---
title: "Chapter 401: Mother"
slug: "ch-401"
novel: "Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100"
number: 401
views: 0
likes: 0
wordCount: 1062
createdAt: "2026-04-13"
---

"This is… my mother." Max's voice was barely a whisper, yet it echoed clearly through the silent hall, reaching every ear.

For a moment, no one moved.

No one breathed.

Shock rippled through the crowd like a silent wave, freezing them in place. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. Eyes widened. Mouths parted, but no words came out.

The three statues standing before them were far from ordinary—they were sacred, revered by every elf not just as relics of the past, but as the very source of their strength and existence. To the elven race, these statues were more than stone—they were life itself. But behind the reverence lay a deeper truth, one rooted in ancient legend.

According to the stories passed down through countless generations, these statues were not crafted by mortal hands. They were manifestations of powerful elves from a higher dimension, beings whose might was said to rival that of true gods.

It is believed that when such an elf descended into the mortal world, a statue would rise in their place, forming not from stone but from the residual divine spark left behind. This divine spark embedded within the statue would continue to radiate through the land, blessing the elves with vitality, abundance, and the strength of their bloodline.

These statues served not only as symbols of faith but as anchors of divine power, keeping the elven race connected to their ancient origins and ensuring that their lineage would thrive, generation after generation.

And so, when Max finally whispered the words—words that felt like they were pulled from the deepest part of his soul—"That statue... the one in the middle… she's my mother…"—the entire Ancestral Hall fell into a stunned silence.

The moment the words left his lips, it was as if the air had been sucked out of the dome.

The elves present—Princess Lenavira, the three ancient ancestors, Fugen, and the other followers—froze in place, eyes wide with disbelief. For generations, these three statues had been revered, honored as the sacred ancestors of the elven race, their identities lost to time but their presence worshipped as symbols of divine guidance and forgotten glory.

Not once had anyone ever dared to claim a personal connection to them. And now, a human stood before them, not only claiming to be Freya's brother but saying that one of these statues was his mother.

The sheer absurdity of it made some of the younger elves instinctively reach for their weapons again, while others simply stared, stunned speechless.

Even the three powerful elders looked shaken, their expressions flickering from disbelief to something more unreadable—something deeper.

Because while Max's claim sounded impossible… his reaction hadn't been fake. His trembling, his tears, the way he looked at the statue as if seeing a long-lost loved one—it wasn't something that could be faked.

It was real.

Painfully real.

And that alone was enough to shake the very foundation of what the elves thought they knew.

"Mother…" Max whispered, his voice soft and full of emotion as he reached up to wipe the tears from his cheeks. He couldn't take his eyes off the statue in the center. It was as if time had stopped around him.

And then, something above the statue caught his attention.

He blinked and looked up. There, etched clearly above each of the three massive statues, were names carved in ancient golden elven script.

The name above the first statue was Altheria, regal and strong in appearance.

The name above the last one was Velanna, elegant and wise-looking.

But it was the name above the middle statue that made Max's breath catch in his throat. Caelira. His heart skipped a beat. That was his mother's name. The very same name he had heard his whole life, spoken in warmth and remembered in pain.

The confirmation made something inside him tremble even more. 'It really is her...' he thought, staring up at the name with wide eyes. The resemblance in the statue's face was already uncanny, but now, paired with the name, it removed every shred of doubt he had.

There was just one difference—the statue clearly had pointed ears, the trait of an elf, while his mother had always been human in appearance. Still, Max couldn't ignore the truth burning in his chest.

"Caelira… That's the name of my mother," Max said quietly, almost in awe, the words slipping out naturally.

The hall fell into deeper silence—one filled with disbelief and growing realization. The elves, already shaken by his emotional reaction, were now visibly stunned.

A person could sometimes look like another, yes—but to carry the exact same name, the same face, and to have a sister like Freya, who once rejuvenated their dying kingdom with just a touch… it was no longer just coincidence.

The name Caelira wasn't common, not even among the elves. And now, standing before the statue of one of their revered ancestors, a human boy had uttered it—not as a guess, but with a certainty that shook even the oldest among them.

The impossible was starting to look real.

Max stood still, his mind spinning with thoughts and questions. So many things were colliding at once—the statue, the name, the memories of his mother, the truth about Freya, and the mystery of why he and his sister were connected to a race they never belonged to.

But he didn't speak those questions aloud. Not yet. They could wait. Right now, he needed time alone—time with Princess Lenavira, someone who clearly knew more than she let on. As a princess of the Elf Kingdom, she was bound to have some of the answers he was looking for.

Taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart, Max turned toward her. "So," he asked quietly, his voice steadier now, "what do I need to do?"

Princess Lenavira hesitated for a moment. Now that everything made sense, it was all becoming clear to her—why Freya was able to bring life to their kingdom, and why she had insisted Max would be able to do the same.

Lenavira's sharp eyes flicked toward the old lady, Ancestor Ilya, silently asking for confirmation. The elder gave a slow nod, and with that, Lenavira turned back to Max.

"You see that pentagonal-shaped emerald shining on the forehead of God Ancestor Caelira's statue?" she said, her tone softer than before.