Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 - Chapter 383

Chapter 383: A Concept
Max stopped in his tracks and met Elliot’s gaze directly.

The golden-haired elf stood with royal confidence, his posture straight, arms behind his back, chin slightly raised like he was looking down at someone beneath him. His group of elven retainers stood behind him in silent solidarity, their auras cold and sharp.

Max narrowed his eyes, studying them.

Something was off.

He looked closer—not at their strength, but at their reaction to him. Or rather… the lack of it.

Strange…

Earlier, when he’d stood beside Lenavira, the surrounding elves had reacted immediately to his presence. Their blood stirred, their expressions had shifted, their instincts felt him, even when he hadn’t released a hint of power.

But these elves? The ones following Elliot?

Nothing.

No subtle tension.

No subconscious reverence.

No unease in their stance or eyes.

‘They’re not reacting to me at all,’ Max thought, his gaze lingering on Elliot a moment longer. ‘So either they’re different… or they can’t sense it like the others could.’

He didn’t like it.

Something didn’t add up. Either these elves were blocking their perception on purpose… or they weren’t the same kind of elves at all.

But he didn’t show it on his face.

Instead, Max smiled—calm and composed.

“Oh? So now you’re trying to stop me?” he asked coolly, locking eyes with Elliot.

Elliot’s smile didn’t falter. “I’m only curious. You came in here, made a bold declaration in front of every race in the tower, and now you turn your back like it was just casual conversation? You act like a coward.”

Max chuckled softly.

“If I wanted to prove myself now,” he said, “I would’ve dropped every one of your followers in the arena one by one.”

He leaned in slightly, voice calm but carrying weight. “But I’m not in the mood to waste time on empty pride. Not today.”

Elliot’s smile twitched.

But Max didn’t wait for a response.

He turned back to Aelric. “Let’s go.”

But just as Max and Aelric began to walk away, a sudden, suffocating pressure crashed down on Max like a falling mountain.

It was overwhelming—dense, sharp, and laced with killing intent.

It came from Elliot.

The golden-haired elf hadn’t moved an inch, but the air around him pulsed with power. A pure, oppressive force emanating from someone at the absolute peak of the 10th level of Seeker Rank.

Max felt it instantly—every inch of it pressing down on his body.

The tower’s rules forbade combat outside the arena, but this wasn’t technically a fight. It was a display of strength, a psychological attack. There was no rule preventing someone from using their aura to suppress another.

Elliot’s voice followed the pressure, cold and smug.

“We can’t fight outside the arena,” he said, “but no one ever said anything about pressure.”

He narrowed his eyes, sneering. “If you can’t even withstand this much, then you’re not just arrogant… you’re a fool.”

But Max didn’t stop walking.

He didn’t so much as flinch.

His steps remained calm, steady, unfazed—like the crushing weight pressing down on him didn’t exist at all.

He didn’t look back. Didn’t respond.

He simply kept moving, stride smooth and composed, until he crossed the threshold of the tower and disappeared from sight.

Elliot’s eyes twitched.

“Damn that kid!” he hissed under his breath. But he quickly regained his composure, straightening his collar with a smooth gesture.

He turned to one of the elves in his entourage—a lean figure with sharp, narrow eyes and the quiet air of someone trained for the shadows.

“Go,” Elliot said flatly. “Find out everything you can. Why Lenavira is interested in that human. I want every detail—no matter how small.”

The elf gave a small nod, and without a word, his body blurred and vanished into the crowd like mist scattering into wind.

Elliot turned back toward the arena, his golden eyes narrowing in thought.

‘Lenavira… it doesn’t matter if you gather the help of a human or even make deals with demons. In the end, you’re still going to lose,’ he thought darkly.

And with that, he turned on his heel and strode out of the tower.

The only ones left were the humans led by Chris.

He hadn’t moved during the entire encounter.

He stood with his hands behind his back, his expression calm and unbothered, his blue hair gently swaying in the tower’s soft air currents.

‘So that’s him,’ Chris thought, his gaze distant yet focused. ‘Max Morgan. The one Uncle Lucas mentioned.’

His eyes gleamed faintly, reflecting a glint of interest.

Without saying a word, he turned and walked out of the tower as well—his footsteps echoing softly behind him.

Stepping out of the Tower of Truth, Max exhaled slowly, letting the chaotic energy and tension of the arena fade behind him.

The sun was still high, casting a warm glow across the city below. People bustled about, oblivious to what had just unfolded inside the tower. Max walked in silence for a moment, then turned to Aelric.

“So…” he asked, tone calm but serious, “is it possible to comprehend a Concept inside the tower?”

It was the question that had been weighing on his mind the most.

Right now, all his laws—sword, lightning, flame, darkness, and more—were stuck. No matter how hard he pushed himself, they refused to break past Level 3, the Aura stage. It was as if he’d hit a wall, and no amount of training could push him through.

And he knew why.

‘Comprehending the initial level of a Law is one thing. Advancing it… that’s something else entirely.’

He’d already spent what felt like years refining his Level 3 Sword Aura. Every day, every moment. But no matter how much effort he poured into it, the result was always the same.

Nothing.

That left him with only one option.

He needed a source.

Just like in the temple—where he had managed to comprehend Level 2 Auras from the source—it wasn’t training that gave him a breakthrough. It was immersion. Exposure. Revelation through contact with a true origin of the auras itself.

‘Laws are strange,’ Max thought, walking beside Aelric. ‘Once you comprehend them, they’re yours… but growing them is like chasing shadows in the dark—unless you find the flame they came from.’