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| title | slug | novel | number | views | likes | wordCount | createdAt |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Chapter 936: Thousands of Golden Swords | ch-942 | Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 | 942 | 0 | 0 | 1000 | 2026-04-15 |
The masked leader of the Obsidian Order added in a calm but firm voice, "If you compare sword concepts in terms of potential for destruction, Severing Sword would easily rank within the top five. Its sharpness ignores defenses. It doesn’t clash with power—it bypasses it. To comprehend even the second level of this concept is something only a few peak geniuses manage before Mythic Rank. And Max... he’s still only a Master Rank expert."
He paused for a moment, looking at the endless swarm of swords gathering in the sky, then added gravely, "Which also means his Wraith will be nothing short of a massacre. The more profound and powerful your concept, the stronger and crueler the Wraith of the World becomes in response. This... this is a death sentence. I can’t imagine how a mere peak Master Rank can endure such a trial."
Emperor Hermes and Guild Master Orion, who had been watching silently, finally shifted. Their expressions grew dark and grim. Even they, who had witnessed the rise of dozens of peak geniuses, had never seen a Wraith of this magnitude.
They knew what the tiger-masked man meant. The stronger the genius, the more the world tried to suppress them. And Max... he was easily one of the most terrifying they had ever seen. This wasn’t a normal tribulation. This was the world rejecting a monster.
The tension in the air became unbearable as the golden swords in the sky began to spin—whirling into formations, vibrating with an edge that could slice the heavens themselves. And in the center of it all, Max stood calmly, his body glowing with golden light beneath the looming storm of swords meant to obliterate him.
On the other side, the Thunder Lord of Thunder Monarch Hall and the Tower Lord of the Void Soul Tower stood silently, their gazes fixed on Max floating alone beneath the storm of golden swords. Though they didn’t speak, a silent, shared wish lingered between them—Let him die.
Max had humiliated their factions, slain their geniuses, and even killed Arnold without hesitation. A loss like that couldn’t be washed away with words or time. The Wraith of the World was their only hope of justice now.
After all, many geniuses throughout history had vanished in the river of time, buried under the wrath of the heavens before ever reaching their prime. No matter how talented, few could withstand the fury of the world itself. Especially not without months—sometimes years—of preparation.
Because that was the purpose of the Wraith of the World.
It existed to punish defiance. The system that granted people unnatural strength beyond the mortal limit had always gone against the natural order. So when someone climbed high enough—when they stood on the edge of the Mythic Rank—the world intervened.𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖
A Wraith would descend upon them, not as a test, but as a judgment. It was the world’s final attempt to crush them, to remind them of their place, to halt their advancement permanently.
And yet... Max was facing it far earlier than he should.
Inside Max’s mind, Blob’s voice echoed with calm surprise. "Max, this Wraith is... natural. That’s what’s strange. Normally, only those stepping into Mythic Rank are confronted by the Wraith of the World. But you’re just entering Champion Rank. You truly are an anomaly."
His voice was a mix of admiration and concern. "Still, don’t panic. This Wraith is normal—compared to the one you endured in the Mourning Depths, this is nothing. In fact, you may even gain something from it."
Max didn’t answer immediately. He was focused.
Focused on the weight pressing down on him. A weight that no one else could feel. Though he stood tall, calm, golden light flickering off his skin, his body was under constant assault.
If it weren’t for the passive effects of the [Primordial] title protecting him from pressure, he was sure—absolutely sure—that this invisible force alone would have crushed him to dust before the first sword even fell.
He could feel how terrifying this trial was meant to be. He could sense the intent of every blade above him—cut, sever, destroy.
His gaze rose slowly.
Thousands of golden swords hovered in the air like divine weapons waiting for a signal. Each one hummed with the sharpness of the third-level Concept of Severing Sword. Each blade carried the power to cleave through flesh, spirit, and space alike. But none of them fell. Not yet.
"They’re waiting," Max muttered, voice low. "Why aren’t they descending yet?"
"It’s like an ultimatum," Blob replied. "They’re giving you time. Time to prepare... to run... or to kneel. Take it however you want."
Max’s lips curled into a light, almost amused smile. "Time to prepare, huh?"
He could have. He should have. His arsenal was vast—techniques, bloodline abilities, other three concepts, and many more. With a single thought, he could fill the air around him with protective barriers, with destructive attacks, or unleash a flood of offensive energy. But he didn’t move.
Instead, he looked at the sky... and saw opportunity.
Each of those golden swords wasn’t just an enemy. They were opportunities. A glimpse into a path he was just beginning to walk. His own sword concept—Severing Sword—was at the second level, refined to perfection.
But no matter how hard he tried in the past, he hadn’t touched the edge of the third level. He had felt it... sensed it from a distance. But now it was before him. Countless golden swords, each carved by the will of the world, each echoing with the resonance of the third level concept. This was his chance.
"I won’t defend," Max whispered.
He clenched his sword tightly in his right hand—the Blue Dragon Sword, humming softly in response.
"I’ll fight," he said. "And I’ll comprehend."
His eyes turned sharper than any blade in the sky.
"I’ll use your judgment... to step into my next level."
And with that, Max steadied his stance, lifted his sword—and waited. Not to survive. But to surpass.