Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 - Chapter 593

Chapter 593: Star Flame Art
After parting ways with Silus, Klaus, and Nortan, Max wandered alone through the strange hall filled with countless mirrors. The floor beneath him was smooth, almost like glass, and the faint hum of energy lingered in the air.

The walls were lined with mirrors of all shapes and sizes, their surfaces occasionally flickering with unnatural light.

Max approached one, standing directly in front of it. For a moment, it showed his reflection clearly—his white hair, calm expression, and sharp eyes.

But in the next instant, his image vanished completely, leaving only a foggy, colorless void behind the glass. A faint, earthy scent drifted from the mirror—subtle but unmistakable.

Max narrowed his eyes slightly. ‘This mirror is releasing wood aura,’ he thought, stepping back. It wasn’t his field of mastery, so he left it behind and walked toward another.

This time, the mirror was cold and dull. It did nothing, offered no response to his presence, no aura, no image. He moved on again.

At the third mirror, he saw something. The surface shimmered faintly, and a vague silhouette began forming—something sharp, something fast. A piercing sensation pricked at his senses, not like a blade, but still deadly. ‘A spear concept?’ he guessed. It wasn’t what he was looking for.

He kept moving, trying mirror after mirror. Some responded a little, others not at all. Then he reached it.

This mirror radiated an oppressive heat, its surface pulsing faintly with flickers of red and gold. Max’s eyes sharpened. The heat was real, tangible, and the concept it carried was unmistakable—flames. Not ordinary fire, but something deeper, more refined, like a concept flame had taken form within.

Without hesitation, Max raised his hand and touched the surface of the mirror. The moment his skin made contact, the glass rippled like water and began to dissolve away. Within seconds, the mirror no longer reflected anything—it had transformed into an open path.

Max stepped through.

He found himself in a small, isolated room, devoid of distractions. Its walls were smooth stone, yet the temperature inside was warm, even welcoming.

In the very center of the room sat a lone table, carved from red-hued rock, glowing faintly as if absorbing ambient flame energy. Atop it rested a single box—modest in size, unadorned, but thrumming with hidden power.

Max took a slow breath, eyes fixed on the box. ‘That must be the treasure,’ he thought, his instincts sharpening.

But Max didn’t immediately reach for the box. His eyes narrowed, scanning the area with caution.

He could see a thin, almost invisible wall of energy surrounding the table—some kind of forcefield, humming faintly with a resonant pressure that warned against approaching carelessly.

Just in front of that field sat a glass sphere, roughly the size of a human head, placed delicately on a stone pedestal. Max stepped closer and studied it carefully. The sphere was transparent and smooth, but within it was nothing—an empty void, like it was waiting for something.

He reached out and touched the cool surface with his palm. The moment he did, a tiny speck of black flame sparked inside the glass, flickering like a dying ember. Max’s eyes gleamed with understanding.

‘So I need to light it up? Feed it my flames?’ he mused silently. Without wasting another second, he placed both hands on either side of the sphere and used his black flames.

Black flames—wild, chaotic, and burning with a dark majesty—burst forth from his hands, engulfing the sphere in a hellish blaze.

But to his surprise, the sphere barely reacted. No matter how much black flame he poured in, the speck inside grew painfully slow, like a stubborn ember refusing to ignite fully.

It was like the sphere wasn’t merely absorbing the flames—it was consuming them. His vast reserves, his endless flow of cursed fire, all of it was being drained like water into an unfillable abyss.

Still, Max didn’t flinch. He didn’t pull away. He gritted his teeth and focused harder, maintaining a constant stream of flames. Time passed. First a few minutes. Then an hour. Two. His arms trembled slightly from the sustained output, and sweat beaded down his brow. But his flames never ceased.

Only after nearly three full hours did the interior of the glass sphere begin to shift. The black speck had grown—slowly, steadily—until it now filled the entire sphere like a miniature sun of darkness, pulsing with power.

The moment it filled completely, a loud hum echoed through the room. The forcefield around the table wavered—crackling once—and then vanished into thin air.

Max exhaled sharply and lowered his arms, stepping back slightly as the oppressive energy faded. The path to the box was now open. The test was complete.

Max stepped up to the table, his footsteps slow and deliberate, the air still warm from the lingering black flames that had filled the glass sphere just moments ago. Now that the forcefield was gone, he reached out and gently lifted the small box resting in the center of the table.

The surface was smooth, metallic, and warm to the touch—almost as if it had been waiting for him.

With a soft click, he opened the lid. Inside was a single, thin book with a cover that shimmered faintly like embers glowing beneath ash. Engraved across the surface in silver letters were the words: Star Flame Art.

“Star Flame Art?” Max murmured aloud, curiosity flaring in his eyes as he flipped open the first page. The moment he read the initial lines, his brows lifted in surprise.

It wasn’t just any technique—it was a Legendary Rank flame technique. As he read further, the technique’s concept began to unfold in his mind, sparking his interest even more.

According to the introduction, the Star Flame Art allowed one to transform ordinary or elemental flames into what were called Star Flames—a unique variation of fire imbued with weight. Not just metaphorical weight, but literal mass and pressure.

Flames that could crash down with the heaviness of stars. In combat, these flames would become a terrifying force, each strike carrying not just heat and destruction, but also a gravitational force that could smash through defenses and crush enemies like falling meteors.

Max’s eyes gleamed with intrigue as he reached the end of the first page. The most fascinating part was that while the Star Flames would gain immense weight in combat, the user wouldn’t feel the burden at all.

It would be like wielding a star with the ease of a feather—only the enemy would suffer its full wrath.

“This is… a damn cool technique,” Max whispered, a rare, genuine smile forming on his face. He gently closed the book and stored it away with care.

There would be time later to study it in depth, refine it, and perhaps master it. For now, the Citadel still had more secrets to reveal—and he intended to uncover every last one of them.

After securing the Star Flame Art, Max stepped back through the shimmering surface of the mirror and returned to the strange hall where countless mirrors, paintings, and murals lined the endless walls.

The moment he emerged, the surreal quiet of the place wrapped around him once more—an eerie calm where no roof shielded the sky, and yet everything was brightly lit, bathed in an unnatural glow despite the overhead darkness.

He exhaled slowly and glanced around.

‘One down,’ he thought, his gaze sweeping over the array of mirrors stretching into the distance. ‘Now to find others that resonate with me.’