---
title: "Chapter 517: Ancient Dragon Scroll"
slug: "ch-517"
novel: "Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100"
number: 517
views: 0
likes: 0
wordCount: 1334
createdAt: "2026-04-15"
---

When the red-robed man spoke of comparing comprehension of Concepts, the atmosphere within the training ground instantly shifted. A flicker of heat passed through the air—not from fire, but from excitement. Dozens of eyes lit up with a brilliant gleam, each one belonging to a young elite overflowing with pride and ambition.

These weren’t ordinary geniuses—they were the chosen, the exceptional, the prodigies of their respective families and planets. Each of them carried the belief that they were born to reach the peak, and when a chance came to demonstrate their superiority, none of them hesitated.

Naturally, when the red-robed elder mentioned a competition—a comparison of Concept comprehension—it struck a chord deep within their bones.

They were all geniuses, and there was no better battlefield for ego and talent than one where one’s understanding of the Laws would be measured. There would be no excuse, no hiding behind brute strength. It would be a pure test of insight.

"Haha! A competition based on the Concept of Fire? I have complete confidence in this!" Henry said with enthusiasm, rubbing his palms together like a child about to unwrap a long-awaited gift. His eyes sparkled, his aura subtly flaring with anticipation.

Around him, the other young elites were just as eager—many exchanging glances of challenge, some smirking faintly, others already stepping forward as if daring the rest to keep up.

The red-robed old man, seeing their rising fervor, smiled faintly but didn’t waste any more words.

With a calm movement, he reached into his spatial ring and drew forth a long, rolled-up scroll. Its surface was aged, the texture of the material weathered by time. It was bound not by arrays or metal but by a simple red thread, as though something so powerful needed no grand ornamentation.

"This," the old man said, holding the scroll with both hands, "is called the Ancient Dragon Scroll." His voice was low but carried a sense of weight. "It does not contain Concepts. It does not contain Laws. What it holds is more fundamental—sources."

His gaze passed over each of the young geniuses, lingering for a heartbeat on the ones who dared meet his eyes.

"This scroll will be the base of your test. Each of you will stand before it and attempt to resonate with the source within. It holds the purest traces of the Black Dragon’s origin flame—essence untouched by Law or Concept, raw and primordial."

He let the words settle, then added, "Your evaluation will be simple. You will be judged based on the amount of pure Black Dragon origin source you can comprehend and draw from the scroll. The deeper your resonance, the stronger your connection to the essence of the Black Dragon’s flame. That will determine your standing."

At those words, silence briefly fell—then was replaced with a burning intensity in the eyes of every single genius present.

"That’s the Ancient Dragon Scroll!" someone exclaimed from the crowd, their voice thick with awe.

"It truly is the Ancient Dragon Scroll! I’ve only ever read about it in my family’s ancient texts, passed down for generations... but to actually see the real thing with my own eyes!" another young elite gasped, his voice trembling with reverence.

Dozens of others shared the sentiment, their expressions shifting from curiosity to full-blown amazement as the scroll was slowly unfurled.

Hwaa!

The sound of fabric unraveling echoed crisply through the chamber, and the moment the black picture scroll fully opened, an overwhelming heat surged outward in every direction.

It wasn’t just physical warmth—it was essence, raw and unfiltered, the kind of energy that made even seasoned experts instinctively hold their breath.

On the scroll’s surface, dark ink twisted and shimmered, gradually revealing the image of an enormous dragon coiled within.

The dragon’s form seemed illusory at first, but with each heartbeat, its presence grew more defined—its massive body curling and flickering as if it were alive and straining against the boundaries of the scroll, ready to tear out into reality at any moment.

’This scroll... It’s resonating with me even if I don’t focus on it.’ Max was shocked but then he understood too. Out of all the people standing here, only his bloodline was at the very apex.

Even in this planet, he could feel the ability to suppress anyone linked to the Black Dragon Chaotic Bloodline. And this made him wonder, just how high his bloodline ranked compared to a Source Bloodline?

"Who’s first?" the red-robed old man asked, his sharp eyes sweeping over the sea of eager geniuses.

"Me!"

"Me!"

"Me, me!"

A flurry of voices rang out instantly. Dozens of young elites raised their hands, some practically leaping forward, desperate for the honor.

Their eyes burned with ambition; after all, an opportunity to comprehend the Ancient Dragon Scroll was so rare that even some high-ranking clans only heard about it in legend.

"You!" the old man said, pointing casually at Henry. At once, Henry’s face lit up with uncontained excitement, his fists clenching at his sides. Being chosen first was an incredible opportunity—one he clearly didn’t intend to waste.

"Stand before the Ancient Dragon Scroll and begin comprehension," the old man instructed. "I will evaluate your individual resonance, compatibility, and your current attainments in the Concept of Flame. Your final result will be judged by me."

"Yes, sir!" Henry replied firmly, stepping forward with steady strides, though his heart beat like a war drum. As he stopped before the unfurled scroll, his eyes locked onto the hidden dragon within.

For a few moments, nothing happened—then, slowly, Henry’s expression changed. His breathing deepened, and his eyes grew wider and brighter. It was as if the world around him had ceased to exist.

In the reflection of his gaze, fiery lines began to swirl—delicate and complex, dancing with meaning. These weren’t just flames. They were symbols, principles, strands of truth forged in fire itself.

The smoldering lines weaved together to form mysterious runes and illusions of flame-based phenomena: blooming lotuses of fire, crumbling volcanoes, dragon-like silhouettes.

Henry stood motionless, completely entranced, his Soul Palace resonating with something ancient and boundless. And the others... could only watch in silence as the trial began.

And then, without warning, faint black lights began to shimmer around Henry’s body. One by one, small glowing black orbs emerged from the Ancient Dragon Scroll, swirling slowly in the air before hovering around him like sentient fragments of the void.

At first, there were only two—pulsing dimly—but then another appeared... and another. The young geniuses in the hall leaned forward slightly, their breaths held as the number of orbs steadily grew.

Three... five... seven... eight... and finally, after nearly fourteen full minutes of silent focus, the ninth orb flickered to life and joined the circle.

Just as the ninth orb formed, a sudden pulse of force erupted from the scroll—an invisible shockwave that surged forward and pushed Henry several steps back. His eyes blinked open, as if waking from a dream, and his connection with the scroll snapped like a stretched thread returning to form.

The nine black orbs hovered for only a second longer before fading into streaks of energy and returning to the scroll, disappearing into its ancient ink as if they had never existed.

Henry turned toward the red-robed elder, barely containing his excitement. "How is it?" he asked, glancing between the now-vanished orbs and the old man, clearly proud of what he believed was a decent result.

The red-robed man looked at him with a neutral expression and spoke in a flat, emotionless tone. "Fourteen minutes of comprehension time... and you managed to draw forth nine strands of Black Dragon origin source. Your potential evaluation: C grade. Average."

Henry’s face twitched slightly, a mixture of disappointment and disbelief flashing through his eyes, but he quickly masked it with a forced grin.

Around him, some geniuses nodded with understanding—others smirked. In a gathering of elites, average wasn’t a compliment. It was a reminder of how high the standards here truly were.