---
title: "Chapter 1135: A Graveyard of Swords"
slug: "ch-1141"
novel: "Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100"
number: 1141
views: 0
likes: 0
wordCount: 1066
createdAt: "2026-04-15"
---

The inner region of the secret domain was unlike anything Max had seen before. The air itself felt heavier, saturated with layers of power that constantly shifted and intertwined. The ground no longer held the violet hue of the wasteland.

Instead, the landscape was a vast mosaic of crystalline plains, floating boulders, and shimmering lakes that reflected fragments of ancient energy. Every step forward caused faint ripples in the air, as if the entire place was alive and aware of his presence.

The deeper Max went, the more he felt the subtle pull of divine energy. The oppressive pressure of the place wasn’t meant to harm him but to test him. It was as though the land itself wanted to see how far his will could go before it broke.

The map Lord Igris had given him served as a guide only in a general sense. It showed the boundaries of the regions and the rough direction toward the core, but it didn’t reveal any of the specific trials or landmarks that filled the inner region.

The locations of the trials seemed to shift with the will of the domain, appearing and disappearing like mirages. It quickly became clear that even the best maps here were only approximations.

Max stopped near a ridge where the ground turned translucent, showing faint streams of golden light flowing beneath his feet. He studied the map again, but it remained unchanged—just faint glowing lines that outlined the shape of the domain.

"It only shows the outline," Max murmured to himself, his tone calm but thoughtful. "The rest, I have to find on my own."

He could already feel what the purpose of this region was. The air pulsed with familiar fluctuations—the kind that resonated with one’s comprehension of concepts. It reminded him of the moments when he pushed himself to understand the laws of lightning, flames, space, and severing sword.

The realization struck him with clarity. The trials here weren’t physical. They weren’t about strength or survival like in the outer region.

They were about mastery.

Every step into this place seemed to draw out the concepts within him. His sword concept stirred faintly, responding to the currents in the air. His spatial sense expanded without his will, and even the faint spark of lightning in his veins seemed to hum with energy. It was as if the very atmosphere was alive with the essence of countless laws, constantly shifting between creation and destruction.𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

He walked forward, observing the world around him with calm curiosity. The sky was fractured into streaks of color, divided between gold, silver, and deep blue. Floating platforms shimmered in the distance, each surrounded by strange phenomena—storms of flame, collapsing air pockets, or waves of crystal mist. He could tell that each one of them was a separate trial, formed from a particular law or concept.

From what he understood, these trials were designed to deepen one’s comprehension. The domain seemed to react to the one who entered it, creating situations and illusions tailored to their path of mastery. For him, it would undoubtedly draw upon his understanding of lightning, space, sword, and fire—the four major concepts he had already comprehended to varying degrees.

After several days of travel, the landscape began to change once again. The crystalline terrain gave way to barren soil covered with layers of white ash. The air grew heavy, filled with a faint metallic scent. Each step he took made the ground echo like the ring of a blade striking steel. The sky above dimmed to a lifeless gray, and strange whispers carried through the wind—soft, almost imperceptible, but unmistakably the cries of countless swords.

Max stopped. His eyes scanned the horizon, and what he saw made him pause completely.

Before him stretched a vast plain filled with swords—millions of them. Some were broken, their blades buried halfway in the ground. Others stood tall and proud, piercing the heavens themselves. The ground shimmered faintly under their presence, covered with a thin layer of divine energy that clung to the air like fog. Each sword emitted a faint hum, as if resonating with one another in endless mourning.

It was a graveyard of swords.

The deeper he looked, the more ancient the place seemed. The swords varied in style and size—long swords, curved sabers, twin blades, even rusted daggers—all placed in perfect alignment, forming invisible patterns that his eyes could barely comprehend. The silence here wasn’t lifeless; it was sacred, reverent.

A strange feeling washed over Max as he stepped into the graveyard. His hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword. The moment his fingers brushed against it, he felt the faint pull of resonance. The sword in his hand vibrated slightly, responding to the presence of something ancient and familiar.

"This feeling..." Max murmured softly, his eyes narrowing as he looked around.

The atmosphere here was unique—both oppressive and tranquil. Every breath he took filled him with both awe and dread. His body remembered this aura, even if his mind didn’t recognize it at first. Then suddenly, realization struck him like lightning.

"This place..." he whispered. "This is where I first comprehended the Concept of Severing Sword."

The memory came back vividly. The vast expanse of ancient swords, the aura that demanded absolute clarity, the blade that once stood in the center of a ruined temple inside the Tower of Truth. He remembered kneeling there, his hand trembling as he grasped that old sword, feeling as though he was being taught by the will of something beyond life and death itself.

Back then, it was just a fragment—a single sword tomb, hidden within the Tower of Truth. And now, standing here, surrounded by countless swords buried in silence, Max understood. That place had only been a fraction of what he was seeing now.

"Blob," Max said under his breath, his tone thoughtful. "This... this can’t be coincidence."

The small, ethereal voice in his head immediately responded, filled with a rare excitement. "It’s not! It’s definitely not, Max!" Blob’s tone almost trembled with energy. "I can feel it. The aura of sword concept here—it’s the same as before, but much stronger, much older! This isn’t just a random graveyard. This is the Tomb of the Sword Saint."

"The Tomb of the Sword Saint..." Max repeated, his gaze steady as his golden eyes reflected the endless field of blades before him.