Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100-Chapter 543: Arena

Outside the hall, the plaza was bustling. Numerous instructors stood around, speaking in hushed but firm tones as they guided their chosen geniuses. Some explained key insights on inheritance comprehension; others corrected flawed understandings with sharp precision.

The air was thick with tension, focus, and faint excitement—every genius was being polished in preparation for the final trial.

Max scanned the crowd and soon spotted Lady Virelia, her tall figure standing calmly under the shade of a carved obsidian pillar, speaking to another instructor.

Without wasting time, Max made his way to her.

She turned as he approached, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly with curiosity. "How much have you comprehended?" she asked in a neutral tone, folding her arms, expecting a decent answer—but nothing extraordinary.

Max paused for a moment, weighing whether to fully reveal his progress. After a breath, he said, "I’ve managed to completely master the Flame Tyrant inheritance."

Lady Virelia blinked, a rare frown touching her lips. "Completely?" she echoed, clearly skeptical. "You do realize the Flame Tyrant inheritance is one of the most difficult to fully master, even in the Divine Realm? Even among geniuses there, a decade of training wouldn’t guarantee perfection."

Max said nothing. Instead, he let the aura speak.

Whoosh!

A ripple of scorching, tyrannical heat exploded from his body for a single instant—subtle, controlled, but undeniably powerful. It surged out like a dragon’s breath before vanishing just as quickly.

But that moment was enough. The ground beneath his feet didn’t crack, the wind didn’t scream—but Lady Virelia’s pupils constricted like she’d just seen a ghost.

"You..." she stared at him, visibly shaken. The aura she had just felt wasn’t the clumsy projection of a genius who had merely grasped the surface. It was pure, refined, absolute.

It was the perfection of Flame Tyrant—where the body, soul, and concept were in harmony. Her expression, though quickly masked, betrayed a rare moment of disbelief.

Max only smiled faintly, as if it were no big deal and it truly wasn’t for he had mastered three inheritances to perfection not one that he just showed.

"Good," Lady Virelia said, quickly composing herself after the shock of Max’s aura. Her sharp eyes steadied once more as she nodded slowly, her tone shifting to one of calm analysis. "It seems that the Flame Tyrant inheritance was created just for you. That level of compatibility—it must be due to your class and the unique variety of bloodline you possess. It’s rare... exceptionally rare," she added, almost speaking to herself as much as to Max, as if mentally piecing together a puzzle she couldn’t quite solve.

Then, turning her full attention back to him, she gave a slight smile, one of quiet recognition. "You have a good chance of entering the sixth floor of the Nine Dragons Painting. Perhaps even the seventh," she said seriously, a note of encouragement in her voice. "The rewards grow exponentially the higher you reach. The sixth floor already places you among the top geniuses of the Mortal Realm, but the seventh... That’s the threshold where the Divine Realm starts to take notice."

Max nodded without hesitation. "That’s the plan," he said, his voice calm but filled with purpose. "I want to try the Nine Dragons Painting now." His gaze sharpened slightly.

This was the final piece, the last trial that stood between him and the completion of the True Inheritance. And once it was done, once he walked out of it, he could finally return to his world—not as a seeker, but as someone who had stepped into the realm of legends.

"Let’s go. I will take you to the Nine Dragons Painting," Lady Virelia said with a soft smile, her tone containing a trace of anticipation as she turned and began walking. Max followed closely, his senses automatically spreading out through his Three Dimensional Body, and he noticed that both Jason and Lucia had vanished from his awareness.

Either they had gone ahead or left the area entirely. Still, he didn’t pay it much mind—his focus now was on the final trial.

The path they walked was quiet, passing through high archways and engraved stone corridors, until finally, after a few minutes, they arrived at an enormous arena.

The structure before him was vast, oval in shape, and buzzing with life. Dozens upon dozens of experts and instructors sat in the elevated stands surrounding the battle stage, murmuring amongst themselves, their auras barely restrained.

The main stage itself was broad, open, and marked with ancient lines that seemed to pulse faintly beneath the stone. But what truly drew Max’s attention was what lay at the far end of the arena—a long, ancient wall that stretched from one edge to the other, and upon that wall was a painting.

No, it wasn’t clear if it was a painting at all—it looked too alive, too unreal.

Nine dragons of varying shapes, colors, and sizes writhed and moved as if breathing within the canvas, their bodies weaving in and out of the depicted clouds and mountains.

One of them had golden scales that shimmered like sunlight, another was wreathed in shadowy flames, and yet another had a crystalline body that reflected light like mirrors.

Each dragon carried an aura of majesty and dread.

Max’s eyes sharpened as he observed it, understanding instantly why this trial was named after it. The Nine Dragons weren’t just art—they were alive in some way, part of something far older and more powerful than anyone could explain.

’It’s majestic!’ Max thought.

This was no mere test. This was the domain of dragons, and he was about to step into their world.

"Let’s go to the front," Lady Virelia said, her voice steady as she led Max further down the stone steps of the arena. They moved past instructors and geniuses, through the murmurs and curious gazes, and finally arrived at the very base of the towering wall that bore the Nine Dragons Painting.

The moment Max stepped within twenty feet of it, his entire body froze. His breath caught in his throat. A pressure descended—no, it wasn’t just pressure. It was majesty. It was reverence. It was divinity itself.

The aura that poured out from the painting wasn’t something worldly. It was ancient, primal, and awe-inspiring. The kind of aura that didn’t just graze one’s skin, it pierced through the soul.

Max’s knees nearly buckled under the weight of it, a subtle tremble running through his legs as he instinctively clenched his fists to resist the urge to kneel. For a moment, his instincts screamed at him to bow, to drop to the ground and worship the wall—not because of fear, but because something in that painting deserved it.

Something far beyond human comprehension.

He lifted his gaze again, and the dragons... they moved. Not like illusions, not like some magical trick—they lived. Each eye, each twist of their bodies, each breath inside that painting carried a weight that said: We are watching you.

But then, Max blinked, forcing himself to glance to the side. No one else was reacting the same way. Around him, the other geniuses remained calm and composed. Lady Virelia stood tall, serene, unaffected. Not a single person seemed disturbed by the overwhelming aura he felt. It was as if they couldn’t sense it at all.

Just to be sure he used his Three Dimensional Body allowing him to get a deeper sense of everything in his immediate surroundings.

As he glanced around the arena, he could feel the atmosphere shift. He carefully observed the other geniuses and instructors, noting their composed expressions and calm postures.

Not one of them appeared affected by the overwhelming aura emanating from the Nine Dragons Painting. They stood before the painting as if it were no more than a simple work of art, their breaths even, their focus unwavering.