My Charity System made me too OP

The elder stepped back. "You've reached a threshold now. But understand—Absolute Return is not a weapon. It is a law. Misuse it, and you will break before it does."

Leon nodded. "I'll earn every step."

The elder turned, vanishing into the tunnel's glow.

Roselia looked down at the shard in Leon's hand. "So what's next?"

Leon, eyes still fixed on the glowing rings within the shard, smiled faintly. "Next… we ascend. After a night of actual rest."

Roman exhaled, relieved. "Finally. I'm making everyone steak."

Naval grinned. "I'm just glad I won't need to catch you in a blood puddle again tonight."

Leon just laughed.

That night, for the first time in what felt like weeks, there was no fighting. No training, no chanting echoing from the arena walls. Just the warm flicker of lanterns in their obsidian lodge and the quiet sounds of plates clinking, drinks being poured, and the occasional burst of laughter.

They had taken refuge in a terrace hall built into the side of the arena mountain—a rare haven built for champions who survived past Rank 50. It overlooked a vast lava-lit cavern, the glowing rivers casting gold-orange hues across the black stone walls.

Leon sat with his legs folded near the edge, his gaze steady on the river of molten rock far below. Roselia rested beside him, her hand loosely curled around his. Her presence was soft but grounding—his calm in the whirlwind.

Behind them, Roman stood over a stone grill, flipping thick cuts of meat with a self-satisfied grin. "Nothing heals post-battle trauma like steak. That's a fact."

Milim lounged upside down on a floating slab of stone, chewing aggressively on something spicy and red. "This is still too tame. We should totally raid a floating dungeon next."

Naval rolled her eyes, seated cross-legged, polishing her twin sabers. "You say that every time someone isn't bleeding."

Liliana, who had been meditating with slow, harmonic breaths, finally opened her eyes and smiled. "We're getting close, aren't we?"

Leon nodded slowly. "Level 600… Tier VIII. But these next ranks aren't like the last."

He held up the shard the elder had given him—the Echo Seed. It pulsed softly with that strange gravity, like it contained time itself.

"I unlocked Counter-Void," Leon said, voice low but resolute. "It's not just power. It's… a vow. To stand my ground without yielding. To absorb and return not just force—but the intent behind it. To make impact meaningful."

Roselia's thumb brushed over his. "Then make sure your heart stays steady. That's the only way Absolute Return won't consume you."

Leon smiled faintly. "It won't. I've got all of you anchoring me."

The night wore on in peaceful silence. After the food, after the laughter and shared memories, after Liliana cast a soft slumber charm over their room—Leon stood once more, stepping out into the cool obsidian breeze alone.

He looked up.

Above the lava-lit dome, far beyond the carved ceilings, was a darkness too deep to be night.

And somewhere beyond that—

The Tower's summit still waited.

He clenched his fists, feeling the Shell Reverb flow through him, layered now with Counter-Void. He remembered the way the Echo-King had struck, the way pain had echoed inward, and how he had turned it into strength.

His voice was quiet, but resolute.

"Rank 48... I'm coming."

And with that vow, he turned and walked back into the lodge—into rest, and into tomorrow's battle.

Obsidian Arena — Day of the Rank 48 Challenge

The blackstone gates parted with a deep rumble.

Obsidian dust flared as Leon stepped into the newly revealed chamber—larger than the last, eerily quiet. No crowd this time. No cheers. Just a quiet, oppressive pressure that weighed on his lungs and bones. This wasn't a normal match.

This was a test.

The chamber's core was empty stone—a wide circle marked with ancient sigils etched into the ground, glowing faintly with crimson and blue. In the center stood the next opponent.

Rank 48: Fleshglass Echo

It wasn't a creature. Not entirely. It looked humanoid, but its body was translucent—ribbons of nerves and blood vessels visible beneath semi-solid flesh. Its face was a mirror-like surface, reflecting Leon's own image. Its limbs pulsed with shifting mass, fluid and solid at once.

It didn't speak. It didn't need to.

A voice resonated from the glyphs under Leon's feet:

"Rank 48 Trial Initiated: Echo Construct will replicate the challenger's Shell Pulse and fighting instinct at 80% accuracy. Any weakness will be amplified. Absolute Return is under watch."

Leon exhaled slowly.

"So it's me. But twisted."

He stepped forward, shoulders relaxing. The fight began with no warning.

The Echo Construct lunged—its motion eerily similar to Leon's own counter-pivot. Shell Reverb erupted from its joints, mimicking his Tier II execution with brutal precision.

Leon dodged barely in time, shocked as the construct's reverb pulse slammed the ground, fracturing it.

It learned Shell Reverb perfectly.

He retaliated with a snap-kick, but the construct absorbed it through its elastic mass, sending a double palm strike into Leon's ribs.

Crack!

He coughed blood, skidding across the obsidian floor, pain burning down his spine.

Leon gritted his teeth, activating Counter-Void. The pain bled into motion—his stance settled lower, his breath synchronized with his pulse.

Then came the trade.

Fists collided—Shell Pulse against Shell Pulse. Reverb clashed, creating a storm of mirrored force. Bones cracked. The arena walls shook.

Leon moved like water. The Construct moved like memory.

But memory had limits.

Leon grinned, blood on his lip, as he whispered, "You don't evolve. I do."

With a flick of his wrist, golden light erupted—his Gold Magic twisting through the air like a filament of sunlight, turning into shields and exploding spears.

The Echo flickered. It tried to adapt—Aether blood surged in its veins—but its mimicry was only skin-deep.

Leon pulled his power inward, body igniting with the faint black cracks of Destruction Core and the pulsing red glyphs of Aetherblood Surge. His heart beat once—

—and his body became pure force.

The staff in his hand became an extension of his intent, coated with abyssal gold, bleeding with purpose.

"End this."

Leon rushed in, his Shell Reverb and Counter-Void uniting. The construct met him halfway—and for a single second, time seemed to stop.

BOOM—

The floor shattered beneath them. A crater formed as the Construct's mirror-face cracked, then split entirely.

Light erupted from the broken body as the construct dissolved into shimmering motes of essence.

[ You have defeated Rank 48: Fleshglass Echo. ]

[ You have endured the Echo Trial. ]

[ Shell Reverb: Mastery increased to 51%. New Subform Unlocked: Mirror Echo. ]

[ Counter-Void: Stability confirmed. Layer One complete. ]

Leon stood in the ruin of the arena, panting, every muscle screaming. His knuckles were raw. His ribs broken.

But he smiled.

"I win."

As he limped out of the arena, the elder Ant from before stood waiting—staff in hand, eyes solemn.

"You have walked deeper into the Reverb than any foreigner has before. The Echo has been shattered—but to truly control it… you must learn to let it return."

Leon raised an eyebrow, blood running down his chin. "Another lesson?"

The elder nodded.