---
title: "Chapter 1373: A Sword with a Will"
slug: "ch-1380"
novel: "Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100"
number: 1380
views: 0
likes: 0
wordCount: 1462
createdAt: "2026-04-15"
---

"Alright, I will do it," Max said as he took a deep breath, his expression calm yet focused.

Everyone watching him grew increasingly curious about what tier of weapon he would ultimately obtain. Carl and Laura, in particular, watched him closely. They were not ordinary outer disciples but among the top figures of their level, and precisely because of that, they understood how extraordinary this opportunity was.

Even they had never been granted the privilege to freely select three items from the Treasure Hall upon joining. Everything they possessed had been earned through years of contribution, missions, and competition, while Max had been handed this chance the moment he stepped into the Thirty Third Hall.

’From what I can tell, the higher I go, the greater the pressure will be,’ Max thought as he slowly adjusted his stance, bending his knees slightly. ’And once I am in the air, there will be no second jump. Everything will be decided in that first leap.’

The moment his thoughts settled, Max moved.

He activated all twelve hundred Draconic Essences within his body at once. A deep, rumbling power surged through his veins, and in the next instant, black dragon scales erupted across his skin, overlapping neatly as his Dragon Scales Transformation took form. The air around him trembled faintly, and a visible ripple spread outward, causing several nearby disciples to subconsciously take a step back.

Yet Max did not stop there.

’Vein of Origin, full release,’ he thought silently as he unleashed the complete power of his first Divine Vein.

Boom.

A violent shockwave exploded from beneath his feet, cracking the ground slightly as his figure shot upward like a cannonball. The pressure within the weapon zone intensified dramatically, but Max tore through it with sheer force, his body cutting through the dense air as though it were nothing more than resistance to be broken.

He passed the first layer of weapons in an instant.

Then the second.

The third.

By the time he crossed the fourth and fifth layers, the expressions of those watching had already changed completely.

"He is too fast," Carl muttered under his breath, disbelief flickering across his usually composed face.

Laura nodded slowly beside him, her eyes fixed on Max’s rising figure. She had never seen anyone breach the first five layers with such ease. For most disciples, even reaching the third layer required immense effort and preparation, and yet Max had flown past half the weapon tiers as if they did not exist at all.

Just then, Max’s figure surged past the sixth layer and pierced straight through the seventh, his ascent showing no sign of stopping. In the blink of an eye, he was already closing in on the space above it, where the pressure visibly thickened and the surrounding weapons trembled faintly under the strain of his passage.

At that moment, Elder Soren’s expression finally changed. The habitual scowl he always wore faded, replaced by genuine seriousness. "At this pace," he said slowly, his eyes locked onto Max’s rising figure, "he might actually reach the ninth layer."

Those words sent a visible shock through Carl and Laura.

No disciple in the entire history of the Black Dragon Palace had ever reached the ninth layer of the Treasure Hall. Not outer disciples, not inner disciples, and not even core disciples. Because of that, the sword floating at the very top had remained untouched for years, existing more as a symbol than a true option.

And now, a newly joined disciple, one who had not even stepped into the Rebirth Realm yet, was showing signs of challenging that long standing impossibility.

The very thought made their hearts pound.

Max’s figure broke through the seventh layer at last, but the moment he did, the pressure descended upon him like a collapsing mountain. His upward speed dropped sharply, his body groaning under the sudden increase in resistance.

The air felt as though it had solidified around him, trying to crush him back down, yet the momentum he had built was still enough. With gritted teeth and unwavering focus, Max forced his way into the eighth layer.

The instant he crossed it, the pressure reached an entirely different level.

It was no longer just heavy. It was suffocating. Every inch of his body felt compressed, his ascent slowing until it nearly stopped altogether. For a brief moment, it looked as though Max would stall there, suspended between ascent and failure.

"One final push is all I need," Max muttered through clenched teeth.

Black flames roared brighter behind his back, shaping into more defined wings thane ever. With a powerful flap, he forced himself upward once more, tearing through the invisible restraint that sought to hold him in place. Inch by inch, he advanced, until at last, his body broke into the ninth layer.

The golden sword was now within arm’s reach.

Its radiance was overwhelming up close, a brilliant yet solemn light that felt ancient and sovereign. The pressure here was absolute, far greater than anything Max had experienced before, but he did not hesitate. He extended his hand, fingers stretching toward the hilt.

Just as his fingertips were about to close around it, the sword shifted ever so slightly.

Max’s hand grasped empty air.

His eyes widened. "It has its own consciousness?" The realization struck him instantly.

Before the pressure could force him back, Max flapped his wings again, forcing his body a little closer. He reached out once more, determination burning in his gaze. Yet the sword reacted again, drifting away with deliberate intent, as though testing him, evaluating whether he was truly worthy of claiming it.

Below, silence had completely overtaken the Treasure Hall. No one spoke. No one even breathed loudly.

All eyes were fixed on the lone figure challenging a weapon that had rejected every cultivator before him.

"You do not want me?" Max frowned at first, but as the thought settled, a sudden clarity washed over him and his expression slowly calmed. He stopped forcing his ascent and instead released the full power of his fifth level concept of the Severing Sword.

In that instant, a sharp and formless intent swept through the Treasure Hall like a silent storm, causing the air itself to quiver as though it had been cut apart and stitched back together. Even the weapons in the lower layers trembled faintly, reacting to that absolute intent which sought not destruction alone, but separation at the most fundamental level.

"How long will you remain here in this Treasure Hall, rusting?" Max asked steadily, his voice carrying upward without effort. "Buried among countless weapons, admired yet unused, waiting for someone unworthy to take you away. Do you not wish to cut through anything you desire, to cut through fate and causality, to cut through the very laws that bind this world?"

He moved a little closer in the air, his eyes unwavering, his will sharp enough to pierce reality itself. "Become mine, and I will allow you to cut through anything. I will carry you into endless battles and temper you with blood, resolve, and defiance. Together, we will carve a path so sharp that even Heaven will hesitate before standing in our way."

The golden sword shuddered violently. Its radiance fluctuated as though it were breathing for the first time in countless years. The aura of Max’s fifth level Severing Sword concept washed over it like an invisible tide, not forceful, yet irresistible, resonating perfectly with the sword’s own nature.

The sword no longer retreated. Instead, it hovered in place, trembling as if struggling with a decision that would define its existence.

Max’s lips curved into a faint smile as he spoke his final words, his tone quiet yet absolute. "Come. We will not merely cut through enemies. We will sever fate, shatter laws, and carve open a path where your name alone will make all enemies tremble the moment it is spoken."

That was the final push.

The sword trembled even more violently, its golden light flaring once before it suddenly shot forward like a beam of dawn, closing the distance in an instant. Max did not dodge or brace himself. He simply extended his hand.

His fingers closed around the hilt.

The moment he grasped the sword, all the crushing pressure that had weighed upon him vanished completely, as if it had never existed. The oppressive force of the ninth layer dispersed like mist under sunlight. The black flames around his body settled, his wings retracting calmly as his figure began to descend.

With the golden sword held firmly in his grasp, Max slowly returned to the ground, leaving behind a Treasure Hall filled with stunned silence and the unmistakable sense that something long dormant had finally chosen its master.