Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

"So 'that's' why you let it get stolen…" Klaus muttered, his eyes narrowing as the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

The Old Saintess nodded.

"Yes," she admitted.

"I knew that no matter how hard we tried, the 'bloodline would never submit' to anyone we chose."

Her voice remained steady, but there was something almost unsettling about her certainty.

"So I let it escape, believing that the one 'destined' to claim it would eventually find it."

A pause.

Then, a sigh.

And then—

Her expression shifted.

Something more personal. More bitter.

"'But'… I just didn't expect the one to steal it would be 'Little Darion'."

For the first time, there was something akin to emotion in her tone.

A softness.

But also—bitterness.

"His betrayal still hurts my little heart."

She placed a hand over her chest, her usual unreadable expression replaced by a hint of nostalgia.

Yet Klaus could tell.

That wasn't disappointment.

She was just like this.

Klaus remained silent for a moment, digesting everything she had just revealed.

It wasn't shocking that she had orchestrated such a plan.

She was the Old Saintess, the most experienced, the most calculating figure in their guild.

Every action. Every decision. Every move.

It was always a part of something bigger.

But—

What really troubled him was the implication she had just made.

His voice was measured, cautious.

"You're saying… that after all this time—after 'countless' failures and deaths—Max somehow 'got' the bloodline that no one else could claim?"

The Old Saintess's gaze darkened slightly.

Her fingers tapped softly against the armrest of her chair.

Klaus exhaled.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Then, finally, he voiced the question neither of them wanted to ask.

"You're saying… the bloodline 'chose him'?"

The words hung in the air.

Unspoken weight pressing down on them.

Because if that was true—

If that monstrous, uncontrollable, forbidden bloodline had willingly chosen Max—

Then he wasn't just a successor.

He wasn't just a prodigy.

He was something else entirely.

The Old Saintess met Klaus's gaze, her expression utterly unreadable.

Then—her voice, calm but deliberate.

"There are only 'two' known types of bloodlines that can sustain a power like ours. The 'Bloodline of a Saintess' and the 'Progenitor Bloodline'. That is common knowledge."

A brief pause.

Then—

"But…"

Her voice lowered, turning heavier—weighted with something deeper.

"There exists 'another' bloodline. One greater than the two we know."

Klaus stiffened.

His body instinctively tensed.

Because—he had never heard of anything beyond the Progenitor Bloodline.

And yet, the Old Saintess continued.

Her words came slow. Measured.

"It is called the 'Source Bloodline'."

Silence.

An unnatural, suffocating silence filled the room.

Klaus's mind raced.

This wasn't just some powerful bloodline.

This wasn't just an ancient inheritance lost to time.

She was talking about something else entirely.

"The legends say," the Old Saintess continued, "that this bloodline is the 'origin' of 'all' bloodlines in our world."

Her gaze remained steady.

"That every power, every inheritance, every lineage we cultivate can be traced back to it."

Klaus exhaled sharply.

His fingers clenched instinctively, his mind running through every piece of knowledge he had ever learned.

But nothing—not a single text, not a single legend, not even the deepest secrets of the guild—had ever mentioned this.

Yet, before he could respond—

The Old Saintess spoke again.

"And I 'suspect'… that 'Max possesses the Source Bloodline'."

A breath hitched in Klaus's throat.

His entire posture shifted.

"'You're saying… he has the origin of all bloodlines?'"

She nodded.

Without hesitation. Without doubt.

"That is also why he could 'suppress me and you' despite his so-called 'ant-like' strength."

Then—

Her next words sent a chill down his spine.

"Because the Source Bloodline is absolute."

A bloodline above all others.

A power that was never meant to exist.

And yet—Max had it.

And now, everything—the suppression, the unnatural pull, the way his presence commanded submission—

It all made sense.

Max wasn't just strong.

He was something entirely beyond their comprehension.

Klaus's mind raced.

In all his years as the leader of the Black Lotus Guild, he had never heard of such a thing.

He had studied every record, read through every diary of their ancestors, scoured through every ancient tome the guild possessed—

But not once had there been any mention of a Source Bloodline.

His voice came out slow. Cautious.

"I don't understand… If this bloodline is real, then why has it never been recorded in any of our texts?"

The Old Saintess chuckled softly.

As if she had expected this question.

As if this was the most predictable thing he could have asked.

Then—

She leaned back slightly, her fingers tapping idly on the wooden chair.

"Because, Klaus," she said, her tone almost amused, "even in the 'Four God Nations', only a 'handful' of individuals have ever heard whispers of the 'Source Bloodline'. Let alone a 'puny Lower Domain' like ours."

A beat of silence.

Then—

Her next words made Klaus's blood run cold.

"I only learned of it through an 'ancient dimension'—one that belongs to our guild."

A slight pause.

Then, in a lower voice—

"Or should I say… our 'palace'."

Klaus's fists clenched slightly.

Because she was right.

The Black Lotus Guild was once something far greater.

A force feared by nations, by emperors, by gods—the Black Dragon Palace.

And if there was anything older than the guild itself—

It was the remnants of that palace.

An ancient dimension, filled with secrets, knowledge, and mysteries lost to time.

A place so sacred, so forbidden, that even some seniors in the Middle Domain would never enter.

"Enough said," the Old Saintess suddenly declared, pushing herself up from her chair. "Let's go. I want to see what floor he reaches in the tower."

Without another word, she stepped toward the door.

Klaus followed, his expression calm, but his mind?

A whirlwind of thoughts.

'I've learned more about our bloodline in the last few minutes than I ever have since becoming the leader of this guild,' he mused bitterly.

The irony wasn't lost on him.

He had spent years, decades even, searching for answers about their origins.

And yet—in the span of a single conversation, the foundation of everything he thought he knew had shifted.

Yet, amidst all the uncertainty—

One question loomed above all else.

A question he couldn't ignore.

A question that clawed at the edges of his rationality.

'If Max truly possesses the Source Bloodline… then what does that make him?'