance, unfurling in absolute silence as black and gold hues bled across its delicate surface.

Unlike the raw intensity of the first leaf or the martial boldness of the second, this one bore a regal stillness, a cold authority etched into every vein.

It grew slowly but surely, as if demanding that its presence be not rushed, for dominion was not something earned lightly—it was taken through understanding, through mastery, through will.

The patterns of the Black Sun were clearly visible upon it, coiling and spiraling into symbols that glowed faintly with a molten golden hue, resembling miniature suns sealed in obsidian flesh.

Each flicker of its light felt like a command; each breath it pulsed out sent ripples of authority through the Chaos Tree.

Time stretched.

And then, with a final shimmer of energy, the leaf settled into its rightful place—still, proud, inviolable.

The flame concept branch now held three leaves: the first, bright and fierce, was the foundational Concept of Flames, blazing with pure elemental law; the second, carved with jagged marks and glowing crimson, was the embodiment of the Flame Tyrant Inheritance, a leaf of war and wrath, of fists that broke mountains; and now the third—a crown among flames—was the Black Sun Inheritance, cold and commanding, radiating a terrifying grace that eclipsed all beneath its shadow.

Max, still seated in silence, felt the shift.

Suddenly, understanding poured into him like molten metal into a cast.

The Black Sun Inheritance wasn’t about destruction.

It was rule.

It was the inheritance of absolute authority, of complete dominance within a defined space—an area over which the user was Emperor, and everything else was a subject.

Within that space, the user’s will was law. Their word was fate. They could suppress flight, silence sound, reverse force, twist gravity—anything, everything, obeyed.

An Emperor’s Domain.

Max opened his eyes slowly in the real world, a heavy, silent pressure now radiating from his seated figure. His thoughts were calm, but deep within, he felt the birth of a new power. Not wild. Not flashy. But terrifying in its control.