Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 Chapter 1425 End of the First Trial!

Max gradually calmed his breath, compelling the fierce throbbing in his veins to ease. The impulse had struck without warning, nearly overwhelming his sanity for an instant, like an ancient force within him stirring and battling against his control. Shutting his eyes, he drew in a profound breath, suppressing the drive that urged domination and consumption.

'I must examine her bloodline more thoroughly,' he thought to himself. 'I have to figure out what it is and the reason for my reaction.'

As he mentally revisited the feeling, his unease deepened. It wasn't mere desire or interest. It was a craving.

An instinctive, overpowering craving unrelated to his rational choices. The moment he detected hers, his bloodline had erupted in a fierce echo, as if identifying a target or something that might fulfill it. That response alone weighed heavily on his chest.

'Why else would my bloodline respond that way if it wasn't missing something?'

The idea hit him with unexpected force. He'd always viewed his bloodline as exceptional, even dreadfully potent in its capabilities. It had bestowed upon him immense power and skills that challenged normal reasoning. However, the ferocity of that impulse hinted at imperfection. It implied that despite its might, what he held hadn't achieved its peak state.

'If absorbing her bloodline could propel mine to a superior level of advancement, wouldn't that mark an unimaginable leap forward?'

The allure persisted, lurking in the shadows of his reflections. He envisioned the rush of might, the metamorphosis, the chance to surpass boundaries that scarcely anyone could aspire to. For a man who had fought through endless perils, spilling blood and toiling to ascend gradually, the idea was utterly captivating.

But what price would it exact?

Max's eyes fluttered open as he released a measured sigh. He knew the true nature of absorption. It wasn't a benign transfer of power. Claiming her bloodline would strip away an essential fragment of her being. In the mildest outcome, she'd be irreparably weakened. In the gravest, she'd perish.

His hands balled into tight fists.

'I'm no virtuous soul,' he conceded silently. 'I've taken lives in the past. I've resorted to harsh measures for survival and power.'

Still, a boundary remained intact that he'd never breached. He hadn't targeted the blameless just to hasten his personal growth. Distinction existed between battling foes who threatened him and pursuing an individual solely for their prized possession.

The craving inside him roused once more, subdued yet unrelenting. It murmured that power reigned supreme. It recalled how only the mighty endured in this realm. It contended that doubt equaled frailty.

In a brief instant, he pictured yielding to that murmur. Seizing what he craved. Gaining greater might without reservation.

His jaw set firmly.

No.

There must exist an alternative path.

Should his bloodline genuinely need an element from hers, a way surely existed to analyze it, comprehend it, maybe even mimic or harmonize with it sans harming her. He'd endured thus far not by rashly obeying urges, but through strategy, foresight, and flexibility.

He would probe. He would watch. He would reveal the reality of that savage response.

Yet he refused to devolve into a beast ruled only by appetite.

While Max grappled with the turmoil in his soul, moments drifted by unnoticed. The craving from his bloodline hadn't entirely faded, but he'd shoved it to a recess in his thoughts where it couldn't impair his clarity.

His face regained its typical composure, though a faint strain lingered underneath, detectable only by him. When he fully composed himself, a full ten minutes had elapsed, signaling the end of the initial test.

The choking force that had enveloped the space slowly withdrew, even as its residual burden continued to burden many spirits. The enormous dragon skull looming overhead stayed still and quiet, but the intimidating presence it projected had fulfilled its role.

In the square, numerous disciples sprawled on the floor, their countenances ashen and slick with perspiration, their forms quivering like they'd escaped a horrific dream.

Grand Elder Waller advanced, his garment rippling lightly in the subtle flow of lingering Qi that hung in the atmosphere. His eyes scanned the surviving disciples with icy command before his tone echoed, firm and absolute.

"Those still on their feet now will proceed to the second trial."

His statement was straightforward, but it bore the gravity of verdict. He neither amplified his volume nor showed feeling. To him, this was just an essential procedure.

"And those who passed out or failed to stay upright during the allotted ten minutes are all out."

A profound quiet settled after his pronouncement. Among the downed disciples, some bowed their heads, knuckles whitening against the rocky surface below. Their frames shook, not from the fading dragon skull's force, but from shame.

They had stepped into this challenge with fiery resolve in their cores, convinced they bore the Black Dragon Palace's honor in their blood. But beneath the authentic strain from their lineage's origin, they had buckled.

Grand Elder Waller pivoted sharply. "Passers, come with me to the second trial."

He started striding ahead, pace measured and unhurried, with the upright disciples naturally trailing him. Silence prevailed; none ventured words. The air brimmed with a mix of alleviation and strain, as clearing the first hurdle simply heralded tougher ordeals to come.

Max shot a quick look back at the disqualified ones. He noted gritted teeth, shaky grips, stares brimming with resentment and refusal to yield. For a passing second, he empathized with their plight. Years of preparation weren't meant to end at the outset.

Yet soon, his look grew detached.

The route of the powerful never involved mercy. It required a resolute spirit and a physique able to bear strains that would shatter the average. The dragon skull had unleashed but a sliver of its essence, and that alone had laid bare the frailties in numerous souls.

As Black Dragon Palace members, particularly those with the Black Dragon Chaotic Bloodline, withstanding such force ought to be basic. The skull wasn't a foe. It was a vestige of their heritage's splendor.

Without enduring even the whisper of their forebears' strength, how could they aspire to claim its authentic might?

Max's stride stayed firm as he followed Grand Elder Waller. In his thoughts, no scorn for the defeated existed, nor compassion. Power couldn't be pleaded for. It was crafted via perseverance, honed by hardship, and validated by persistence.

Individuals unable to face a simple dragon skull's weight weren't prepared for the challenges beyond.

And in the expansive Divine Realm, the tests were merely starting.