Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Another layer of runes flared ahead, humming faintly in the air. These weren't for concealment—they were motion detectors, designed to sense fluctuations in mana and intent. A single mistake here and every patrol in the city would swarm him.

But Max was calm. His body melted into stillness, his breathing shallow as he observed the rhythm of the formation. The threads pulsed in a steady pattern, intervals of silence between each beat. Timing it perfectly, he slid forward during the lull, his invisible form weaving past like water through a sieve.

Minutes stretched into hours as he crept through the overlapping defenses. Where others would see nothing, Max saw everything. Every rune formation that was meant to keep him out was like an open book in his eyes. He adjusted circuits without breaking them, bent light without disrupting its flow, and slipped into blind spots that no ordinary expert could perceive.

Finally, his feet touched the stone of the outer wall. He pressed a hand against it, closing his eyes briefly. That tug in his chest—the familiar call of bloodline—throbbed stronger now. Lenavira. She was here. Somewhere within this hidden city, her presence pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat buried beneath layers of earth.

Max exhaled softly. 'Good. I can use this to guide me.'

Letting his Blue Soul map the threads of her bloodline, he pushed forward. His invisibility still cloaked him as he scaled the wall in silence. His hands gripped the stone with practiced ease, slipping past the sentries who patrolled the battlements above. One guard yawned as Max passed right beneath his feet, no more aware of him than of the wind.

Dropping lightly into the city proper, Max straightened and scanned the streets. The place was alive with activity—Void Soul disciples in black robes, Thunder Monarch Hall members in lightning-inscribed armor, and the occasional drone humming faintly above, its violet lens sweeping over the cobbled streets.

None of them noticed the invisible intruder moving among them.

That faint tug in his chest pulled him forward. Lenavira's bloodline was like a beacon only he could perceive, whispering to him, urging him toward her. It grew stronger as he moved deeper into the city, down narrow alleys, past guarded courtyards, and across shadowed plazas where masked individuals in black hoods stood like silent statues.

Max's eyes narrowed. 'So she really is here. And they've hidden her well.'

His pace quickened ever so slightly, his steps silent, his presence nonexistent. Guided by the bond of bloodline, cloaked by invisibility, and shielded by mastery over runes, Max had breached the "impenetrable."

Currently, Max stood in the shadows of the corridor, his breath even, his body completely cloaked under the folds of his invisibility skill.

Before him loomed the Obsidian Obelisk, its black surface shimmering faintly with embedded runes that crawled like living veins across its sides. It pulsed with restrained power, a beacon of authority in this hidden city.

Even from outside, Max could sense it—his bloodline tugged faintly, whispering that Lenavira was close. Inside. Locked behind walls of spiritsteel and layers of formations.

'So this is where they've kept you…' he thought grimly, his sharp eyes tracing every rune glow. The structure wasn't just stone—it was a prison, a fortress. The obelisk was carved with overlapping rune arrays of surveillance, detection, and suppression.

Each rune flared whenever someone came close, only dimming when recognized fingerprints, mana signatures, and retinal scans confirmed the intruder as "authorized."

Max's Blue Soul scanned them with cold precision, unraveling their flows, finding the minute pauses between each pulse where the formation was most vulnerable.

Just then Max saw a group of guards were coming in his direction with his Three Dimensional Body.

He crouched lower, silent as mist, as a patrol of Void Soul Tower experts marched by. Their black and crimson robes brushed the stone floor, weapons strapped to their backs.

Max held his ground, his blue soul restraining his aura rendering him as a shadow within a shadow.

The leader of the group paused, glancing around with suspicion, before moving on. Max didn't even blink.

Minutes later, two wardens approached the obelisk gates. Each wore Thunder Monarch insignia—crackling lightning tattoos that glowed faintly on their forearms. They stopped before the entrance, pressed their hands against the smooth wall, and muttered something.

The wall came alive, spreading out a golden circle of runes. The two wardens leaned forward, letting the scan pass across their retinas, and only then did the great gate dissolve silently into itself, leaving a shimmering opening.

Max narrowed his eyes, absorbing every detail of the unlocking sequence. 'Fingerprint, eye scan, mana resonance… layered perfectly. There's no breaking through with brute force. Timing is the key.'

He followed them in. His footsteps were soundless, his presence nonexistent. Inside, the obelisk was darker still, hallways lit only by thin strands of luminescent runes snaking across the walls. The air smelled of iron and old stone, oppressive, heavy, filled with faint echoes of screams that seemed trapped in the walls themselves.

Patrol teams moved constantly, their boots striking rhythm in the corridors. Max paused often, pressing himself against shadowed corners, letting squads pass by only inches from him.

Once, when a lone guard lingered, muttering and lighting a cigarette of spiritweed, Max picked up a pebble from the floor and flicked it lightly across the opposite corridor. The faint clink drew the guard's suspicion away, long enough for Max to slip through a side passage like a phantom.

Further inside, he reached a sealed door guarded by three men. These weren't ordinary wardens—their robes bore the crest of the Void Soul Tower and their aura pressed heavily, each of them high-level Legend Rank.

Max stilled, crouching behind waiting for an opportunity to move again.

The three wardens stood at the sealed door, their voices carrying just enough to reach Max's ears.

"Prisoner's been shifted again," one muttered, his tone sharp with annoyance. "Third floor. Deep chamber. They're calling it the 'Lotus Cell' now."

The second gave a short, derisive laugh. "Lotus Cell, Lotus Cage—doesn't matter. No one breaks into this place."

The first leaned closer, voice dropping to a near whisper. "Not just some girl. Her bloodline… it unsettles even the elders. They say she's tied to him."

Silence fell for a beat. Then the third spat on the stone, his voice cold. "Max Morgan. If that brat sets foot here, he'll die screaming. Between the Tower hounds and the Monarch dogs, he won't last a breath."

A faint 'click' sounded. One of the runes nearby flickered—just for an instant—as Max's suppressed aura brushed it too close. A guard's head snapped up.

"What was that?" His hand went to the hilt of his blade, eyes narrowing at the shadows. The others tensed.

Max stilled. Not a breath, not a twitch. His body melded into the rune pillar, Blue Soul locking down every stray wisp of energy inside him. Seconds dragged like hours.

The guard stepped forward, scanning the corridor. His gaze passed a hair's breadth from Max's hidden form before the flicker died. He grunted, shaking his head. "Tch. These damned runes spark at the wrong times."

The others muttered in agreement, relaxing again. Their footsteps echoed as they resumed their watch.

Max's jaw clenched hard enough to ache. 'Lotus Cell. Third floor.' The bloodline tug in his chest flared like fire. 'Lenavira… I've found you.'

Soon the three wardens moved away from there.

Using the opportunity, Max slipped away as silently as he had arrived, weaving past another squad of Thunder Monarch experts carrying sparking weapons. Every breath he took was measured, every step calculated between rune pulses and guard rotations.

His Blue Soul and his Three Dimensional Body worked tirelessly, mapping out the entire structure in his mind, each rune and patrol charted as though the obelisk itself was an unfolding puzzle.

And with every step closer to the third floor, the pull of his bloodline grew stronger—like a thread of fire in his veins pointing him directly to her.

'I'm close. Just hold on, Lenavira. I'm coming.'