Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 Chapter 1373 A Sword with a Will

"Okay, I'll give it a shot," Max declared, drawing in a steady breath, his face steady but intent.

The onlookers around him became more and more intrigued about the level of weapon he would end up claiming. In particular, Carl and Laura kept their gazes locked on him. They weren't just regular outer disciples; they ranked among the elite at their stage, and that was exactly why they grasped the rarity of this chance.

Neither of them had ever received the honor of picking any three treasures freely from the Treasure Hall right after joining. All their gear had come from long years of efforts, quests, and rivalries, whereas Max got this shot the instant he entered the Thirty Third Hall.

'As far as I see, the higher I climb, the heavier the burden gets,' Max pondered while easing into position, flexing his knees a bit. 'And after I launch up, there's no do-over jump. That initial bound seals the deal.'

Once his mind cleared, Max sprang into action.

He ignited every one of the twelve hundred Draconic Essences inside him simultaneously. A profound, thundering force raced along his bloodstream, and right away, dark dragon scales burst forth over his flesh, layering precisely as his Dragon Scales Transformation activated. The atmosphere near him quivered subtly, sending out a clear wave that made a few close disciples instinctively retreat a pace.

But Max kept pushing forward.

'Vein of Origin, unleash fully,' he commanded inwardly while letting loose the total might of his initial Divine Vein.

Boom.

A fierce blast erupted from under his feet, splintering the floor a touch as his form rocketed skyward like a fired projectile. The weight in the weapon area ramped up sharply, yet Max shattered through it with raw power, his frame slicing the thick atmosphere as if it were mere opposition to overcome.

He cleared the first layer of weapons in a flash.

Then the second.

The third.

When he surged beyond the fourth and fifth layers, the faces of the spectators had shifted entirely.

"He's moving way too quick," Carl whispered, shock flashing over his typically even features.

Laura gave a gradual nod next to him, her stare glued to Max's climbing silhouette. She'd never witnessed anyone slicing through the initial five layers so effortlessly. For typical disciples, even hitting the third layer demanded huge strain and setup, but Max had soared by half the weapon levels like they weren't even there.

Right then, Max's form blasted past the sixth layer and stabbed right into the seventh, his rise giving no hint of slowing. In a heartbeat, he neared the zone overhead, where the weight grew noticeably denser and the nearby weapons shook lightly from the force of his path.

In that instant, Elder Soren's look altered at last. The constant frown he sported dissolved, giving way to real gravity. "Going at this speed," he stated deliberately, his gaze pinned on Max's ascending shape, "he could very well hit the ninth layer."

That statement rippled a clear jolt through Carl and Laura.

No disciple across the full annals of the Black Dragon Palace had managed to attain the ninth layer of the Treasure Hall. Not outer ones, not inner ones, and not even core ones. That's why the blade hovering at the peak had stayed unclaimed for ages, serving more as an emblem than a real choice.

And presently, a fresh recruit who hadn't even entered the Rebirth Realm was displaying potential to defy that enduring barrier.

The idea alone set their pulses racing.

Max's form finally pierced the seventh layer, but the second it did, the weight crashed down on him like a tumbling peak. His climb's velocity plunged abruptly, his frame creaking beneath the abrupt surge in opposition.

The atmosphere seemed to harden around him, aiming to smash him downward, but the drive he'd gathered held firm. With teeth ground tight and unyielding concentration, Max shoved himself into the eighth layer.

The second he breached it, the weight hit a whole new extreme.

It wasn't merely intense anymore. It was choking. Each part of his form felt squeezed, his rise dragging until it almost halted. For a short while, it seemed Max might hang there, caught between progress and defeat.

"Just one last surge, that's all," Max growled past gritted teeth.

Dark flames blazed fiercer at his back, forming wings sharper than ever before. With a mighty beat, he propelled himself higher again, ripping free of the unseen grip trying to pin him down. Bit by bit, he pressed on, until finally, his body entered the ninth layer.

The golden sword lay just a grasp away now.

Its glow was blinding from this near, a dazzling but dignified shine that carried an age-old and commanding vibe. The weight here was total, way beyond any trial Max had faced prior, but he showed no pause. He stretched out his arm, digits reaching for the handle.

Right as his tips were set to wrap around it, the sword twitched just a fraction.

Max's palm seized nothing but void.

His eyes flared wide. "Does it possess its own awareness?" The truth hit him right away.

Before the weight could shove him down, Max beat his wings once more, edging his body nearer. He stretched again, resolve blazing in his stare. But the sword responded once more, floating off with clear purpose, like it was probing him, judging if he truly deserved to wield it.

Down below, quiet had seized the entire Treasure Hall. Nobody uttered a word. Nobody even drew breath too hard.

Every gaze stayed riveted on the solitary form defying a blade that had spurned every cultivator prior.

"You reject me?" Max scowled initially, but as the idea sank in, a swift insight flooded him and his face eased into calm. He halted his forced climb and instead freed the complete force of his fifth level concept of the Severing Sword.

In that moment, a keen and intangible will swept across the Treasure Hall like a hushed gale, making the very air shudder as if sliced open and mended anew. Even the arms in the lower tiers quaked softly, responding to that supreme will that aimed not just for ruin, but for division on the deepest plane.

"How much longer will you linger in this Treasure Hall, gathering dust?" Max inquired firmly, his words rising effortlessly. "Hidden amid endless blades, revered but idle, awaiting some unfit soul to claim you. Don't you yearn to slice through whatever you crave, to sever destiny and cause, to slash the very rules that chain this realm?"

He drifted a touch nearer in the sky, his stare steady, his resolve keen enough to stab through existence. "Join me, and I'll let you cleave anything. I'll bear you into boundless clashes and hone you with blood, grit, and rebellion. As one, we'll etch a route so keen that even the Heavens will pause before blocking us."

The golden sword quaked fiercely. Its shine wavered like it drew breath after endless ages. The essence of Max's fifth level Severing Sword concept flowed over it like an unseen wave, not aggressive, but compelling, harmonizing flawlessly with the blade's core being.

The sword stopped pulling back. Rather, it lingered there, shaking as though wrestling with a choice that would shape its fate.

Max's mouth formed a subtle grin as he voiced his closing words, his voice soft but final. "Come. We'll do more than fell foes. We'll break bonds, demolish rules, and forge a trail where your name alone will send shivers through all adversaries the instant it's uttered."

That sealed the deal.

The sword shook harder still, its golden gleam bursting once before it darted ahead like a ray of first light, bridging the gap in a flash. Max made no move to evade or ready himself. He just held out his hand.

His digits locked onto the hilt.

The instant his grip took hold of the sword, the smothering weight that had burdened him dissolved entirely, as if it had been an illusion. The stifling might of the ninth layer scattered like fog in the sun. The dark flames encircling his form quieted, his wings folding back smoothly as his shape started to lower.

Clutching the golden sword tightly, Max descended gradually to the earth, departing a Treasure Hall wrapped in awed hush and the clear feeling that something long asleep had at last selected its wielder.