Chapter 567: Half Truths

Chapter 567: Half Truths

Max peered into his Dimension of Spirit, and what he saw brought a quiet sense of satisfaction.

The dragon egg now rested in the heart of a wide, open plain—its shell glowing faintly as the spirits that had followed him danced joyfully around it, almost like guardians, or perhaps kin reunited after a long slumber.

Far in the distance, removed from this area, was the small budding plant that marked the spirit he had been nurturing from the beginning. It stood solitary, growing steadily under the gentle sunlight that never dimmed in this dimension.

And that was exactly how Max wanted it—separated, undisturbed. The space was vast, and the presence of the dragon egg demanded its own realm, its own harmony, and its own quiet to grow. He didn’t want the two forces to intermingle too early.

“Blob,” Max called gently, standing beside the ever-reliable spirit, “keep an eye on the egg. Let me know if anything changes.”

Blob nodded, his little form shimmering with resolve. “Leave it to me. I’m a spirit, and I understand soul fluctuations well. If the soul inside that egg stirs, even slightly, I’ll let you know at once.”

Max gave a final glance to the peaceful plains of his inner world before pulling his consciousness back into his body.

As he opened his eyes, his gaze fell on the black dragon and Kane once more. The dragon watched in silence, its immense form unmoving, while Kane stood with his hands folded behind his back, expression unreadable.

Max didn’t waste time. “Now,” he said calmly but firmly, “tell me the truth. What is the real purpose behind bringing me here? I’ve passed the trials. I’ve met the masters. I know there’s more to this than just measuring talent or pushing geniuses to their limits. The last three floors—what are they truly for?”

Kane’s lips curled into a knowing smile, the kind that held both weight and weariness. “As I told you before,” he said slowly, “the Nine Dragons Painting is a failsafe and an ancient mechanism not just designed to test, but to awaken the raw potential of geniuses.”

Max nodded slowly, acknowledging Kane’s words, but deep within, a quiet doubt lingered like a shadow behind his eyes. Something didn’t sit right with him.

The elven master’s cryptic warnings, Ragnar’s serious tone, and now Kane’s half-truths—all of it painted a picture that felt larger than what he was being shown.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something deliberately being withheld from him. He had trusted his instincts too many times to ignore them now.

His eyes sharpened as he looked at Kane, the man who had remained so calm, so effortlessly composed in front of him. “Tell me something, Master Kane,” Max said, his voice low but steady. “You, Ragnar, and the elven master… are you three truly alive? Or are you just remnants, echoes—fragments of your souls left behind to guide and judge those who come here?”

He paused, then added with clear intent, “I felt the divine aura from the black dragon. It was suffocating. It felt real. Alive. But with you three… there’s something different. Faint. Almost like a shadow of what once was.” He met Kane’s eyes directly. “Instructor Virelia told me only your wills remain in the Nine Dragons Painting. But I need to hear the truth from you.”

Kane didn’t speak right away. For a long moment, he simply looked at Max, his calm eyes reflecting a complex mix of emotions—pride, sorrow, perhaps even guilt. Then he turned his gaze toward the sky, as if searching for something far beyond the stars that shimmered overhead.

“Perceptive,” Kane finally said, his voice softer than before, almost reflective. “We are alive but barely. Even when our strength reached the very peak of Divine Realm, one simply cannot run away from the corrosion of time. You should know even someone like a Divine Rank master could only live up to ten thousand years in this mortal world and after that they would die.”

He added. “The same rule applies in the Divine Realm. Even though we are strong, there is also a limit to one’s growth in Divine Realm but due to certain matters we don’t want to die and therefore we created this failsafe and from since then we have been inside this painting for a long time barely alive from the paintings unique nature. Even though we are at the limit of our lifespans, the painting has kept us alive for now.”

Max frowned deeply, his thoughts circling like a storm.

“What is the purpose of all this?” he asked, his voice laced with quiet intensity. “Why go to such extremes? Why fight the natural order of time, the inevitable decay of life itself? There must be a reason—something severe, something grave—for you and the others to choose this path.”

His eyes narrowed, searching Kane’s face for truth, for weight, for meaning.

But Kane only offered a rueful smile, and for the first time, he looked almost human—flawed, uncertain.

“That… that we can’t tell,” he said after a pause, the words slow, hesitant, even a little embarrassed. “Not yet. Not to you. Some truths can’t be handed over. They have to be earned… and understood, in the right time, by the right strength.”

Max let out a long sigh, the weight of uncertainty pressing against his chest. A part of him still burned with curiosity, aching to know the truth behind the Nine Dragons Painting and the Three Supreme Masters—what dangers, what decisions, what ancient chaos had driven them to embed their souls into a timeless artifact and linger in limbo.

But at the same time, another part of him, the grounded part, was tired of chasing shadows. He wasn’t here for history or secrets. Not now.

Whatever this painting was hiding—whatever mystery, power, or prophecy lay buried within—it wasn’t his priority. Not yet. One day, when he reached the Divine Realm, when his strength could tear through heavens and shake empires, maybe then he would pull the truth from the sky itself.

But until that day came, he had only one path, and only one goal—become stronger. Strong enough to protect those he loved, strong enough to cut through fate itself, if needed.

With that resolve firm in his heart, Max clenched his fists. The answers could wait. His strength could not.

“Can I leave now?” Max asked, his voice calm but resolute. There was no impatience in his tone, only clarity—clarity born of purpose. He had come to the Nine Dragons Painting expecting only a trial, a chance to prove himself worthy of the so-called True Inheritance.

But what he encountered instead was far more than any trial. He faced shadow warriors, mastered the three supreme inheritances to perfection, clashed with one of the ancient creators of the Black Dragon Palace, and even stood before a true dragon of primordial origin.

He had taken into himself the responsibility of nurturing a dragon egg born from an age when gods walked the world. He had learned things about his two bloodlines, legacies, and power that most wouldn’t even hear in myths.

He had done enough. The weight of what he had achieved in these past days was still settling over him, and now, more than ever, his heart pulled toward Acaris—toward the Lower Domain.

He didn’t need more trials. He didn’t need more mysteries or revelations. Not now. What he needed was time—time to grow, to prepare, to take the gifts he had earned and shape them into something unshakable.

Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!