---
title: "Chapter 1457: Garry Heron’s Belief!"
slug: "ch-1464"
novel: "Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100"
number: 1464
views: 0
likes: 0
wordCount: 1042
createdAt: "2026-04-15"
---

But not everyone welcomed Max’s ascent with admiration.

As the projection displayed his steady advance beyond ten thousand six hundred miles, the viewing platform was filled not only with awe but also with tension. For some, his progress was inspiring. For others, it was unsettling.

Garry Heron’s expression had grown increasingly dark.

"I think his journey will end around ten thousand eight hundred or ten thousand nine hundred miles," Garry said coldly, his gaze fixed on the projection.

Several elders nearby turned to look at him. His tone carried certainty rather than speculation.

Matthew Grimes shifted his attention toward Garry, a faint smile appearing on his face.

"Hm. Why do you think that will happen?" Matthew asked calmly. "From what I see, Max currently holds the highest probability of reaching the twelfth layer."

"Highest probability?" Garry let out a short, mocking laugh. "Matthew, are you serious?"

His voice carried open derision.

"You should know better than anyone that the highest chance ever recorded to reach the twelfth layer in the entire history of the Black Dragon Clan belonged to the Saintess of that era. She had fully awakened her Imperial Bloodline. Her bloodline was complete. Even then, she failed to enter the twelfth layer."

He turned slightly, his eyes narrowing.

"What makes you believe that someone who merely possesses a progenitor grade bloodline can surpass the record of a Saintess who had reached the peak of her lineage? That twelfth layer has been deemed unreachable for those at the Rebirth Realm."

His words carried weight. The Saintess he referred to was not merely talented. She had been regarded as one of the most brilliant figures in the clan’s history.

Garry sneered faintly.

"Max is nothing more than a mortal disciple who happened to obtain the Sword of the Sword Sovereign by luck. Aside from that, what truly distinguishes him? His bloodline is not supreme. His foundation is not unmatched."

He folded his hands behind his back, his voice growing sharper.

"I would not be surprised if he relied on some unorthodox or shameful method to reach this depth within the Path to Eternal Flames. When he attempts to push toward the twelfth layer, whatever trick he is using will fail. That is when reality will reveal itself."

The resentment he had suppressed earlier was now fully exposed.

From the moment Max surpassed Zain’s record, Garry’s pride had been wounded. The Heron Family had briefly stood alone in glory. Now that distinction was gone.

Matthew Grimes did not react immediately. He observed Garry’s expression calmly before replying.

"You are entitled to your view," Matthew said evenly. "But the Path to Eternal Flames does not reward trickery. It tests comprehension, will, and endurance. Whatever methods you suspect, the flames would have already rejected them."

Victor Veron interjected thoughtfully.

"Whether we favor him or not, his progress is undeniable. He has already surpassed ten thousand six hundred miles. That is enough to show his talent and potential."

Henry Lumin remained silent for a moment before speaking.

"Comparing him to the Saintess of the past may be premature," he said carefully. "But dismissing him entirely would also be unwise."

"Humph."

Garry Heron did not continue the argument. He simply turned his gaze back toward the projection, his expression rigid and unreadable. Outwardly, he appeared calm, but the firmness in his eyes revealed an unshakable conviction.

He truly believed that Max would not enter the twelfth layer.

There was no elaborate reasoning behind that belief, no complex deduction of variables or hidden calculations. It was something deeper, rooted in his understanding of bloodlines and hierarchy. In his mind, the foundation of one’s lineage determined the height one could reach.

A progenitor grade bloodline, no matter how refined, could never compare to the fully awakened Imperial Bloodline of a Saintess.

The Saintess of that era had stood at the pinnacle of talent within the Black Dragon Clan. Her Imperial Bloodline had been completely awakened, her control flawless.

She had possessed overwhelming authority, yet even she had failed to cross the boundary into the twelfth layer while at the Rebirth Realm.

To Garry, that was proof enough.

If someone with such a supreme lineage could not step into the twelfth layer, then there had to be other hidden requirements beyond mere strength and comprehension. The twelfth layer was not simply a higher stage. It was a threshold guarded by principles that perhaps only those destined for it could overcome.

He folded his hands behind his back and exhaled slowly.

Max’s current performance was impressive, he could not deny that. Surpassing ten thousand five hundred miles within the eleventh layer was already extraordinary. Yet in Garry’s view, that achievement did not place Max in the same category as the legendary Saintess.

Bloodline mattered.

Foundation mattered.

And in his heart, Garry was convinced that the twelfth layer demanded something more than what Max possessed.

The flames on the projection roared fiercely as Max continued walking deeper into the eleventh layer. Around him, elders and family heads watched in silence, their thoughts divided between anticipation and skepticism.

Garry’s gaze remained steady.

No matter how far Max advanced within the eleventh layer, he believed that the boundary to the twelfth would remain unbroken.

That was not arrogance in his mind.

It was certainty.

Just at that moment, Max crossed ten thousand seven hundred miles.

The number glowed upon the projection like a brand seared into history.

Garry Heron’s brows twitched almost imperceptibly as he saw it. His earlier certainty remained outwardly intact, yet the tension in his jaw tightened.

He had just predicted that Max’s journey would begin to falter before reaching this depth. Instead, the young disciple continued forward with the same steady rhythm that had carried him through the earlier thresholds.

Within the eleventh layer, the flames had grown ferocious beyond imagination. They did not merely burn. They pressed down like a sovereign decree, crushing space itself. The ground beneath Max’s feet trembled faintly with each step as though protesting his presence.

The chaotic flame laws here were no longer chaotic in the ordinary sense. They were refined, compressed, almost sentient in their resistance.

Yet Max did not stop.

Ten thousand seven hundred and fifty miles.

Ten thousand eight hundred miles.