Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100-Chapter 550: Easy Passing the 4th floor

This floor wasn’t about raw destruction, nor about clever manipulation of one’s inheritance through fine control—it was a brutal test of endurance, pure and relentless.

He would face ten shadow warriors, each matching his strength, speed, techniques, and abilities at his current peak. Worse still, he would not be allowed to use anything beyond the inheritances he had comprehended inside the Comprehension Hall.

No system support, no other abilities, no personal skills outside of those inherited legacies. It meant every advantage he’d built outside those inheritances was stripped away.

The first three floors had challenged one’s power, patience, and precision, but this... this fourth floor marked the true beginning of the trial’s cruelty.

To go up against his own strength again and again, without rest, knowing each opponent was designed to test every aspect of what he had learned—every mistake would cost him stamina, every lapse in concentration would chip away at his energy.

By the time they reached the ninth or tenth opponent, if they did, their strength would be depleted, their mana reduced, their body drained, and yet they would still have to fight a shadow warrior that was fresh and full.

Max’s expression hardened. This was a test only those who had truly understood the foundation of their inheritances could pass—not those who dabbled, or barely touched the surface.

And it was at that moment, he fully understood why this floor had been placed here—after the easy illusion of progress in the first three, this was the dividing line between the imitators and the true successors.

’But this test is useless against me.’ Max thought as his eyes caught the sudden appearance of ten shadow warriors appearing in the arena. The warriors stood tall like grim sentinels of death, their humanoid frames forged entirely from writhing black flames that flickered unnaturally in the still air.

Their forms looked as if they were born from torment and shadows, pulsing with the aura of vengeance. Each step they took left behind scorching footprints, faint trails of ember marking their encroaching path.

What stood out most, however, were their eyes—or rather, the lack of emotion within them. Piercing and pure white, like polished bone, their eyes glowed from within the dark inferno that made up their faces, staring at Max with a chilling intent, void of anything human.

Just as these shadow warriors appeared before him, black flames burst from Max’s arms as his they twisted and warped, molding into jagged, obsidian claws pulsing with heat and destructive power.

"Third Form: Infernal Ripclaw."

The infernal aura around him surged, the ground beneath his feet sizzling as the black flames licked the stone. His eyes glinted with calm dominance as the ten shadow warriors charged at him, each moving with synchronized precision.

They were fast—very fast—and the weapons in their hands shimmered with pure elemental aggression. Some carried flaming spears, others dark sabers, one even wielded a jagged halberd that seemed to cut the air itself.

But Max didn’t flinch.

The first two warriors reached him almost simultaneously. Max stepped forward with a sudden burst of speed, ducked under a slash, and drove his clawed hand into the first warrior’s chest.

His claws twisted violently and erupted in a miniature explosion of black fire from within, reducing the shadow into crumbling embers.

He spun mid-air and slashed upward with his other arm, tearing through the second warrior’s weapon and splitting its form in half as if cleaving through silk.

The next three didn’t even have time to react. Max’s body blurred. He reappeared behind them, claws ripping through all three simultaneously in an arcing motion. Their bodies flickered, unstable, and disintegrated like ash scattered by wind.

Five down. Five remained.

The next one tried to leap from above, but Max raised his arm and caught its blade between two clawed fingers.

"Too slow," he muttered, before gripping the shadow warrior by its throat and slamming it down with force that cracked the arena floor. A burst of black flame followed—point-blank. The warrior was gone.

Another came from behind, but Max’s Three Dimensional Body was flawless. He saw through the attack.

He swiveled, met the warrior mid-charge, and clashed claws against sword. The air trembled at the impact. Max’s claws overpowered the weapon, and with a twisting motion, he sheared through both blade and wielder in one feral strike.

Three more.

Two flanked him on either side, while the last held back, charging a technique, its form glowing ominously.

Max smirked. "Let’s end this."

He lunged to the left, his claws dragging along the ground, leaving a glowing molten trail.

He leapt and drove a claw through the head of the one on the left, then used its dissolving body as a springboard. Flipping mid-air, he dashed toward the second, raking his claw across its torso, tearing through the black fire that held it together.

Only one remained.

That last shadow warrior released its charged technique—a massive blast of condensed flame energy surging like a comet.

Max raised his hand, black fire condensing around his arm into a jagged spiral.

"Infernal Ripclaw: Burst Rend!"

He slashed, and a wave of black infernal force cut through the blast like it was paper. The technique shattered. Max appeared before the final shadow warrior and drove both claws into its core, ripping it apart in a torrent of black flames that swirled upward like a storm.

All ten gone.

Max stood amidst a field of crumbled shadows, the scorched ground beneath him still pulsing with heat. He exhaled lightly, black flames slowly receding from his arms.

"This trial really was useless against me," he muttered, his voice calm and unwavering as the remains of the ten defeated shadow warriors dissolved into smoke and ash, leaving behind nothing but scorch marks etched into the arena—a showcase to the one-sided massacre that had just taken place.

And why wouldn’t it be a one sided massacre.

Max’s strength was at the 7th level of Seeker Rank and so all the shadow warriors were also at that rank but his combat strength was a different story altogether. And so no matter how many of them came, they were nothing but ants in front of Max.

"This should be the fifth floor," Max muttered as his eyes scanned the space around him. He was still standing in the same endless arena—stone flooring stretching out in every direction, flat and cracked with age, yet devoid of any walls or boundaries.

Then, from above, a familiar screech pierced the quiet as a flying creature descended from the dark sky—its wings jagged like shards of obsidian, its body steaming with molten cracks. Clutched in its talons was a large stone tablet, which it released before him with a resounding thud.

Etched upon the rough surface of the tablet were the rules of the fifth-floor trial:

"Trial Challenger, you have arrived on the fifth floor, making you an outstanding genius. But to ascend to the sixth floor, you must defeat 30 shadow warriors. Only after defeating them all will you be granted passage."

Max sighed softly after reading the inscription aloud. ’So the fourth, fifth, and sixth floors are designed as endurance trials, forcing one to face increasing numbers of enemies. Not bad for those testing the limits of their inheritances... but still meaningless to me.’

Just as that thought settled in his mind—

Swish!

A gust of wind swept past him as space twisted before his eyes. One after another, shadow warriors emerged from the warped air, their dark bodies crackling with flame-like energy, their white, emotionless eyes locking onto Max like wolves spotting a lone prey.

But this time, their number had tripled—thirty of them now stood before him in a semicircle formation.

All of them bore weapons in hand—shadowy spears, curved blades, jagged axes, and obsidian halberds—and the moment they sensed his presence, they didn’t hesitate.

Whoosh!

They charged all at once, boots pounding against the arena stone, weapons raised high. Their cries were voiceless, but their killing intent surged like a black tide.

And yet, Max stood there—his posture relaxed, his eyes indifferent.

"Let’s try the Crimson Reaper inheritance this time," he whispered.