Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 Chapter 1425 End of the First Trial!

Max gradually calmed his breath, compelling the fierce throbbing in his veins to ease. The impulse had struck without warning, nearly overwhelming his sanity for an instant, like some primordial force within him stirring and straining against his control. Shutting his eyes, he drew in a long breath, suppressing the primal drive that urged domination and consumption.

'I must examine her bloodline more thoroughly,' he resolved silently. 'I have to figure out exactly what it is and the reason for my intense response.'

As he mentally revisited the feeling, unease deepened within him. It wasn't mere desire or intrigue. It was a deep craving.

A raw, all-consuming craving that stemmed not from his rational mind. The moment he detected her bloodline, his own had erupted in a savage vibration, as if identifying a target or maybe something essential to its fulfillment. This response alone weighed heavily on his chest.

'Why else would my bloodline respond so fiercely if it weren't missing something?'

The realization hit him with unexpected force. He had always viewed his bloodline as exceptional, almost demonic in its promise. It bestowed upon him immense power and capabilities that shattered normal understanding. But the ferocity of that impulse hinted at imperfection. It implied that despite its might, what he held was not yet at its peak.

'If absorbing her bloodline could propel mine to a superior level of advancement, wouldn't that represent an unimaginable leap forward?'

The allure hung persistently in the back of his consciousness. He envisioned the rush of might, the metamorphosis, the chance to surpass boundaries that scarcely anyone could aspire to. For a man who had fought through endless perils, spilling blood and striving relentlessly to ascend, the idea was utterly alluring.

But the price?

Max's eyes fluttered open as he released a measured sigh. He knew the true nature of absorption. It wasn't a benign transfer of power. Claiming her bloodline would strip away a vital essence of her being. In the mildest outcome, she'd be left irreparably broken. In the gravest, she'd perish.

His hands balled into tight fists.

'I'm no virtuous hero,' he confessed to himself. 'I've taken lives in the past. I've resorted to harsh measures for survival and growth.'

Still, a boundary remained uncrossed. He had never targeted the blameless purely to hasten his own progress. Distinction existed between battling foes who threatened him and pursuing another solely for their prized possession.

The craving inside him roused once more, subdued yet unrelenting. It murmured that power reigned supreme. It recalled that survival favored only the mighty in this realm. It claimed that doubt equaled frailty.

In a brief lapse, he pictured yielding to that murmur. Seizing what he craved. Gaining greater might without restraint.

His jaw set firmly.

No.

There must exist an alternative path.

Should his bloodline indeed need an element from hers, surely a way existed to analyze it, comprehend it, and possibly mimic or harmonize with it sans her ruin. He had endured thus far not through reckless impulses, but via strategy, foresight, and flexibility.

He would probe. He would watch closely. He would reveal the secret fueling that fierce backlash.

But he refused to devolve into a beast ruled only by appetite.

While Max battled the turmoil in his soul, moments drifted by unnoticed. The bloodline's yearning hadn't entirely faded, but he had confined it to a remote recess of his thoughts, where it couldn't impair his clarity.

His face regained its typical composure, though a faint strain lingered beneath, known solely to him. When he fully composed himself, a full ten minutes had elapsed, signaling the end of the initial test.

The choking force enveloping the space slowly withdrew, even as its residual burden continued to burden many spirits. The enormous dragon skull looming overhead stayed still and voiceless, but the daunting presence it projected had fulfilled its role.

Across the square, numerous disciples sprawled on the floor, their complexions ashen and slick with perspiration, their forms quivering like they'd escaped a horrific ordeal.

Grand Elder Waller advanced, his garments rippling gently in the fading energy breeze. His eyes scanned the surviving disciples with icy command before his tone echoed, firm and absolute.

"Those still on their feet after this time will proceed to the next challenge."

His statement was straightforward, laden with finality. He neither amplified his volume nor revealed sentiment. For him, it was just routine procedure.

"And those who passed out or failed to stay upright during the allotted ten minutes are hereby disqualified."

A profound quiet ensued his pronouncement. Among the downed disciples, some bowed their heads, knuckles whitening against the pavement. Their frames shook, not from the dragon skull's fading might, but from shame.

They had stepped into this test fueled by fierce determination, convinced their Black Dragon Palace heritage coursed proudly in their blood. But confronted by the authentic force from their lineage's origin, they had buckled.

Grand Elder Waller pivoted sharply. "Passers, come with me for the second trial."

He strode ahead at an even pace, and the upright disciples naturally trailed him. Silence prevailed; no one uttered a word. The air brimmed with a mix of reprieve and anxiety, as clearing the first hurdle heralded even tougher ordeals to come.

Max shot a quick look back at the disqualified ones. He noted gritted teeth, shaky grips, gazes brimming with resentment and refusal to yield. For a passing instant, he empathized with their plight. Years of toil weren't meant to end at the outset.

Yet his expression soon grew detached.

The warrior's journey allowed no room for compassion. It required iron resolve and a physique able to bear strains that would shatter the average soul. The dragon skull had unleashed but a sliver of its essence, and that alone had laid bare the frailties in numerous wills.

As Black Dragon Palace members, particularly those bearing the Black Dragon Chaotic Bloodline, withstanding such force ought to be basic. The skull posed no threat. It embodied the legacy of their forebears' splendor.

If they faltered before even a whisper of their heritage's potency, how might they claim its authentic legacy?

Max's stride stayed resolute as he followed Grand Elder Waller. In his thoughts, scorn for the defeated was absent, as was mercy. Power couldn't be pleaded for. It emerged from perseverance, honed in hardship, and validated by endurance.

Individuals unable to face a simple dragon skull's strain were unprepared for the challenges beyond.

And in the expansive Divine Realm, the tests had barely commenced.