Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 - Chapter 425

Chapter 425: Success
His mind raced as he visualized the structure of space itself—not just as a backdrop to reality, but as something alive, something tangible, something he could grip and rip apart.

His Three Dimensional Body flickered, resonating with his thoughts as he drew in every last thread of space aura he could muster. He didn’t think of survival anymore—he thought of dominion.

With laser focus, Max concentrated all his gathered space aura to a single point—his index finger. He forced it there, condensing the abstract, unstable, chaotic essence of space into a tiny tip of his mortal body.

Immediately, the consequences came. His skin began to peel—not shred, not tear—peel, as though reality itself was trying to remove the part of him now defying its laws.

Blood burst from his fingertip in thin, red streams, dancing in the bluish air like droplets refusing gravity.

His finger flickered in and out of reality, vibrating violently, as though it couldn’t decide whether to exist or vanish entirely.

The pain was blinding, sharp enough to scramble his thoughts, to make his vision blur—but Max held on. He clenched his jaw so tightly his teeth ached, every nerve in his body screaming, yet he didn’t flinch.

And then, when he felt it reach the edge of collapse, when he knew his body couldn’t handle even a moment more, he struck.

“It’s now or never,” he whispered through blood-stained lips—and slashed.

His finger cut through the air like a blade through silk. Instantly, a dark blue line appeared, jagged and ominous, slicing the very sky open.

It was thin at first—just a seam—but then it began to widen, growling softly like a beast awakening. The space around it groaned, twisted, and buckled as the line expanded, becoming a massive tear in space that pulsed with raw, terrifying energy. The air screamed. The void howled.

And then, like a monstrous gaping maw tearing open in the fabric of existence, the massive space tear Max had unleashed widened to its fullest—its edges trembling with unstable, raw dimensional force.

In the blink of an eye, it pulled the incoming storm of smaller spatial tears into itself, as if they were mere fragments of dust drawn into a black hole.

One by one, then all at once, the countless deadly rifts rushing toward Max were swallowed whole, consumed in a single, all-devouring gulp that left no trace of their existence behind.

The tension in the air shattered. The pressure pressing against his lungs disappeared. And in the wake of that violent absorption, the massive tear itself began to close, slowly folding back in on itself like a wound being sealed by the universe, its jagged edges smoothing into stillness before vanishing completely.

The sky above him, once howling with chaos, now shimmered with eerie calm. The vast blue expanse that surrounded him returned to stillness, like a storm that had raged and passed, leaving only silence behind.

‘It’s done,’ he thought, a whisper in his fading consciousness as his body hovered weakly in the now-silent, endless blue world. The storm of space tears was gone, devoured by the abyss he had torn open himself. But the price… the price was steep.

Surviving the strike head-on had already pushed him to the edge—had it not been for the passive protection of his Dragon Scales, layered over his body like a hidden armor of resilience, he knew he would have been obliterated on the spot, scattered through the void like dust.

Even with that protection, his bones ached with fractures, his muscles twitched with strain, and his nerves burned like fire laced through his veins. But what truly brought him to his knees wasn’t the injury—it was exhaustion.

The sheer toll of comprehending the first level of a Concept, and then manifesting it in the form of that massive, all-devouring space tear, had drained him to the very core.

Every reserve of energy, every drop of strength, every flicker of aura had been pulled out of him, leaving nothing behind. Just empty. It had taken everything from him to create that one devastating slash through space, and now, his limbs trembled, heavy as stone, his vision blurring into streaks of blue and white. His breathing slowed.

The silence wrapped around him like a cocoon, peaceful, almost gentle. And as his eyelids fell, and his thoughts dimmed, he let go without resistance, his body drifting weightlessly through the void, leaving behind only the faint ripple of space in his wake.

—

Outside the Pillar of Divine Appraisal, silence had taken root so deeply it felt as though the air itself had forgotten how to move. The experts, warriors, and prodigies from all three races—humans, elves, and demons—stood frozen, their gazes locked on the massive black monolith, where the list of names shimmered with ethereal light.

And then… it happened.

A name appeared where no one expected it to. Max Voidwalker—glowing, bright, and unmistakable—was now carved into the first line, the very top of the pillar, a place once reserved for only three legendary names, names spoken with reverence throughout the Lost Continent’s long history.

Now, a fourth name had joined them.

For a moment, there was no sound—no gasps, no whispers, no scoffing rebuttals—only wide eyes and disbelieving stares.

But the real shock hadn’t yet begun.

Because as everyone stood there, processing the impossible, they noticed something else—something that sent a chill rippling through the crowd like a wave crashing through still water. Max’s name was still glowing.

And everyone knew what that meant.

The assessment wasn’t over. He was still inside. Still being judged. Still climbing. That realization hit harder than any lightning bolt. People from all three races—arrogant demons who once scoffed at humans, proud elves who had called themselves the guardians of ancient talent, and humans themselves who often felt like the underdogs—stood united in numb disbelief.

Max Voidwalker had not only reached the summit of historical talent—he had surpassed nearly every genius ever recorded on the continent. And yet… the pillar wasn’t finished with him.

No one dared to speak. Because deep down, they all understood something terrifying: if this boy’s name was still glowing… then perhaps even the Pillar of Divine Appraisal didn’t yet know how far he could go.

Among the crowd of demons gathered on the tenth floor, watching the glowing monolith in stunned silence, one figure stood apart—Korbin, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, a deep frown carved into his otherwise calm face.

His demonic aura simmered beneath his skin, agitated and restless, barely held back by his clenched control. His crimson eyes were fixed on the top of the Pillar of Divine Appraisal, where the name Max Voidwalker now gleamed brilliantly, etched into the first line—the highest line, the one even most demons had never dared to dream of reaching. And worse… it was still glowing.

Korbin’s jaw tightened, his expression darkening with every second the name refused to fade.

At this moment, something sharp and bitter twisted in his gut—not fear, but regret. Regret that he hadn’t killed Max earlier, back when he had the chance—when the human was weaker, still finding his footing.