---
title: "Chapter 501: Perfect Soul Form"
slug: "ch-501"
novel: "Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100"
number: 501
views: 0
likes: 0
wordCount: 1043
createdAt: "2026-04-15"
---

Max sat alone at the edge of the Tower of Truth’s highest peak, legs dangling off the side, the wind brushing against his skin like a whisper from the heavens.

From up there, the Lost Continent stretched endlessly before him—an empty area of barren land around the tower, mountains, rivers, and scattered cities, veiled by thin clouds and golden rays of sunlight breaking through.

It was a sight few had ever seen, and fewer still could appreciate the way he did in that moment.

Yet, despite the beauty that lay before his eyes, Max’s mind was somewhere else entirely. His thoughts spiraled inward, returning again and again to the revelations Blob had whispered to him after his awakening.

The truth had come gently, like a slow drizzle—but each word carried weight enough to shake his core. Through Blob, he had seen it all.

The moment he and Freya had fallen from the sky as children, broken and lost. The Witch of the North saving him—not through healing, but through a bond, a thread of life tied between him and Freya.

She hadn’t saved him out of compassion, not fully. She had simply extended his time, not knowing whether he’d survive the consequences of his fractured soul.

Then came the revelations of Freya leaving him behind by tempering his memories, of the Witch’s experiments finally fixing his soul through an artificial soul, and finally, of Lucien’s silence.

All of it—every word, every decision made in shadows—was known to him now. At first, he had been furious, overwhelmed by the secrets and half-truths.

Why hadn’t Lucien told him? Why had no one trusted him with his own story?

But now, after a year of silence, growth, and reflection, he no longer felt that surge of curiosity. It was as if the rage had burned itself out long ago, leaving only embers behind.

"As long as I’m fine... nothing else matters," Max muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the wind. He stared at the distant horizon, eyes calm, heart steady.

And then, his thoughts sank deeper—beyond the surface, beyond memory and emotion—down into the deepest chamber of his being: the Soul Palace.

Of all the changes he’d undergone since the day his soul had been repaired, none were as profound, as breathtaking, or as mysterious as this.

The entrance was still the same as he remembered—two towering gates of swirling black and white, the perfect embodiment of Yin and Yang, suspended over a calm, mirror-like ocean that stretched forever into the mist. However, this time both Yin and Yang gates were glowing unlike last time where Yin gate was hollow.

With just a flicker of will, Max stepped forward, and the gates creaked open—not with violence or thunder, but with solemn reverence. In an instant, he was engulfed in the vastness of his Soul Palace, a boundless expanse of ethereal blue that extended far beyond what the eyes could comprehend.

There were no walls, no ceiling, no ground—just the endless embrace of soul energy, serene and infinite.

And at the very center of it all, seated cross-legged on an invisible pedestal of nothingness, was a green figure radiating calm, stillness, and power.

A year ago, when the artificial soul had just begun to stabilize, that figure had been no more than a shimmering child, fragile and undefined—barely clinging to form.

But now, the green figure sitting there was a perfect reflection of Max himself, crafted entirely from pure, condensed soul force. His face, his build, his presence—everything was identical.

The only difference was that this version of Max was formed from pure soul force.

According to Blob, this was the most refined, complex, completed and perfected form a soul could take—fully formed, fully conscious, completely in tune with the body it resided in.

Max stood before it in silence, awe prickling his skin. This... was him. Not his body. Not his thoughts. But the truest form of his existence.

The cultivation of the soul had always been regarded as the most difficult and elusive path among the three pillars of power—soul, mana, and physique.

While mana could be absorbed, refined, and shaped through techniques, and the physique could be tempered, reinforced, and trained, the soul required something far more profound.

One had to shape their very soul into tangible, stable forms, refining their spirit through will, pain, clarity, and unwavering focus. And it wasn’t just about power; it was about identity—about forging the soul into the truest, most perfect version of oneself. That was the final stage of soul cultivation, a form that mirrored not only strength but inner balance and purity.

This was the dream of every expert who dared walk the path of soul mastery. And Max... he now stood within that rare realm. His soul had taken that final form—a fully formed replica of himself, radiant and stable, something most cultivators would never even glimpse in a lifetime.

But that didn’t make his soul invincible across the world. Not by a long shot. According to Blob, what Max possessed was a mutation—a divergence from the natural order. A soul born not entirely of nature, but created through a forbidden fusion of infernal energy.

It was an artificial soul, yes, but one that had stabilized and grown into something akin to perfection—a miracle born from calamity. It differed from the norm, broke rules that had never been questioned, and now, it stood at the edge of something unknown.

However, having the most complete and complex soul form—the legendary final stage of soul cultivation—came with its own unparalleled benefits.

Even though Max’s current soul force wasn’t yet strong enough to overwhelm or suppress someone at the Divine Rank, the sheer form of his soul granted him something most experts would kill for: immunity. Absolute, unshakable immunity.

Soul attacks, no matter how powerful, refined, or ancient in origin, could no longer harm him. Not even the devastating soul-based techniques of Divine Rank experts could pierce the spiritual defense of his perfected soul form. This wasn’t just resistance; it was outright nullification.

His soul, now stabilized into the highest shape a being could attain, acted like an eternal fortress—untouchable, unshakable, inviolable. He had essentially severed a major weakness that plagued even the most powerful beings.