Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Chapter 446: Mysterious Dark Aura

”Huh?” Alice scoffed, crossing her arms with a glare. ”As if Iʼll believe that.” She rolled her eyes, but couldnʼt help the small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She knew the Tower of Truth wasnʼt something that could be controlled so easily, and Maxʼs smug tone made it clear he was messing with her. Or so she thought. What she didnʼt realize was that Max wasnʼt joking. Not entirely.

Still playing along, she huffed. ”You mustʼve gained some kind of Authority, huh? Thatʼs probably how youʼre walking around in here.”

Max gave her a long, unreadable look, then let out a soft laugh. ”Alright, you caught me. But now you know I can reach you even if I leave the Chamber of Concepts.”

Alice gave a satisfied nod. ”Donʼt forget to call me when you get out.”

Max grinned. ”How could I ever forget about you?” he teased.

”Now go away,” Alice shot back, though there was no real heat in her words.

Max nodded with a smile. ”Iʼll see you soon.” With that, his body shimmered briefly and disappeared from her flaming chamber, reappearing moments later on the tenth floor, right at the glowing blue entrance of the Chamber of Concepts—alone once more, but carrying the warmth of the moment with him.

He stood in silence before the entrance of the Chamber of Concepts, his eyes narrowing and his brows furrowing in unease. The glowing blue light that once seemed serene now pulsed with something far more sinister, something that crawled beneath the surface of his senses like a shadow in the soul.

Ever since he had connected with the Tower of Truth, his perception had expanded—he could feel things others couldnʼt, energies hidden in layers unseen by ordinary eyes. And now, standing here, he felt it again. A dark, foreboding aura. Heavy. Ancient. Almost suffocating in its weight. And yet, what disturbed him the most wasnʼt the darkness of it—it was the familiarity.

ʼWhat is this aura?ʼ Max asked himself, a flicker of unease rising in his chest. ʼWhere is it coming from?ʼ He closed his eyes, focused, and traced the sensation. It wasnʼt coming from within the Chamber itself—he was sure of that. When heʼd entered earlier with Alice, there had been no such presence.

The inside of the Chamber was intense, yes, filled with elemental power and conceptual laws, but not this... corruption. No, this aura was rooted somewhere else, right at the boundary, at the threshold where the outer floor met the entrance of the Chamber of Concepts.

The closer he stood to the entrance, the clearer it became—like something had seeped into the Tower unnoticed, embedding itself just beneath the surface, hidden from ordinary sight. And yet now, with his link to the Tower, he could feel it—this lurking, familiar evil, pulsing in silence, waiting.

ʼXolo, are you feeling this dark aura coming from the entrance of the Chamber of Concepts?ʼ Max asked inwardly, his eyes still fixed on the glowing veil of blue light.

If anyone could make sense of what he was sensing, it would be Xolo—the ancient spirit that had been guarding and overseeing the Tower of Truth since the very moment it was built. If there was a secret buried in these walls, surely Xolo would know something.

There was a brief pause before the tower spirit responded, its voice echoing directly within Maxʼs mind, ancient and calm, but tinged with a faint unease.

”I know this dark aura,” Xolo said slowly, each word deliberate. ”There was a long period where the Tower was pure—no such presence existed here. But then, one day, without warning and without my awareness, this aura appeared. It emerged right here, at the entrance of the Chamber of Concepts.”

Max listened intently, his frown deepening.

”I tried everything,” Xolo continued, his tone heavier now, as if recalling a frustration that had long haunted him. ”I searched the tower, traced every corridor, every artifact, every inch of the stone and spirit veins that make up this place… but no matter how I looked, I couldnʼt find the source. Itʼs like the aura doesnʼt come from anywhere—it simply is.”

The spiritʼs voice fell silent for a beat, letting the weight of those words settle.

Max heard Xoloʼs words, and the frown on his face deepened, his brows creasing so hard it looked like they might never relax. Something hidden inside the Tower—something even the tower spirit couldnʼt find—meant only one thing. ʼSomeone had intentionally concealed something here.ʼ

That thought alone sent a shiver down his spine, but it was quickly followed by a storm of questions swirling in his mind. ʼWho was this person? How powerful did they have to be to bypass the awareness of Xolo?ʼ

The tower wasnʼt some ordinary structure—it was a sentient monument of laws, forged with ancient purpose and guarded by a spirit that didnʼt sleep, didnʼt rest, and was always watching.

Unlike Max, who had to direct his consciousness and concentrate on specific areas to sense anything through the tower, Xoloʼs awareness was spread across every inch of it. Every floor. Every room. Every artifact and soul inside it. He was the eyes, the will, the very breath of the Tower of Truth.

And yet—someone had slipped past him. ʼNot just entered unseen,ʼ Max realized, ʼbut placed something—or became something—that could emit such a dark, familiar aura… without triggering a single ripple in Xoloʼs perception.ʼ It wasnʼt just alarming. It was terrifying.

Max stood still, lost in thought for a moment as he processed everything. ʼIf even the tower spirit couldnʼt locate the source of that aura, he reasoned, then thereʼs no way I can find it either. Not now, at least.ʼ He let out a silent breath and shook his head, brushing away the lingering thoughts. ʼIʼll look into this later… when Iʼm stronger, when I know more.ʼ

With that silent promise to himself, he turned back toward the glowing entrance. The bluish light shimmered before him like the surface of a gentle lake, rippling with ethereal energy. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, his figure slowly consumed by the light until he vanished completely from the tenth floor.

The next moment, he found himself engulfed in darkness—absolute, suffocating darkness. There was no sound, no wind, no sensation underfoot. It was a void, empty and vast.

But then, like a whisper in the silence, four familiar sensations rushed over him at once. First came the searing heat of flames, wild and untamed. Then, the violent crackle of lightning, fierce and destructive. The third was the sharp, focused edge of a sword, cold yet precise. And finally, the strange, expansive pull of space itself—mysterious, boundless, and ever-changing.

ʼI can feel all my auras here,ʼ Max thought, eyes narrowing in concentration. ʼOr rather, three auras and one concept.ʼ He paused, focusing deeper, feeling the connection between himself and each force. ʼMy sword aura… itʼs already knocking on the door of becoming a concept.ʼ That realization settled like a stone in his chest. ʼThen I should start there—comprehend the sword concept first.ʼ

The instant that thought solidified, the world around him responded.

The darkness split apart.

Light burst into existence—crimson, violent, and heavy with the stench of blood. In the blink of an eye, Max was no longer in a void but standing in the middle of a war-torn battlefield. The sky above was dark and stormy, torn with red clouds and howling winds.

All around him were swords—hundreds of thousands of them—stabbed into the scorched earth as far as the eye could see. Some were simple and rusted, others ornate and glowing with power, but each one radiated a terrifying, deadly aura.

They werenʼt just weapons; they were graves, memories, echoes of battles long past. Max stood still, heart pounding as the weight of this place pressed against him. ʼThis… is the path of the sword,ʼ he realized.