Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 Chapter 1436 Isabella's Pride!

"Are you Max, the one who took away the Sword of the Sword Sovereign?" Isabella questioned, coming to a halt just a few paces away from him. Her words flowed steadily, though a clear spark of interest hid just below the surface. The nearby fires swayed lightly around her, her demeanor peaceful but far from fragile.

Max lifted his hands in a relaxed motion. "I suppose that would be me."

His voice carried no hint of bragging. He mentioned it like the event was just another thing, not a big deal or insignificant. Still, everyone in the outer areas knew how massive that feat truly was. Claiming the Sword Sovereign's legacy wasn't for regular followers—most couldn't even get close.

Isabella examined him closely. Her eyes stayed fixed and searching, like she was trying to look past his steady exterior and right into the core of his power.

"How did you do it?" she whispered. "How did you get the sword to yield to you? Even my Imperial Bloodline couldn't manage that."

Max shook his head gradually.

"There's a gap between making a sword bend by force and letting it recognize you on its own," he answered. "I didn't crush it. I didn't break its spirit. I just waited in front of it and let it choose."

Isabella's eyebrows furrowed a bit.

"So you're saying the sword chose you freely, instead of you taking it by force?" she probed, her voice tinged with doubt.

Max gave a steady nod.

"The sword possesses its own essence," he went on. "Try to control it harshly, and you'll fight against what it is. Let your purpose align with its, and it decides if you're fit."

Isabella stayed quiet for a second. The fires crackled gently nearby, throwing dancing shadows over her reflective face. She didn't rush to counter his idea, even if his explanation shook her view of what happened.

Her Imperial Bloodline was built for ruling and overpowering. That's how its power worked. But maybe that same commanding force had sparked a quiet pushback from the sword against her.

After a short breath, she let out a soft sigh and changed the topic.

"What if we compete in a race?" she suggested, a small grin creeping back onto her face. "Let's find out who can push further into this test."

Max glanced at her, a touch of surprise in his eyes.

"Why race against me?" he questioned with a light exhale. "See Zain Heron over there. He's heading toward the fourth pillar already. If you want to test your limits, go after him."

Isabella's grin widened, but her gaze turned keener.

"I get that he's strong," she confessed. "His Blazing Dragon Sovereign Body packs a punch, and his link to the Source Bloodline is almost flawless."

She held back for a beat before going on, her tone dropping a notch.

"But looking at him, he seems like a roaring fire—fierce and controlling, but easy to read. Looking at you, though, it's something else."

Max kept his face even, but his focus tightened.

"When I look at you," Isabella continued deliberately, "it's like facing something that's still holding back its true form. There's a hint of threat there. It's quiet, but real. You might not show massive power on the surface, but you come off like a hunter lurking in the dark."

She spoke evenly, without blame, just sharp observation.

"Zain doesn't make me feel that way," she noted. "He's tough, but direct. You're not."

Max offered a subtle smile, laced with a bit of sarcasm.

"You think highly of me," he remarked casually. "I'm flattered."

Inside, though, a small wave stirred.

Her senses were keener than he'd expected. She couldn't grasp the whole truth of his bloodline, but she picked up on its vibe. She sensed the sharp side hidden under his cool front.

Isabella cocked her head a little.

"Well then," she pressed once more, her smile back with a subtle dare, "want to race?"

The fires danced between them, like they were waiting for his reply.

"Nah, I'm not into it," Max said evenly, shaking his head.

His rejection came without pause, and he didn't bother making it nicer with manners. He sounded laid-back, almost uncaring, as if her idea meant nothing special to him.

Isabella's face tightened for an instant.

On the outside, she held it together. Her stance didn't waver, and the calm energy she gave off didn't burst into obvious anger. But a quick flicker crossed her eyes before she steadied her look.

Deep down, though, it hit harder.

Isabella had always held her head high.

Even prior to her Imperial Bloodline stirring to life, she'd owned a bold assurance from her gifts and family roots. Among those her age, she'd risen above nearly all without much strain. Once named the budding Saintess of the Black Dragon Clan, that assurance had grown into pure certainty.

The Imperial Bloodline wasn't just about promise. It marked her as fated for greatness. Elders honored her. Followers looked up to her. Some advanced experts showed her deference way beyond her current power level.

With time, all that respect molded how she saw herself inside. She got used to being the focal point. She got used to others sizing themselves up to her.

And right now, a follower faced her who had brushed off her offer without a single worry.

To Isabella, it wasn't plain apathy.

It felt like rejection.

A subtle warmth built in her core, unrelated to the Path to Eternal Flames.

She'd nursed a quiet ache long before this meeting. When word got out that the Sword of the Sword Sovereign had picked a realm-bound cultivator over her, the trained Saintess who couldn't secure it, a soft shame had lingered.

She'd never shown it outright. She'd kept her poise and grace. But the truth lingered.

A blade that ignored her had selected him.

That fact alone had rattled her ego.

Here in the Path to Eternal Flames, she'd aimed to turn this challenge into a showcase of the clear divide between them. She wanted to prove that even if the sword favored him, her pure might and base outshone his.

Yet his brush-off cut deeper than she'd guessed.

It suggested he saw no point in comparing to her.

It suggested her dare wasn't even worth his time.

Isabella's hands clenched lightly at her sides before easing open. Her face settled into serenity, but her eyes now gleamed with a harder glint.

"Fine then," Isabella stated, her voice shedding its prior playfulness for gravity, "what if we make a wager right here?"