Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 Chapter 1631 A Dud?

Standing perfectly still before the towering mountain, Max slowly raised his sword, his gaze fixed and unwavering. He could now distinctly perceive the subtle friction between his sword art and his personal concept – a clear misalignment where the two forces refused to coalesce, resisting each other at every turn. Yet, Max remained resolute.

A quiet conviction began to bloom within him. He understood that the Saint Origin Sword Art, on its own, was insufficient. It yearned for something more profound, a catalyst to propel it beyond its inherent limitations. Only by infusing his unique concept into the art could its true potential be unleashed.

Taking a deep, steady breath, he advanced.

The instant his sword descended, he channeled the entirety of his being into that singular, decisive strike. The Saint Origin Sword Art flowed with power through the blade, closely followed by his concept, the two elements clashing ferociously under his meticulous control. The resulting energy pulsed unstably, reluctant to meld, but Max’s sheer willpower compelled their fusion.

His strike impacted the mountain.

And then… nothing.

No sound, no tremor, not even a visible alteration marred the mountain’s surface. It remained as stoic and immense as ever, seemingly unaffected, as if his attack had never occurred. An oppressive stillness descended, weighing heavily upon him.

Even Max’s composed expression flickered as a seed of doubt took root. For a fleeting moment, he questioned his own ability. Had he failed to grasp the core essence of the sword art? Was his strike simply too feeble to leave even the faintest trace?

"Is my sword strike a dud?" Max mused with a frown, observing the mountain’s unblemished face.

Then, a subtle shift occurred.

A line materialized.

It was impossibly thin, almost non-existent, originating from the precise point of his blade’s contact. Silently, it extended forward, tracing across the mountainside with an uncanny accuracy. Max’s eyes tracked its path as it stretched further and further, reaching distances far beyond his normal visual range.

Still, there was no outward reaction.

The mountain remained unmoved. The air was undisturbed.

Everything appeared exactly as it had before.

Max stood motionless. A peculiar sense of unease permeated his chest, his instincts screaming a warning that what his eyes perceived was not the complete truth.

Without a second thought, he activated his Dimensional Sovereign Body, allowing his perception to delve deep into the heart of the mountain.

In that instant, clarity dawned.

Max’s pupils constricted drastically.

His breath hitched.

The mountain was already severed.

Not cracked. Not damaged.

Completely split in two.

The cut was so surgically precise, so utterly final, that the two halves remained perfectly aligned, as if they had never been separated. There was no catastrophic collapse, no tumbling debris, no sign whatsoever of conventional destruction. The blade had passed through with such overwhelming force that the mountain hadn't even registered the act of being cut.

For a stunned moment, Max’s mind went utterly blank.

A profound shock surged from within him, far exceeding any anticipation. This was not merely a sword strike; it was an event that defied comprehension, a display of power on a level he had not yet attained. The realization struck him with immense force.

This truly felt like an art wielded by the Sword Saint himself.

A faint shiver traced its way down his spine as the profound weight of this truth settled in his mind. Even with his current strength and understanding, he had only scratched the surface of this technique’s true capabilities.

Slowly, Max lowered his sword.

His voice, though outwardly calm, held an undertone of deep, unshakeable resolve.

"So this… is the true power of the Saint Origin Sword Art."

The silence that followed Max’s declaration hung heavy and thick in the air, as if the world itself was struggling to comprehend the magnitude of what had just transpired.

Then, the mountain offered its response.

A low, distant rumbling began to emanate from its massive form, subtle at first, almost imperceptible without intense focus. The hairline fracture Max had etched across its surface began to widen, gradually revealing a reality concealed beneath the unnatural stillness.

The mountain began to divide.

The movement was unhurried, deliberate, and absolute, as if the final outcome had been preordained long before its manifestation. The two halves pulled apart with flawless precision, the separation extending from Max’s position to a distance so vast his enhanced senses could not fully encompass its end.

There was no violent upheaval, no ensuing chaos, no sound of fracturing rock.

Only a clean, irrefutable separation.

Max observed the spectacle unfold, remaining perfectly still. His expression was serene, yet his eyes held a profound depth, reflecting the immense weight of the event he had just witnessed. Although he had already perceived the truth with his Dimensional Sovereign Body, seeing the mountain physically sundered delivered an impact of an entirely different magnitude.

This was not destruction.

This was something infinitely more terrifying.

Before he could delve further into this chilling realization, a cold, emotionless voice echoed through the void.

[Damage Evaluation Complete]

The voice momentarily ceased, appearing to process information far exceeding conventional capabilities, before resuming with a sequence of evaluations.

[Analyzing Depth of Impact…]

[Analyzing Range of Effect…]

[Analyzing Energy Consumption…]

[Analyzing Structural Disruption…]

Each utterance seemed to carry a peculiar gravity, as if the system itself found it challenging to fully articulate the implications of the action just performed.

Max maintained his silence, his grip on the sword unwavering, his gaze fixed forward. He comprehended that this trial assessed more than mere brute strength; it delved into something considerably more sophisticated—judging precision, control, and the intrinsic nature of the technique itself.

The results began to materialize.

[Weapon Trial: Sword Path]

[Participant: Max Morgan]

[Technique Used: Saint Origin Sword Art]

[Damage Assessment: Absolute Severance]

[Penetration Depth: Complete]

[Range of Effect: Beyond Measurable Parameters]

[Energy Efficiency: Perfect Conversion]

[Control and Precision: Flawless Execution]

The data settled into place with a quiet sense of finality, yet the system's assessment was not yet complete.

A brief interlude followed, feeling disproportionately lengthy.

Then, the ultimate evaluation materialized.

[Final Score: 100/100]

[Evaluation: Supreme Grade]

[Result: Perfect Completion]

For an instant, silence enveloped everything once more.

Max observed the panel without a word, his expression inscrutable, though a subtle alteration occurred within his eyes. A perfect score was anticipated, and that strike prompted a slight smile from Max.

Then, as if reacting to an unseen stimulus, the panel flickered anew.

The system's voice returned, now tinged with a faint distortion previously absent.

[Hidden Condition Detected]

[Performance Exceeds Standard Limits]

[Re-evaluating Score…]

The panel's illumination wavered slightly as the numerical values began to shift.

[Final Score: 120/100]

[Evaluation: Transcendent Grade]

[Result: Limit-Break Completion]

[Reward Tier: Highest Inheritance Unlocked]

The new outcome solidified, emanating a presence significantly more commanding than before.

Max's eyes narrowed slightly as he noted the transformation, a quiet comprehension dawning within him. A score surpassing the established maximum was unconventional for a controlled trial. This was no longer a simple validation of skill; it represented an acknowledgment of something transcending the system's inherent limitations.

"I suppose employing the Sword Saint's own sword art does have its advantages," he mused.

He lowered his gaze briefly, his thoughts composed as the weight of this realization settled upon him.

When he looked up again, his demeanor had returned to a state of calm, yet an resolute and unyielding determination now lay concealed beneath that placid exterior.

His fingers tightened infinitesimally around his sword's hilt as he spoke in a low, steady tone.

"Even so, this Saint Origin Sword Art and my own concept remain in conflict. It will require considerable time before I can integrate my concept with the sword art seamlessly, without any clash."