---
title: "Chapter 798: A month of silence"
slug: "ch-804"
novel: "Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100"
number: 804
views: 0
likes: 0
wordCount: 1226
createdAt: "2026-04-15"
---

Max reappeared in his room within the 2-star sector of the Great Ruler Empire, the familiar sight of his modest chamber greeting him with gentle lamplight flickering against polished stone walls.

He staggered a step forward, his face pale and streaked with dried blood, each breath still ragged from the earlier battle, and finally let out a shaky sigh as he slumped into the nearest chair. "It was good that I anchored the Space Anchor Sphere to my room here," he muttered under his breath, reaching into his storage space to pull out a handful of luminous mana crystals whose surfaces pulsed softly like captured stars.

He clutched them in his palms and felt the soothing tide of energy pour through his battered body, mending the torn muscles and shattered pathways left by the Third Elder’s savage assault.

The Space Anchor Sphere, he reflected, was a treasure he’d stumbled upon during his time exploring the mysterious citadel back in the Lower Domain. It was an artifact that has a single, invaluable function: to instantly transport its owner to the precise location where it had been anchored.

Max had wisely chosen to tie it to his room in the Great Ruler Empire, and tonight, that single decision had spared him from certain death. "Fortunately, I did that," he whispered with a grim chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned back and closed his eyes, reliving the attack of the old lady. "Otherwise, I’d be dead right now."

He exhaled deeply, gathering his scattered thoughts as the last threads of pain ebbed from his flesh. ’That was close,’ he thought, his expression darkening as the images of June’s twisted, screaming face flashed across his mind. Yet despite the chaos and the mortal peril, he felt not a shred of regret for what he’d done.

Suddenly, a melodic chime rang out accompanied by the crisp, synthetic voice of the system:

[Congratulations to Max Voidwalker for leveling to level 7 of Master Rank.]

[Congratulations to Max Voidwalker for leveling to level 8 of Master Rank.]

Max opened his eyes, and for the first time since returning, a genuine grin cracked across his face. "I leveled up two more times. Great." His tone was tinged with relief and satisfaction, though the triumph was quickly overtaken by a thoughtful frown.

He stared at the glimmering mana crystals in his hand as his mind churned with unease. "I wonder if the Thunder Monarch Hall and the Void Soul Tower will cause some problems for the Great Ruler Empire," he murmured, brows furrowing deeper.

He knew the intricate politics of the Middle Domain weren’t so simple, and while his soul contract with Princess Lyra made it impossible for the Great Ruler Empire to simply expel him—or worse, hand him over to their rivals—he couldn’t help but consider how the aftermath of June’s death would ripple through the delicate balance of power.

"Though I doubt they’d be foolish enough to do something so reckless," he added after a moment, the shadows easing from his eyes as a trace of cold amusement curved his lips. "They’d only invite calamity upon themselves."

Shrugging, Max drew in a steady breath, his resolve hardening. "Well... let’s see how it goes." He rose from the chair, his injuries nearly healed, and with a flick of his will, stepped into the swirling silver doorway of his Dimension of Time.

Inside that world of suspended hours, he unsheathed his sword in a single smooth motion and began running through the intricate steps of the Sky Shattering Invincible Sword Art, his blade flashing like liquid moonlight.

Simultaneously, he retrieved several lightning essence stones from his ring, their surfaces sparking with violet arcs, and pressed them to his chest as he inhaled deeply. His aura surged as he began to absorb the stones’ pure energy, determined to master the second stage of the Storm King inheritance.

And so, quietly and without the dramatic storms he’d braced himself for, an entire month slipped past like the silent turning of pages in an unseen book.

In that span of days, Max immersed himself so completely in his cultivation and training that time seemed almost irrelevant, measured only by the rhythm of his breath, the ringing clash of his sword strokes, and the steady thrum of energy coursing through his veins.

His tireless dedication finally bore fruit when he felt a profound shift in his Sky Shattering Invincible Sword Art: at long last, he could perform the first move—Unyielding Sword Art—not with the borrowed mantle of the invincible concept, but purely with his own severing concept, a fusion of insight and deadly precision that filled him with quiet pride.

Simultaneously, his efforts with the Storm King’s Inheritance also yielded breakthroughs. With sweat beading down his brow and veins lit with flickering arcs of violet lightning, Max painstakingly absorbed lightning essence stone after lightning essence stone until he amassed nine in total, unlocking the second stage—Heaven’s Wraith.

The power it granted him, the raw destructive ferocity of true lightning, sent chills of awe even through his own spirit, though it left him battered and drained. However, when he turned his focus toward the final stage, Extreme Speed, he found himself stonewalled.

No matter how many times he attempted to absorb more lightning essence stones, the process grew exponentially more difficult after the ninth one, as if the essence itself was resisting entry into his meridians, forcing him to admit that he was not yet strong enough to advance further.

Beyond these triumphs, Max also drilled tirelessly in his other martial arts, refining the devastating arcs of his Heaven-Piercing Thunderclap Sword and the grim, crimson fury of his Crimson Burial Sword Art until each technique felt as natural to him as breathing.

Meanwhile, all four of his comprehended concepts—lightning, flames, space, and sword—edged upward into the intermediate stage of Level 2, standing merely a single breath away from the pinnacle of that realm.

Yet as his strength grew day by day, the outside world remained stubbornly quiet in a way that gnawed at his instincts. One evening, as pale lamplight cast dancing shadows against the smooth walls of his room, Max finally opened his eyes from meditation, a faint frown marring his features.

"It’s strange," he murmured, his voice soft as if afraid to break the silence that hung so heavily around him. "It’s been a month, and nobody from the Void Soul Tower or the Thunder Monarch Hall has come."

He leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing as he considered the weight of that reality. He’d fully expected retaliation, bloodshed, or at the very least, fierce political maneuvering after killing June—a Heaven Grade genius of the Void Soul Tower, no less.

The death of someone of her caliber wasn’t simply a personal vendetta; it was the kind of incident that could spark power struggles, factional wars, or assassins hunting him across the Middle Domain. Yet the days had drifted by without so much as a ripple.

Neither the Void Soul Tower nor the Thunder Monarch Hall had made a move. Even Lyra had sent no messages regarding political fallout or looming threats, as though the world had simply chosen to pretend nothing had happened. It left Max with a lingering sense of dissonance, a suspicion that something was coiling unseen beneath the surface, waiting for its moment to strike.