Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

As the towering lightning giant behind Rey completed its formation, each of its ten arms crackled violently with overwhelming power. In each hand, bolts of lightning began to materialize—thick, seething with energy, and thrice the size of Max himself.

The very air trembled under their weight, humming with a destructive rhythm. If even one of those bolts struck him, it would mean instant defeat—if not death, then certainly heavy injuries. But Max didn't step back. He didn't tremble. His eyes gleamed with sharp clarity.

"Go!" Rey shouted, his voice thunderous. And in the next instant, like a cascade of fury, the giant unleashed its arsenal. Tens upon tens of lightning bolts shot forward in unison, creating a wall of death that surged across the arena toward Max.

Yet Max stood tall.

"Good," he muttered under his breath, his lips curling into a grin of anticipation.

In his vision, the world slowed down. The chaos of the incoming storm was peeled back, frame by frame. Dozens—hundreds—of purple lightning bolts surged toward him like vengeful spears, but to him, they were frozen in motion.

His Three Dimensional Body had activated to its peak. The bolts' trajectories shimmered like glowing lines in his sight, their paths etched across space, giving him just enough of an opening, just enough time.

And he moved.

Max dashed forward with fluid, impossibly precise movements, slipping between deadly gaps in the storm. A bolt sliced past his left shoulder, sizzling the air just inches away. Another scraped past his thigh, but never touched him.

With every step, his body twisted and dipped, his footwork an elegant dance of survival. His breathing was calm, his heartbeat steady, his every motion calculated.

He ducked low beneath three bolts that came from above, then leapt diagonally through a narrow space between two converging strikes. Purple light flashed around him, lighting up his face with every near miss—but never once did it land.

The spectators couldn't believe their eyes. All they saw was Max weaving through a deadly net of lightning, moving like a phantom, like water flowing through cracks in a wall of death. He didn't stop.

In fact, he was getting closer. With every dodge, every sidestep, every breath, Max was closing the distance between him and Rey.

'His mastery of the Ten Hands of Lightning God isn't high enough,' Max thought calmly as he continued weaving through the barrage of lightning bolts. Each strike roared with fury, purple lightning flashing dangerously close to his skin, but Max's steps never faltered.

He twisted, ducked, stepped, and turned—his movements effortless and instinctive, like a seasoned dancer in the midst of a storm. The bolts might have been deadly to anyone else, but to him, they were simply lights in motion, already calculated and predicted by his Three Dimensional Body.

If it had been him using Lightning God's Descent, the arena would've looked entirely different. Not only would the number of bolts unleashed from each hand be far more than what Rey had conjured, but their speed would also be on an entirely different level.

Max knew that clearly—his bolts would strike with such precision and velocity that even a peak Master Rank would barely have time to react, let alone dodge. It wasn't arrogance. It was understanding. Experience.

And there was another flaw.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he caught Rey's still figure standing beneath the towering lightning giant. 'Locked in place…' Max realized instantly.

Rey had anchored himself at the center of the formation, using his full concentration to maintain the giant's form. That meant he couldn't move—not even an inch. The moment he did, the entire construct would collapse, and all his efforts would vanish in an instant. That limitation alone was enough to turn the tide of battle.

Max had no such issue. When he used the Lightning God's Descent, he could still move freely across the battlefield. His lightning giant would follow him, acting as an extension of his will.

Not only that—his accuracy was enhanced to a terrifying level, thanks to the advanced perception granted by his Three Dimensional Body. His aim would never be off. His strikes would never miss.

And that was the difference between someone who had barely learned a technique… and someone who had mastered it.

'Looks like he only got his hands on the technique recently,' Max concluded with a flicker of amusement in his eyes. It made sense—Rey was probably a seed participant chosen early on by the Thunder Monarch Hall, and perhaps this technique had been passed to him not long ago.

For someone who hadn't had the time to truly train with it, Rey was doing well… but in Max's eyes, it was still child's play. You couldn't just copy the technique and expect to wield it like a sword master with a borrowed blade.

Learning was one thing. Mastery was another.

"You are going down!" Max roared as he finally closed the gap between himself and Rey, his voice echoing across the arena like thunder crashing in the clouds.

But the moment he entered within twenty meters of Rey, the pressure intensified. The closer he got, the denser the barrage became. The Lightning Giant behind Rey didn't pause for even a moment.

With each passing breath, more bolts of devastating purple lightning surged forth, flashing with killing intent, exploding like war drums around Max's form.

And yet, Max didn't retreat. His pace slowed as the storm grew thicker, but he kept advancing, weaving and slipping through the lightning bolts with precision so sharp it looked like fate itself had parted the bolts for him.

Rey's face twisted in disbelief. His technique wasn't something a regular genius could stand up to. His lightning bolts were supposed to be relentless, chaotic, overwhelming—but Max wasn't being overwhelmed. He wasn't even breaking a sweat. Dodging at this level… it was humiliating.

"I don't believe you can dodge them all!" Rey roared, his pride shattering. Pushing his technique beyond what he had ever tried before, he forced the lightning giant to conjure twenty bolts in each of its ten hands.

For a single breath, the entire sky seemed to explode in a storm of violet. Two hundred bolts lit up the world above the arena and then rained down like divine punishment, each one screeching through the air, twisting through space with terrifying speed and raw destructive power.

Max's expression hardened. His instincts screamed at him that this wave wasn't like the previous ones. It wasn't just an attack—it was desperation weaponized. A flurry designed to break him.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

The lightning bolts crashed toward him with the fury of a collapsing sky, painting the entire arena in purple and white. But Max didn't stop. His breathing slowed. His vision sharpened.

And as the first of the lightning bolts neared, his foot moved—then his shoulder twisted—then his head ducked. His Three Dimensional Body didn't just guide him anymore; it possessed him entirely.

The storm came.

Max dodged one bolt—then two—then three, but the sheer volume of lightning coming his way became overwhelming. Two hundred bolts rained down with relentless ferocity, and even with his Three Dimensional Body, even with his supernatural reflexes, the pressure was immense.

The air crackled and howled with energy, arcs of purple splitting the arena sky like divine wrath. Sweat trickled down Max's temple—not from fear, but focus. He was at his limit dodging them individually.