Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 Chapter 1481 Soul Fragments

Joe shifted his focus from the hovering displays briefly and glanced at the seven family leaders positioned close by, ensuring they were all focused on him before proceeding. "Everyone understands that from the initial level up to the twenty-ninth, anyone climbing the combat tower encounters only shadowy forms," he explained, his voice taking on the gravity of someone sharing deep, thoughtful insights into the tower's design.

"These entities are precisely as they seem—summoned shadows lacking any true essence, created to challenge a climber's reactions and the direct use of their power, yet holding no real background of wisdom or insight. A strong enough method can overpower them exactly due to the absence of anything beyond the cultivation rank the tower grants them."

He stopped for a beat, allowing the difference to sink in before advancing. "However, starting from the thirtieth level, everything alters completely. Beyond the thirtieth floor, climbers no longer confront mere shadows. Instead, they meet soul fragments from actual people, cultivators who themselves climbed this tower in their past lives and, during their path, chose intentionally to deposit a portion of their soul within its structure, to be kept and deployed as a combatant for all subsequent climbers. These were genuine individuals. They possessed authentic fighting history, true skills, real gut feelings honed through years of cultivation and conflict, and those traits don't vanish just because only a fragment remains rather than the full soul."

He scanned the assembled family heads with a look that indicated he viewed his upcoming words as the heart of the matter. "That's exactly why I struggled to accept that Max could defeat these soul fragments," he stated.

Crossing his arms, he directed his eyes back to the screens, where Max positioned himself solo at the edge of the thirtieth floor, with the altered atmosphere of the room bearing down on him from every side.

"Let's observe," Joe murmured softly, displaying the steady poise of a person who had anticipated this exact instant long before the climb started, "if that blade and this young man can manage an adversary that truly counters with thought."

The seven family heads observed the screens with a focus that differed sharply from the relaxed way they had viewed the prior levels. Their trust in Max remained unshaken in every regard, yet trust and intrigue weren't identical, and the thirtieth floor marked a boundary that none could regard without some investment.

They had witnessed Max shatter shadowy creations using a skill that weaponized the earth beneath, and they had savored the thrill as each prediction Joe made about the lower floors turned out overly cautious.

Yet soul fragments formed an entirely separate class of foe, and even these family heads, who together agreed that Max evaded standard evaluation, now bent forward toward the feed with a vigilance the first twenty-nine floors hadn't required.

They yearned to witness his approach to an entity that had once lived, one bearing the echoes of true encounters and genuine struggles waged by a flesh-and-blood person who had traversed that tower solely on the power of their own cultivation and determination. No matter Max's next move, they planned to scrutinize every aspect closely.

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Max positioned himself in the middle of the thirtieth floor and remained patient, his breaths even and his hold on the sword relaxed to permit swift action in whatever way needed.

Then his foe appeared, and Max froze in place.

This wasn't a shadow. It wasn't a dark assembly pieced from external power and shaped into a basic silhouette for practicality. What faced him on the thirtieth floor looked like a full human with sharp details and a clear physique that the lower shadows had never matched, a form with clear traits and a visible frame, clad in the tattered remains of what had evidently been cultivator robes, their borders frayed and patterns blurred by the eras dividing this remnant from its original owner.

The form held itself with the stance of one used to enduring harsh spots without wavering, its balance set with the instinctive accuracy of extended practice, and the energy emanating from it held a distinct flavor far removed from the blunt, straightforward force the tower's creations had emitted.

"So those shadowy figures are done," Max whispered, his gaze sweeping over his rival with the precise, inventory-like scrutiny he applied to any unfamiliar sight.

"Indeed," his foe responded. "No more of those pointless creations."

The response came in a measured, complete voice, bearing the tone and depth of something once produced by a living voice box, and Max stiffened completely—not from battle prep, but because his thoughts had just processed an unforeseen element without any ready reaction.

He fixed his stare on the figure ahead for an instant that lingered a bit beyond his plan.

"You can speak?" he inquired, the query carrying raw honesty, devoid of his usual controlled calm, just the straightforward wonder of facing something previously unimaginable.

"Of course I can speak," his foe answered, with the straightforward directness of addressing a somewhat redundant point.

"How does this work?" Max pressed, his gaze sharpening as he sought to integrate the scene into a structure that could handle it.

The shadows from below had stayed mute, driven like instruments were driven, unable to do more than fulfill their designed role. They hadn't watched him, hadn't reacted to him, hadn't acknowledged him as anything but an objective to remove.

This figure now performed something wholly other. It interacted with him, heard his statements and formed replies tailored to their exact nature, and that gap between Max's thirtieth-floor expectations and this reality demanded a brief adjustment on his part.

His foe gave a slight smile. "I am a soul fragment," it explained. "What stands here isn't a construct. It isn't formed from this tower's power or molded from the surrounding spiritual energy in the room. I am a leftover from a true person, a soul portion intentionally deposited in these confines by the individual I originated from, maintained to act as a fighter for each climber arriving at this level."

It halted briefly, and resuming, its tone held the serene, factual air of narrating a past long accepted. "My name is Darian Voksh. I was a real living being. Even though this is just my soul fragment here, the fact that I am here and talking to you means my body is out there somewhere in the vast Divine Realm."

Max absorbed the words, then one detail sparked his interest. "You offered a part of your soul to this tower on purpose—why?"