Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 Chapter 1457 Garry Heron's Belief!
Previously on Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100...
However, Max's rise did not receive admiration from everyone.
On the viewing platform, as the projection revealed his consistent progression past ten thousand six hundred miles, awe mingled with a palpable strain. His advancement inspired some observers. For others, it bred discomfort.
Garry Heron's face had darkened further.
"I believe his path will conclude near ten thousand eight hundred or ten thousand nine hundred miles," Garry stated icily, his eyes locked on the projection.
A few nearby elders glanced his way. His words conveyed confidence, not mere guesswork.
Matthew Grimes directed his focus to Garry, a subtle smile forming on his lips.
"Hmm. What leads you to that conclusion?" Matthew inquired steadily. "Based on the current display, Max seems to have the best shot at the twelfth layer."
"Best shot?" Garry emitted a brief, scornful chuckle. "Matthew, are you for real?"
Derision laced his tone openly.
"You ought to realize that the greatest recorded attempt to access the twelfth layer in the Black Dragon Clan's history came from that time's Saintess. Her Imperial Bloodline was fully awakened. It was complete. Despite that, she couldn't breach the twelfth layer."
He pivoted a bit, his gaze sharpening.
"Why do you suppose a person with just a progenitor grade bloodline can outdo the achievement of a Saintess at the pinnacle of her heritage? The twelfth layer is considered impossible for anyone in the Rebirth Realm."
His statement held gravity. The Saintess in question wasn't simply gifted; she was hailed as one of the clan's most exceptional icons ever.
Garry gave a faint sneer.
"Max is just an ordinary disciple who lucked into the Sword of the Sword Sovereign. Beyond that, what sets him apart? His bloodline isn't supreme. His base isn't unparalleled."
He clasped his hands behind him, his tone turning keener.
"It wouldn't shock me if he used some dubious or disgraceful tactic to delve this far into the Path to Eternal Flames. When he tries for the twelfth layer, that ploy will collapse. That's when the truth will emerge."
The bitterness he'd held back before now surfaced completely.
Ever since Max broke Zain's record, Garry's ego had suffered a blow. The Heron Family had enjoyed sole prestige for a while. That status was now lost.
Matthew Grimes paused before responding, studying Garry's face with composure.
"You're free to hold that opinion," Matthew replied evenly. "Yet the Path to Eternal Flames doesn't favor deceit. It gauges insight, resolve, and stamina. Any foul play you imagine would have been burned away by the flames already."
Victor Veron cut in with contemplation.
"Regardless of our biases, his advancement is indisputable. Surpassing ten thousand six hundred miles proves his aptitude and promise."
Henry Lumin stayed quiet briefly before voicing his thoughts.
"It might be too soon to liken him to that era's Saintess," he noted cautiously. "But to write him off completely would be foolish as well."
"Hmph."
Garry Heron dropped the debate. He simply shifted his attention back to the projection, his features stiff and inscrutable. He seemed composed on the surface, but the resolve in his stare betrayed firm belief.
He was utterly convinced Max couldn't claim the twelfth layer.
No intricate logic or detailed analysis fueled that conviction. It stemmed from a profound grasp of bloodlines and rank. To him, one's heritage defined the limits of achievement.
A progenitor grade bloodline, however polished, paled against a Saintess's fully ignited Imperial Bloodline.
That era's Saintess had embodied the ultimate genius in the Black Dragon Clan. Her Imperial Bloodline was wholly activated, her mastery impeccable.
She wielded immense power, but even she hadn't pierced the twelfth layer during the Rebirth Realm.
To Garry, this stood as irrefutable evidence.
If a figure with such elite heritage couldn't enter the twelfth layer, unseen barriers must exist past raw power and understanding. The twelfth layer wasn't just an elevated phase. It was a barrier shielded by laws that maybe only the fated could pass.
He placed his hands behind his back and breathed out deliberately.
Max's showing so far was remarkable, he had to admit. Exceeding ten thousand five hundred miles in the eleventh layer was already phenomenal. Still, in Garry's eyes, it didn't elevate Max to the legendary Saintess's level.
Bloodline was crucial.
Foundation was essential.
Deep down, Garry felt the twelfth layer required elements beyond Max's grasp.
In the projection, flames surged wildly as Max pressed onward in the eleventh layer. Surrounding him, elders and family leaders observed mutely, minds split between hope and doubt.
Garry's stare held firm.
No matter Max's depth in the eleventh layer, Garry trusted the twelfth's threshold would stay intact.
To him, this wasn't hubris.
It was absolute assurance.
Right then, Max hit ten thousand seven hundred miles.
The figure blazed on the projection, etched like a mark in the annals.
Garry Heron's eyebrows flickered subtly at the sight. His prior assurance stayed visible, but his jaw clenched tighter.
He'd forecasted Max's slowdown before this point. Yet the disciple maintained his even pace from prior stages.
Inside the eleventh layer, flames raged unimaginably fierce. They didn't just scorch. They bore down like an imperial edict, warping the very space. The terrain under Max's steps quivered lightly, as if resisting his intrusion.
The flame laws here transcended simple disorder. They were honed, dense, nearly alive in their opposition.
Still, Max pressed on.
Ten thousand seven hundred and fifty miles.
Ten thousand eight hundred miles.