My Charity System made me too OP

The Sparring Grounds weren't marked by banners or gates. In Arkhe City, titles meant little, and strength was never advertised—it was simply felt.

Leon and the others followed the quiet directions from the black token Valek had thrown. The streets led them toward a lowered section of the city, built into a crater-like basin. There was no crowd. No guards. Just a wide, open arena built from steel, stone, and scorched earth.

On a raised stone platform, a group of warriors watched the arena below. Some stood with arms crossed. Others rested with blades across their laps. A few meditated with eyes closed.

None of them reacted when Leon's group arrived.

A glowing sign above the entry arch read:

[Sparring Grounds of Blades]

– Entry by Recognition Only –

You must prove your presence to be noticed.

Roman blinked. "What does that mean?"

Kael looked around. "They're not interested in talk."

Leon stepped forward and dropped the token Valek had given him into a socket embedded in the platform. The ground trembled lightly. Then a voice echoed from the arena walls.

"Unknown Challenger acknowledged."

"To enter the Sparring Grounds, present your worth through combat."

"Select one: Duel, Group Trial, or Sovereign Gaze."

Leon's eyes scanned the options. He already understood.

A Duel was one-on-one, straightforward, likely brutal.

A Group Trial would test the whole team.

And Sovereign Gaze… that meant being judged directly by one of the current Sovereigns watching from above.

He turned to the others.

"I'm taking the Duel. Alone."

Milim looked like she wanted to protest, but Roselia placed a hand on her shoulder. "Let him."

Leon walked forward and stepped into the arena circle. As soon as his foot crossed the outer ring, the world shifted.

Trial Initiated: Duel Combat – Upper Tower Tier Recognition Match

Challenger: Leon Aetheren

Opponent: Chosen by Arkhe Arena

Designation: Trialblade Sentinel No. 3 – Elvar Korr

A flash of light burst across the far side of the arena. A man stepped forward—tall, lean, with silver gauntlets and glowing tattoos on his arms. He was calm, quiet, and armed with two short sabers.

He didn't speak.

He just bowed.

Leon nodded once and summoned his blade.

The Fight Begins

Elvar moved first. His sabers flickered, and within seconds, ten cuts had been aimed at Leon's chest, shoulders, and neck.

Leon didn't block them.

He dodged.

Clean, efficient steps. Small movements.

Elvar stepped back, just slightly surprised. Then came again, faster.

This time, Leon activated Shell Reverb: Tripart Echo, layering his reactions through past momentum. The echoes blurred his form for just a moment—enough to intercept the second wave of attacks and redirect their force with Absolute Return.

Elvar skidded back.

The crowd above stirred—some turning their heads. A few leaned forward.

One of them muttered, "That's a Shell Pulse user…? Haven't seen one of those in a while."

Elvar's third charge was more intense.

He activated a technique that split into three mirror images of himself. Each moved independently, and one landed a cut on Leon's arm.

Blood hit the ground.

Leon didn't flinch.

He closed his eyes for a second.

And then he stepped.

The Shell Reverb inside him hummed, pulsed, and exploded outward—not as a blast of power, but as a perfect synchronization of sound, pressure, and timing.

His blade moved once.

All three illusions disappeared.

The real Elvar had both sabers locked—but his arms were trembling.

Leon didn't shout. He didn't strike again.

He just stepped forward.

Elvar dropped his sabers and knelt.

Trial Completed

Challenger: Leon Aetheren – Victory Achieved

Rank: Acknowledged

Access Granted: Sparring Grounds of Blades

Above, one of the Sovereigns finally stood.

It was Irn Valek.

He looked down at the arena, then spoke with a calm voice that somehow reached the entire crater.

"You want to climb. That's clear."

"But this wasn't even the first step."

"If you want to challenge me—meet me at the Black Spiral."

And then he vanished again.

Leon stood in the center of the arena, breathing steady. Behind him, the rest of the team stepped down to join him.

Roman gave a small smile. "So… we're really doing this?"

Roselia checked her gear. "We'll need to train harder. That was just one of the city's gatekeepers."

Leon looked at the horizon—where the city twisted upward toward a black spiraling tower in the sky.

"That's where we're headed next."

The sky over Arkhe dimmed into a red twilight as the group stood at the edge of the Sparring Grounds. Above them, far across the floating cityscape, the Black Spiral towered—twisting upward like a thorn in the clouds.

It wasn't a building.

It was a proving ground.

A coliseum carved into the bones of a Leviathan slain thousands of years ago, its massive blackened ribs spiraling skyward. Its aura was heavier than any floor Leon had climbed before. The very air near it crackled with restrained violence, like the space remembered every battle ever fought within its walls.

And soon, it would remember his.

The Black Spiral – Exterior

The path leading to the tower was narrow and exposed. No guards stood at its gates. No announcements were made. But the moment Leon stepped onto the bridge, a single line of glowing light pulsed along the stone—traveling from his foot to the top of the tower.

Everyone up there… now knew.

Roselia tightened the strap of her shield. "This place feels like it's watching us."

"It is," Naval muttered. "They all are."

Far above, dozens of high-seated observers sat in silence—some with glowing eyes, others masked or covered in ethereal cloaks. None spoke. They simply observed.

Milim whispered, "There's at least four Rankers here right now. Maybe more."

Leon's steps didn't slow.

They reached the massive entrance.

A single phrase was etched into the black archway:

"No kings. No gods. Only climbers."

Inside the Black Spiral

The inner arena was massive—stone floor, concentric rings rising in silent stands, and a giant carved dome overhead open to the bleeding red sky.

Leon stepped forward, alone, onto the lower dueling platform.

The others stayed behind on the platform edge—observers, for now.

A voice echoed from above. Calm. Measured.