Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Chapter 1425  End of the First Trial!

Max slowly steadied his breathing, forcing the violent pulse within his veins to subside. The urge had come so suddenly that for a brief moment it had almost drowned his reason, as though something ancient inside him had awakened and was clawing at his restraint. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, pressing down on the instinct that whispered of conquest and devouring.

'I will have to investigate her bloodline more carefully,' he told himself. 'I need to know what it is and why mine reacted like that.'

The more he replayed the sensation in his mind, the more unsettled he became. It had not been simple greed or curiosity. It had been hunger.

A primal, overwhelming hunger that did not belong to his conscious will. His bloodline had surged with a violent resonance the instant he sensed hers, as if recognizing prey or perhaps recognizing something that could complete it. That reaction alone made his heart grow heavy.

'Why would my bloodline react like that unless it lacks something?'

The thought struck him harder than he expected. He had always regarded his bloodline as extraordinary, even monstrous in its potential. It had granted him terrifying strength and abilities that defied common logic. Yet the intensity of that urge suggested incompleteness. It suggested that what he possessed, powerful as it was, had not yet reached its ultimate form.

'If devouring her bloodline could elevate mine to a higher stage of evolution, would that not be a breakthrough beyond imagination?'

The temptation lingered like a shadow behind his thoughts. He imagined the surge of power, the transformation, the possibility of crossing another threshold that few could even dream of touching. For someone who had clawed his way through countless dangers, who had bled and struggled to rise step by step, the prospect was intoxicating.

But at what cost?

Max opened his eyes and exhaled slowly. He understood what devouring truly meant. It was not some harmless exchange of energy. To take her bloodline would mean taking a core part of her existence. At best, she would be crippled beyond recovery. At worst, she would die.

He clenched his fists.

'I am not a saint,' he admitted inwardly. 'I have killed before. I have done things for survival and for strength.'

Yet there was a line he had never crossed. He had never preyed upon the innocent for the sole purpose of accelerating his own evolution. There was a difference between fighting enemies who sought his life and hunting someone simply because they possessed something valuable.

The hunger within him stirred again, quieter now but persistent. It whispered that strength was everything. It reminded him that in this world only the strong survived. It argued that hesitation was weakness.

For a fleeting second, he imagined surrendering to that voice. Taking what he wanted. Becoming stronger without compromise.

His jaw tightened.

No.

There has to be another way.

If his bloodline truly required something from hers, then there must be a method to study it, to understand it, perhaps even to replicate or resonate with it without destroying her. He had survived this long not by blindly following instinct, but by thinking, planning, adapting.

He would investigate. He would observe. He would uncover the truth behind that violent reaction.

But he would not become a monster driven solely by hunger.

As Max wrestled with the storm inside his heart, time slipped past him without notice. The hunger in his bloodline had not fully vanished, but he had forced it into a corner of his mind where it could no longer cloud his judgment.

His expression returned to its usual calm, yet beneath that calmness was a subtle tightness that only he could feel. By the time he steadied himself completely, ten minutes had already passed, and the first trial reached its conclusion.

The suffocating pressure that had blanketed the area gradually receded, though its lingering weight still pressed upon the hearts of many. The massive dragon skull towering above them remained silent and unmoving, yet the oppressive aura it emitted had already done its work.

Around the plaza, several disciples lay collapsed on the ground, their faces pale and drenched in sweat, their bodies trembling as if they had just survived a nightmare.

Grand Elder Waller stepped forward, his robe fluttering slightly in the faint current of energy that still lingered in the air. His gaze swept across the remaining disciples with cold authority before his voice rang out, steady and unquestionable.

"Those who remain standing until now will move on to the second trial."

His words were simple, yet they carried the weight of judgment. He did not raise his voice, nor did he display any emotion. To him, this was merely a necessary process.

"And those who fainted or could not remain standing within the ten minutes given to you are all eliminated."

A heavy silence followed his declaration. Some of the fallen disciples lowered their heads, their fists tightening against the stone ground beneath them. Their shoulders trembled, not from the lingering pressure of the dragon skull, but from humiliation.

They had entered this trial with ambition burning in their hearts, believing they possessed the pride of the Black Dragon Palace within their veins. Yet under the true pressure of their own bloodline's source, they had collapsed.

Grand Elder Waller turned without hesitation. "Those who passed, follow me to the second trial."

He began walking forward, his steps neither hurried nor slow, and the disciples who remained standing instinctively fell in line behind him. No one dared to speak. The atmosphere was thick with both relief and tension, for passing the first trial only meant that harsher trials awaited ahead.

Max cast a brief glance over his shoulder at those who had been eliminated. He saw clenched jaws, trembling hands, eyes filled with frustration and unwillingness to accept defeat. For a fleeting moment, he understood their feelings. No one trained for years expecting to fall at the very first step.

However, his gaze soon turned indifferent.

The path of the strong was never paved with sympathy. It demanded an unwavering mind and a body capable of enduring pressure that would crush ordinary people. The dragon skull had merely released a fraction of its aura, yet even that fraction had exposed the weakness hidden within many hearts.

As a disciple of the Black Dragon Palace, especially one who carried the Black Dragon Chaotic Bloodline, enduring such pressure should have been fundamental. The skull was not an enemy. It was the remnant of their own lineage's glory.

If they could not withstand even the echo of their ancestral might, how could they hope to inherit its true power?

Max's steps remained steady as he walked behind Grand Elder Waller. In his mind, there was no mockery toward the fallen, yet there was no pity either. Strength was not something that could be begged for. It was forged through endurance, sharpened through adversity, and proven through survival.

Those who could not endure the pressure of a mere dragon skull were simply not ready for what lay ahead.

And the trials were only just beginning in the vast Divine Realm.