Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100-Chapter 540: Finish Comprehending

"He got 9% this time... was it the Black Sun inheritance?" a young genius muttered, eyes fixed on the fading glow above the Tower of Resonance gate.

"I think so too," another chimed in, nodding thoughtfully. "He fully comprehended the Flame Tyrant totem to perfection—maybe because he had some affinity with it, like a class or bloodline synergy. But for the other inheritances, he seems more... above average, not monstrous."

"Yeah," a third added, adjusting the badge on his chest. "Maybe that freakish bloodline of his is what helped him master the Flame Tyrant inheritance. Don’t forget—he suppressed those Grimes Family goons like it was nothing. That wasn’t just power. That was bloodline superiority."

"Still," someone else pointed out, crossing their arms, "9% in one week isn’t something to scoff at either. It’s well above the average pace. For any normal elite genius, that’s an incredible start."

Their voices wove together, forming a small echo of speculation, curiosity, and begrudging admiration. They clustered in loose circles near the Tower’s edge, their gazes flitting between the number still faintly lingering above the gate and the distant figure of Max Morgan as he walked away, unhurried and unreadable.

In their eyes, a new understanding was settling in—Max wasn’t some unstoppable monster who dominated every inheritance with ease.

He was a gifted outlier in one and promising in others. Someone worth watching, but perhaps not fearing... not yet. And as that idea rooted itself in their minds, the tension around Max’s name seemed to subtly ease.

Exactly as he wanted.

"Interesting..." Jason smiled lightly seeing Max’s performance this time, his face unreadable.

***

Meanwhile, inside the Crimson Reaper dome, Max stepped into a quiet stillness unlike the others he had entered before. The hall was subdued, almost solemn, and far less crowded than the previous domes.

Only a handful of geniuses sat in meditation before the black stone totem that pulsed with a dark crimson light.

Max instantly understood why. The Crimson Reaper inheritance wasn’t just about comprehension—it demanded something specific. One had to possess the innate ability or a skill to generate a forcefield, a defensive trait most geniuses never prioritized. Without it, this inheritance was nearly impossible to absorb.

’I wonder what sort of abilities I’ll gain from this,’ Max thought, eyes narrowing with curiosity as he took a seat at the very front of the dome, his gaze fixed on the swirling, blood-colored lines etched into the stone.

From that moment on, time melted away. He slipped between reality and the Dimension of Time, his consciousness diving in and out, studying the strange structures, layers, and interactions within the crimson inheritance.

At first, it was difficult. The totem didn’t reveal its secrets easily. But Max was patient, methodical. He observed the stone’s patterns externally, then mirrored them internally—again and again—until the unfamiliar began to make sense.

Five days passed like that.

And finally, it all clicked.

"I see," Max muttered, his voice low and steady, a subtle smile spreading across his lips. "So the Crimson Reaper inheritance is both an attack and utility-based art... It all depends on how I shape the forcefield—whether it’s to isolate, defend, entrap, or destroy."

His gaze shifted inward, and there, within the flourishing Chaos Tree deep in his inner world, a fourth leaf had sprouted from the flame concept branch. This one pulsed with dark crimson light, jagged lines crisscrossing its surface, perfectly mimicking the markings of the totem.

This new leaf resonated with a chilling energy—cold, precise, and merciless. Max could feel its power humming through him, offering him new means of control.

This wasn’t like Flame Tyrant, a storm of fire and might, nor like Black Sun, a domain of emperor’s will. The Crimson Reaper was subtle, manipulative, able to warp space through forcefield layers and create traps of pure conceptual law. Max didn’t just understand it now—he could feel it stitched into his very essence.

With a slow breath, he opened his eyes, the glow of comprehension still lingering within them. The dome’s crimson light reflected off his pupils, and the air around him subtly warped—distorted by the faint shimmer of a forcefield forming and fading in response to his thoughts.

Another inheritance mastered. Another step forward.

’I think a technique, when combined with a concept, gives rise to an inheritance... but how exactly do they merge?’ Max wondered as he slowly walked out of the Crimson Reaper dome, his mind swirling with everything he had absorbed over the past few weeks.

Having now fully grasped the Flame Tyrant, Black Sun, and Crimson Reaper inheritances, a new realization struck him with startling clarity. Each of those inheritances, while cloaked in mystical aura and profound complexity, at their core, were structured techniques—refined, specialized methods passed down and polished through countless generations.

But what made them more than mere techniques was how they were forged together with deep-seated concepts.

The Flame Tyrant was built atop the Concept of Flames. The Black Sun, upon power and control. The Crimson Reaper, anchored to the manipulation of forcefields. Though all of them were connected with Concept of Flames.

And it was through the seamless fusion of these raw concepts with unique techniques that they birthed something greater—something worthy of being called an inheritance.

"I think in the Middle Domain..." Max murmured aloud, eyes thoughtful, "techniques will probably be everywhere—like skills in the Power Domain, widespread and available in large numbers. But inheritances... they’ll be the game changers. The rare ones. The secrets hidden away in guild vaults, family legacies, and divine ruins. Things that ordinary experts wouldn’t even dare to dream of finding."

This understanding excited him, yet at the same time, made him more cautious. Inheritances weren’t just treasures—they were legacy-level weapons of growth and supremacy, and anyone who held even one of them was destined to stand above others.

Max now had three such inheritances etched into his Chaos Tree, each one strengthening the flame concept branch in ways that went beyond his earlier comprehension.

2

He knew that once he entered the Middle Domain, this difference would show—and it would attract both reverence and danger. But for now, he felt a subtle satisfaction, having peeled back yet another layer of the world’s secrets.