Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

"Who are you?" Max asked, sweating. The pressure he felt from this man was so overwhelming that he almost felt like prostrating before him. It wasn't instinctual, but a deep, primal urge from the very bottom of his heart screamed for him to kowtow and worship the man standing in front of him.

'Damn, this man is very dangerous. I better get out of here,' Max thought, secretly planning his escape.

"Defeat me," the man said, pointing his sword at Max.

As soon as the words left his lips, the man vanished from his position and reappeared before Max, slashing down at his shoulders.

Max's eyes widened in shock. If not for his Three Dimensional Body skill, he wouldn't have been able to follow such a fast attack with his eyes.

Max used his Sword Aura to the maximum and countered with an upward slash.

CLANG!

Wind howled and bellowed as their swords collided, sending shockwaves in all directions. A figure was blasted back at breakneck speed, crashing into a charred tree.

The figure was Max.

"Cough…" He coughed up a mouthful of blood as he collided with the tree.

'He's too strong!' Max thought, feeling pain coursing through his entire body. Even though he could battle those at level 10, his body and physique were still at level 4. It didn't matter if he could fight at that level—if even one of their attacks landed, he'd be finished.

Slowly standing, Max warily stared at the man. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice cracking from the pressure the man was exuding.

"Defeat me," the man said before attacking again, thrusting his sword forward, sending hundreds of small black dragons toward Max.

Max gritted his teeth and immediately used the level 100 Flurry Strike, thrusting his sword forward one time, two times, three times... a hundred times in quick succession.

With each thrust, five sword shadows were released. In no time, five hundred sword shadows collided with the hundreds of small black dragons from the man's sword.

The sword shadows and the black dragons collided, causing black flaming explosions between Max and the man, forcing Max to retreat, his feet sliding back five steps before he came to a stop.

"My attack is useless…" Max muttered, feeling the strength of the man. Although the man's displayed strength was still at level 10, the constant pressure he emanated made Max tremble in fear.

'I want to use the Divergent Slash attack that I made up with the Sword Aura while training all those years in the Dimension of Time but I need a little time to use that attack and I don't think this guy will give me that.' He pondered his options.

"Your sword is strong, but it's lacking something of great value," the man said, making Max frown.

"Lacking something?" Max frowned, glancing at his blue-glowing sword. "What is it lacking?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Max had also felt before that there seemed to be missing something from his Sword Aura. Although he couldn't tell what it was, he knew it was of utmost important to it.

"An intent," the man replied calmly. "Your sword has perfect form, mastered over years of practice, but it is lacking intent."

"Intent?" Max pondered the word, trying to understand the connection between intent and his sword.

Seeing the confusion on Max's face, the man's expression softened slightly, though his eyes remained sharp. He spoke again, his voice calm but firm. "When someone wants to kill you, their intent is driven by the desire to end your life. That's killing intent. A monster, on the other hand, will attack with beastly hunger or rage—that's bestial intent. But when it comes to wielding a sword, the intent is different."

He paused, watching Max carefully as he let the weight of his words settle. "Intent is what drives your sword. It's more than just swinging a blade. Without intent, your sword is just a tool, not an extension of your will. If you draw your sword without any purpose or feeling behind it, you'll never truly understand the deeper laws of the sword. You'll remain stagnant in your growth as a swordsman."

Max stood still, absorbing the gravity of the lesson. The man's words were sharp and clear, and for the first time, he began to sense that the sword was not just an instrument of battle—it was a reflection of the mind, the heart, and the soul.

"An intent that drives my sword... an extension of my will..." Max repeated the words quietly to himself, his mind sinking deeper into contemplation. As he pondered the meaning behind the man's teachings, something inside him stirred. It was as if the very essence of swordsmanship, something he'd never truly understood before, was beginning to click into place.

Without realizing it, Max entered a state of enlightenment. His movements slowed, and he raised his sword. He began to swing it aimlessly at first, not with strength, power, or even his Sword Aura, but with a sense of fluidity, as if testing the air, feeling the rhythm of the world around him.

There was no rush in his movements—each swing was deliberate, yet effortless, as if the sword were merely an extension of his own arm.

At first, the air around him seemed still, but gradually, a subtle shift began to happen. A quiet hum echoed from the blade, and a faint aura began to form around the edge of the sword.

As he continued his swings, the aura grew stronger and sharper, as if the sword itself was alive, responding to his deepening understanding.

Max's eyes narrowed slightly, sensing the change. After that, his movements became more confident, more focused, as if the sword was no longer a tool, but an embodiment of his will itself.

In that moment, Max knew he had begun to grasp what the man had been teaching him: the true essence of the sword was not in the blade, but in the intent that guided it.

Max closed his eyes, absorbing everything he had learned just now, before opening them and looking at the man before him. "I am ready," he said calmly.

The man nodded approvingly and swung his sword down in one final slash.

Max took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. There was no hesitation now. He focused, and with a sharp, controlled movement, he brought his sword up in a powerful upward slash to meet the old man's sword.

CLANG!

The two blades met with a resounding crash, the shockwave of the impact vibrating through the air. Max's grip on his sword tightened, and he stood his ground, holding his position firmly. His sword remained steady, unwavering under the force of the blow.

The old man, on the other hand, was slowly pushed back, the force of Max's strike driving him off balance. It was only for a moment, but the sight was enough to make Max feel a surge of pride.

However, just as Max thought he had succeeded, an unexpected and deeply unsettling sound rang in his ears.

Crack!

Max's eyes widened in horror as he saw the surface of his sword begin to splinter. A web of cracks spread rapidly across the blade, the fractures crawling up the steel like veins, until the entire sword shattered with a deafening bang.

The pieces flew in all directions, and Max was sent hurtling backward by the force of the explosion. His body slammed against the ground, the shock of the impact rattling his bones.

"Agghh, that hurts," Max winced in pain, slowly standing up before looking back at the man.

"You passed," the man said before transforming into black flames and flowing back into the cave. "But remember this: what you have learned is just the edge of intent. It needs years of practice before your intent can truly take form." His last words echoed in Max's ears as the black flames disappeared into the cave.

"Whoever you are, I am very grateful for your teachings," Max bowed in appreciation before turning his attention to the cave in front of him.