---
title: "Chapter 1174: A Small Trial"
slug: "ch-1180"
novel: "Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100"
number: 1180
views: 0
likes: 0
wordCount: 1137
createdAt: "2026-04-15"
---

The darkness around Max began to twist. The endless void that had surrounded him for what felt like eternity started to ripple like liquid glass disturbed by an unseen hand. The vibration deepened, resonating through his bones and echoing faintly inside his mind.

A faint light appeared in the far distance—small at first, but gradually expanding, until it illuminated the void in pale shades of blue and white.

Max stood calmly, his gaze fixed ahead as the light grew brighter, engulfing the darkness completely. The sensation was strange. It wasn’t like being teleported, nor was it like shifting through spatial layers.

It was as if reality itself was folding and reforming around him. His surroundings blurred, his vision wavered for a moment, and then everything fell silent.

When his senses cleared, Max found himself standing in a completely different world.

The void was gone.

Before him stretched a vast battlefield that seemed suspended between dream and reality. The sky was an endless expanse of white clouds, flowing like slow-moving rivers of mist.

Beneath his feet, the ground shimmered as if made of translucent crystal, reflecting faint shades of blue and silver. Floating islands of ice hovered in the distance, drifting gently through the air, each one pulsing with a faint aura of frost.

Yet this place was not cold. The air carried both heat and chill in perfect harmony. Far on the horizon, streams of flame intertwined with rivers of ice, colliding but never destroying each other, merging into a breathtaking dance of opposing forces.

The light from the flames refracted through the frozen air, scattering in waves of red and blue that painted the entire sky with ethereal brilliance.

Max exhaled slowly, taking in the beauty and strangeness of it all. The battlefield seemed alive, breathing with an ancient rhythm. He could feel that this was no ordinary trial space. The energy here wasn’t just natural—it was sentient.

Every gust of wind, every flicker of light seemed to observe him silently, as though the realm itself was judging whether he was worthy to be here.

"So this is the second part of the trial," he murmured. His voice echoed faintly, carried away by the gentle flow of air. "A world of balance... fire and ice."

He took a step forward, his boots crunching lightly against the crystalline ground. The space responded immediately. In an instant, countless patterns lit up beneath his feet—lines of light forming intricate sigils and runes that extended in every direction.

From the distant edges of the battlefield, figures began to emerge—warriors made of pure flame and soldiers sculpted from living ice. Their forms were hazy at first, like illusions, but within moments they solidified into tangible shapes.

Each step they took caused the world to shake faintly. Their weapons gleamed under the spectral sky, one half burning with crimson fire, the other radiating icy blue light.

Max narrowed his eyes. The two opposing armies stood across from each other, stretching far into the distance. Thousands of figures on both sides faced one another in perfect silence, their energy so overwhelming that the air itself began to hum.

And then, all at once, both armies turned their heads toward Max.

Their movements were synchronized—flame and frost, heat and cold, destruction and stillness—all focusing on him. The silence broke as a low roar spread through the field, not from any one creature, but from the world itself.

"So this is the battlefield of duality," Max whispered, realization dawning on him. "To comprehend ice, I must survive the unity of fire and frost."

The two armies of flame and ice rushed toward Max with deafening roars. The sound was overwhelming—a clash of elements that tore through the dreamlike silence of the realm.

The heat of burning flames and the cold of biting frost collided midair, sending waves of violent energy surging across the battlefield. Yet in the center of it all, Max stood unmoving. His expression was calm, his eyes unreadable.

He raised his right hand slowly, and a faint black glow surrounded his palm. The devouring flames within his veins began to stir, and the world responded to that movement. The heat near him surged, twisting wildly as if drawn toward his presence. The frost around him melted instantly, vanishing before it could even touch his body.

The first wave of enemies—creatures made of molten fire—charged at him, their blades burning with crimson light. They swung together, striking from every direction. But before their weapons could reach him, Max disappeared. The space they struck shattered into fragments, revealing only emptiness.

A split second later, Max reappeared behind them. His hand moved once, slicing through the air. "Heaven Piercing Thunderclap Sword."

A brilliant flash of light followed, blinding everything in its path. The slash tore through the army, severing flame and shadow alike. The fiery creatures screamed, their bodies splitting apart before dissolving into golden ash that scattered across the wind.

Without hesitation, the army of ice advanced next. Countless soldiers of glacial crystal moved like a tide, their spears gleaming with freezing intent. Each step they took froze the air itself, turning even the drifting ash of their fallen counterparts into brittle shards. But Max didn’t retreat. His body crackled with red lightning as he shot forward, leaving trails of red and blue behind him.𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

"Storm King’s Inheritance—Extreme Speed."

He moved faster than sight could follow, weaving through the icy soldiers like a phantom. His fists struck in a rhythm too fast to count, each blow infused with the raw energy of his Divine Vein. The ground trembled under the impact of his attacks, and each strike shattered dozens of ice warriors into dust.

When the survivors tried to retaliate, he vanished again, reappearing in the sky above them with his sword in hand.

"Crimson Burial Sword Art—Fourth Movement, Burning Sky."

The sky turned red. The blade in his hand erupted with black and crimson fire, spreading outward like a wave of molten energy. It descended upon the battlefield with unstoppable momentum, melting the frost below and burning through every icy figure in sight. The flames howled as they spread, consuming the frozen world beneath them. The armies of ice screamed as their forms evaporated, leaving nothing but vapor and melted ground in their wake.

When the last of the warriors fell, silence returned. The battlefield that had once been alive with chaos was now quiet and still. Steam rose from the scorched ground, and the horizon glowed faintly under the crimson hue of residual flames.

Max stood at the center of it all, surrounded by destruction. The flames of his sword flickered and dimmed before fading completely. His breathing was steady, not even a trace of exhaustion in his eyes. "Is that all?" he murmured, his voice echoing softly across the shattered landscape.