My Charity System made me too OP

The place was not part of the Tower.

It was beneath it. Beside it. Outside it.

A space the Choir had carved from the structure's seams long ago, where the rhythm of the world couldn't reach.

Here, no pulse echoed.

Only intention.

Four figures stood in a circle, their faces hidden by masks of varying shape and design.

The Fifth Voice—a hunched figure draped in null-thread robes—knelt in the center, staring into a spiraling mirror of broken tempo fragments.

"She beat Lira," the Fifth Voice whispered. "She destroyed the Echoform."

The Third Voice, whose mask had no eyes, turned slightly.

"As expected. The Vanguard has matured."

The Second Voice folded their arms. Their tone was dry. "Renic's failure was loud. Lira's loss, deafening. We must now act."

The First Voice had not spoken yet.

They hovered above the others, taller, stiller—neither male nor female, neither light nor dark.

They spoke with no sound, but the others heard it clearly.

"She has made a rhythm we did not write.

Now we must end the song."

The Fourth Voice finally approached the circle, carrying a crystal container filled with shimmering pulse matter.

"Then shall we begin the Refrain?"

The First Voice nodded once.

"Gather the stolen rhythms.

Bury them in silence.

Let her hear what comes after the last note."

"The Refrain… begins now."

Choir Refrain Activation – Stage One

Floor 344 – Isolation Node Online

Floor 353 – Pulse Inversion Complete

Floor 369 – Silence Seed Ready

Back in the Tower's sovereign war room, a silent alarm triggered on the master rhythm map.

Kael, watching from the main console, stood slowly as three floors blinked red—one after another.

Leon entered moments later, already reading the codes.

"They're not done."

Kael looked at him.

"No," he said. "They're starting something worse."

The Sovereign War Room was never this quiet.

Not even during floor crises.

Not even during the Collapse.

But now, three red pulses blinked on the master Tower map.

Floor 344 – Isolation Node Online

Floor 353 – Pulse Inversion Complete

Floor 369 – Silence Seed Ready

Each blinked with the same tag:

RE:ACTIVATION // REFRAIN PHASE I

Leon leaned over the map table, eyes locked.

Kael stood beside him, reviewing cross-data feeds from all three floors.

Aris arrived last, her jacket still scorched at the collar from the Echoform battle. She walked in with her baton at her side and a calm look in her eyes—but inside, she could already feel it:

The Tower was changing tempo.

Roselia, seated near the side console, was the first to speak.

"All three sites lit up at the same time. The Choir isn't being subtle anymore."

Kael pulled up quick diagnostics. "Each floor has its own specialty. Floor 344—communication relays. Floor 353—weapon prototyping. Floor 369…" He paused.

Leon looked at him. "What?"

Kael slowly turned the data pad around.

"Floor 369's primary function was memory anchoring. The Choir seeded silence into the place where the Tower keeps its oldest rhythm patterns."

Aris's stomach turned slightly. "They're trying to wipe the Tower's history."

"Worse," Kael said. "They're trying to rewrite it."

Leon looked across the team. "We can't split. If we divide now, we give them a chance to isolate us like they did with Renic. We go together."

"But which floor?" Roselia asked. "We can't protect all three at once."

Kael touched the map.

"If we hit 344 first, we might stop them from using the comm relays to spread the Refrain across floors."

"353 has the most destructive potential," Roselia added. "If their weapons lab is repurposed... they could broadcast null rhythm as a weapon."

Aris stepped forward.

"369."

Everyone looked at her.

"Why?" Leon asked.

She tapped the memory glyphs on the map.

"Because that's where the Choir is hiding the original silence."

Kael frowned. "You think it's not just an experiment?"

Aris nodded. "I think the Refrain ends there. If we don't stop it, the whole Tower could forget what rhythm even means."

Leon considered it for a moment.

Then nodded.

"Prep the gear. We move on Floor 369 in one hour."

Floor 369 – Sublevel Entrance

T+1 hour 23 minutes

The elevator doors opened.

And what lay before them wasn't silence.

It was a graveyard of sound.

Memory strands floated like wisps. Echoes of voices played with no mouth. A child's laughter. A training bell. A mother's last song.

All of it… broken.

Aris stepped out first.

Her baton pulsed faintly.

Kael whispered behind her.

"They're not erasing memory anymore."

Roselia added, voice cold, "They're stealing identity."

Leon raised his weapon.

"Then let's take it back."

And together, they stepped into the hollow of history—

where the Refrain waited.

Floor 369 wasn't abandoned.

It was haunted.

Not by ghosts, but by echoes—fragmented shards of memory, stolen from Ascenders, Sovereigns, even the Tower itself.

The corridors were lined with floating rhythm wisps—glimmering like snowflakes, each pulsing with a beat from the past.

Leon moved first, weapon drawn, eyes sharp. Kael scanned the air constantly, trying to track signal frequencies, but the readings were erratic. The pulse grid here had no center.

Roselia whispered, "It's like being inside a memory that doesn't know what it belongs to."

They passed an old archive room.

Aris paused at the doorway.

Inside, a light flickered—then played an image.

A girl, maybe six, practicing her first baton strike in a training ring. Her stance awkward. Determined.

Kael saw her stop and step forward.

"Is that you?" he asked.

Aris didn't speak.

The image looped.

Again and again.

Until the girl faltered—and the scene rewrote itself. Her strike missed. She fell. Laughed.

Then cried.

Then screamed.

Aris clenched her jaw. "They're editing my past."

Roselia reached for the projection glyph. "Shut it down?"

"No," Aris said. "Let it play."

Kael looked at her. "Why?"

"Because I need to remember what's real."

They moved deeper.

At the central junction, Leon suddenly stopped cold.

His own voice—young, shaken—echoed from a nearby chamber.

"We weren't supposed to survive. We were just tempo bait—me, my team. They sent us in first."

Leon stepped inside before anyone could stop him.

A memory shimmered into view.