Chapter 528: Five levels of a Concept
Max took a slow breath, letting his gaze wander over the fine furnishings. His eyes eventually settled on a particular section of the bookshelf, where a collection of books sat neatly aligned.
One title imdiately caught his attention—True Inheritance. The spine was etched in gold, and sothing about it pulled at his curiosity. He stepped forward, took the book from its place, and began to flip through its pages.
The text within was written in an elegant hand, detailing the structure, expectations, and trials that lay ahead for anyone chosen to complete the True Inheritance of the Black Dragon Palace.
The deeper Max read, the clearer the picture beca: intense spiritual training, law comprehension chambers, physical trials designed to push his body beyond its limits, and above all, a test involving the Nine Dragons Painting—a legendary trial that every genius had to go through.
“I’m going to be busy from tomorrow,” Max muttered, closing the book with a thoughtful expression. He carefully placed it back where it belonged, then turned and walked toward the bed, letting his body settle on its edge.
“It also ntioned there are a total of five levels in a Concept… in any Concept,” Max muttered under his breath, brows slightly raised in thought as he sat back on the edge of the bed. A hint of genuine surprise lingered in his voice.
He had expected a Concept to have levels like Auras but to have five levels was a surprise for him too.
“If a Level 1 Concept is already this strong…” Max murmured, his eyes narrowing slightly, “then how terrifying would a Level 5 Concept be?”
He tried to imagine it—sword energy so refined it could slice through space itself, flas that ignored physical resistance and burned through Laws, space so dense and precise it could fold realms… His mind buzzed with the possibilities.
He couldn’t even begin to grasp how soone wielding a fully mastered Concept would fight.
That level of control… that kind of power… it had to be the domain of Divine Rank experts—those unfathomable existences that ruled the Middle Domain and stood at the summit of Acaris.
‘Middle Domain…’ The na lingered in his thoughts like a distant call, a land he had never stepped into but felt bound to reach. That was where the true experts and the legendary geniuses of Acaris gathered—where bloodlines were purer, resources deeper, and the battlefield far more brutal.
Compared to the Lower Domain, the Middle Domain was a world shaped by endless ambition and unfathomable talent. And Max knew… if he wanted to climb to the peak, if he wanted to find his sister, if he wanted to ascend to the Divine Realm to find his family—then the Middle Domain was his next destination.
But first, he had one task left—the Monarch. That storm hadn’t passed. Not yet. He would deal with it, bring an end to it. And after that… his path would lead him to the true proving grounds of this world. To the heart of the storm. To the Middle Domain.
‘Well, that’s a matter for a different ti.’ Max shook his head and thought about a problem he had ca into while training in the Tower of Truth.
Reaching into his spatial space, he retrieved the long, jet-black sword that had followed him since the early days of his journey. He held it in his lap and slowly ran his fingers over the blade. Thin, almost imperceptible cracks spiderwebbed across its surface—hairline fractures that hadn’t been there before.
“The more I channel my Concept of Severing Sword through it,” Max whispered, “the more it breaks.” There was a trace of lancholy in his voice as he stared at the weapon.
This sword had been with him from his first dungeon, had faced death with him, cut down enemies far stronger than he was, and helped him carve a path through impossible odds. He had grown stronger with it in his hand. And now… it was fading.
—
[Black Steel Sword]
– Rank: Epic
– Description: A sword once wielded by a forr master of the Black Lotus guild, forged to draw out the sharpness and intensity of black flas. Though durable and sharp, it was never ant to withstand the sharp edge of sword concepts.
—
“I guess this sword wasn’t ant to handle such a sharp Concept,” Max muttered, his tone quiet, tinged with reluctant acceptance as he gently set the weapon aside.
He ran a final glance across its worn surface—the cracks barely visible, but to him, each fracture told a story, each scar a mory.
This wasn’t just a weapon. It had been a companion since his earliest battles.
But now… it had reached its end. All things, no matter how loyal, had limits.
He let out a slow breath and rose to his feet, his eyes turning to the weapon rack across the room. It was finely crafted, built into the wall with dark lacquered wood and golden runes etched along the edges.
Swords, spears, axes, even bows and quivers filled with sleek arrows were neatly arranged in individual slots—each weapon humming faintly with dormant energy.
But Max didn’t spare a glance at the spears or bows. His eyes were drawn only to the swords.
Stepping forward, he reached out and took one—an obsidian blade with a faint red line running down the middle. He tested its weight in his hand, swung it twice, then channeled a trace of his Concept of Severing Sword through it.
The response was imdiate—and disappointing. The mana didn’t flow cleanly. It t resistance. The sword vibrated awkwardly in his hand before he returned it to the rack without hesitation.
He tried another—sleeker, silver-edged, with a dragon-etched guard. Again, the flow stuttered. Again, it failed.
He continued on like this—drawing, testing, infusing his concept, and returning—over a dozen tis. Each sword was beautiful, balanced, and deadly in its own right.
All of them radiated the strength of Epic Rank craftsmanship. But to Max, they might as well have been blunt sticks. None of them resonated with him. None of them responded the way his Concept demanded.
The Severing Sword wasn’t just a concepts anymore—it was an extension of his will, his understanding of cutting through essence, energy, and intent. If the weapon couldn’t carry that sharpness naturally, it would break. Just like the Black Steel Sword.
Max stepped back from the rack and frowned, arms folded, his mind calculating.
‘All of them are Epic Rank swords…’ he thought with narrowed eyes. His concept had evolved beyond what common forging could withstand and these Epic Rank swords simply weren’t enough for him.
‘I guess only Legendary Rank swords will be able to handle my Sword Concept now,’ he mused, his expression calm but inwardly burning with anticipation.
Max spent the remainder of the day within the stillness of the Dinsion of Ti. Seated cross-legged in the vast emptiness of that tiless realm, his focus remained entirely fixed on the Chaos Tree growing within his inner world.
It stood quietly in his soul sea—no longer sprouting new branches, but pulsing with a faint, ancient rhythm, as though it were a part of sothing far older than himself.
He examined every inch of it: the thick trunk ford from pure chaos energy, the four distinct branches representing the Concepts he had comprehended, and the strange leaves at the end of each branch—each one exuding an aura that felt connected to the source Laws of the universe.
‘Does it offer any benefit beyond resonance?’ Max often wondered during his long hours of analysis. There were no descriptions, no guides, no past reference to follow. Even the system remained silent about its true nature.
And yet, as he ditated, he noticed sothing subtle—the longer he focused on the Chaos Tree, the more stable his concepts beca, as though the tree wasn’t just holding them but refining them.
The lines of his Sword Concept felt sharper, the essence of his Fla Concept more controlled, and his grasp over Space and Lightning more fluid than before. It wasn’t much, not yet, but it was enough for Max to sense that the Chaos Tree was not just for display.
And just like that, the rest of the day passed in silent contemplation, with Max erging from the Dinsion of Ti only after the suns of Obsidian Dragon City had long set beyond the crimson horizon.
‘Ti to continue the trial of True Inheritance.’ Max thought standing and leaving his room.
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give more motivation!
User Comments
0 comments from readers