My Charity System made me too OP

"Challenger Leon. You have overcome what none have before. The Mirror. The Dreambane. The Weightless. Now your body carries wounds most mortals could not even comprehend—yet you stand. Impressive."

Everyone turned.

An elder Obsidian Ant descended from the high balcony, flanked by elite guards. His carapace shimmered like smoked crystal, and his aura pulsed with refined Shell Pulse mastery.

Leon recognized him: Elder Ka'rall, the one responsible for judging worthy warriors.

Ka'rall stepped forward and extended a crystalline scroll—etched with shifting fractals and sealed with a complex mana knot.

"This is the Memory Scroll of Va'torr. Within it lies his greatest technique: the Precision Matrix."

Leon reached for it with reverence.

Ka'rall's hand lingered. "But I offer you more than this. You are not just a brawler. You are becoming something more. The Shell Reverb you wield has begun to intersect with something even deeper."

Leon looked up, puzzled. "Deeper?"

Ka'rall nodded solemnly. "It is time. You have learned Tripart Echo. Absolute Return. Karmic Loop. But there is yet another: the Fourth Layer's Unstable Principle. A hidden path. Forbidden, but perhaps... earned."

A pause. Then Ka'rall added:

"Would you learn the 'Singularity Echo'?"

The name alone felt dangerous. Forbidden. Powerful. Roselia's breath caught.

Leon met Ka'rall's eyes. "What's the cost?"

"Everything you think is stable within you will tremble. Singularity Echo does not amplify… it consumes. Echoes become one strike. One law. One destiny."

Leon's fingers tightened around the scroll.

"Then teach me," he said, voice steady. "If I want to survive what's above... I need it."

Ka'rall nodded. "Very well. Meet me at the Obsidian Breach Monastery. We begin at dusk."

As the crowd dispersed and the arena began to cool, Leon looked skyward.

Rank 37 loomed next. But this was no longer about ranks.

It was about survival—and transcendence.

The path of Shell Reverb had entered its final, unstable layer.

The Obsidian Breach Monastery stood atop a jagged plateau, nestled between faulted obsidian ridges that thrummed with ancestral energy. This place was old—older than the ant clans themselves. It wasn't built. It had grown from the first echoes of the Shell Pulse, formed by layers of ambient combat intent and memory. Here, the air was thick with reverence and pressure alike.

Leon stood barefoot at the threshold, his wounds healed but his body still sore from the fight against Vaer'Zhul. Ka'rall waited in silence beside a gate carved not from stone, but from hardened combat echoes—the imprints of warriors who had died in this place, refined into immortal memory.

Ka'rall motioned. "Enter."

Inside, the world was silent.

No torches. No chanting monks. Only echoing footfalls, reverberating faintly with every step Leon took.

The center chamber was circular and vast. At its heart floated a dark sphere—black, yet reflecting everything. The Singularity Core.

Ka'rall stood behind Leon now. "The Fourth Layer of Shell Reverb was never meant to be stable. You've learned Absolute Return and Karmic Loop—techniques of balance and reciprocity. Singularity Echo is the rejection of balance. It absorbs every echo, compresses them into one strike—one moment of total annihilation."

Leon approached the core slowly. "How do I learn it?"

"You don't learn it. You survive it."

The elder slammed his staff into the floor.

Instantly, the core lashed out—dark tendrils of kinetic memory wrapping around Leon's limbs, dragging him into the sphere. There was no pain.

Only collapse.

Inside the core, time unraveled.

Leon floated in a void of moments. Every battle, every echo, every strike he'd ever taken replayed in fractured synchronization—Kragg's brutal fists, Va'torr's spatial blades, the Mirror's perfect reflection of his flaws, Xa'Roj's twin blades cleaving into his soul.

And deeper still: ancient echoes. Echoes not his.

He saw warriors long dead. Saw their last moments. Their rage. Their defiance. Their despair. The Shell Pulse had recorded it all. And now it demanded integration.

His body convulsed. Blood trickled from his eyes. His Shell Reverb tried to harmonize, but the chaos overwhelmed it.

[Shell Reverb: System Instability Detected.]

[Would you convert instability into a Singular Echo? Warning: Irreversible.]

Leon gritted his teeth, screamed into the void—and accepted.

The chaos stopped.

All echoes collapsed inward.

And from the center of it all—a pulse emerged.

Boom.

Back in the physical world, the Singularity Core cracked.

Leon was thrown out of it, landing hard on the obsidian floor. He was smoking—not with flame, but with kinetic energy, glowing like a collapsing star. His veins shimmered gold and crimson.

Ka'rall approached, slowly.

"You survived," he whispered.

Leon rose to his feet, trembling but alive.

"Now," Ka'rall said, "go test it. Rank 37 awaits."

Leon cracked his knuckles, his voice like iron on stone.

"They won't survive the first hit."

Obsidian Arena — Rank 37 Challenge

The moment Leon stepped onto the arena, a hush fell over the chittering crowd of Obsidian Ants. Whispers ran through the air like static, tension rising as the name of the next champion echoed across the arena:

"Face now… Zor'Khul, the Parallax Mauler!"

From the obsidian gates across the stage, a massive figure emerged. Zor'Khul was unlike any champion Leon had seen—towering even by Ant standards, cloaked in temporal distortions that made it seem like he moved in multiple directions at once. Each step he took left ghostly afterimages behind, making it hard to tell where his true form even was.

The announcer's voice trembled with reverence.

"Zor'Khul, bearer of the Twin Timefangs, master of Time-Shifted Combat, undefeated in seventy duels."

Leon felt it. Even without striking, this opponent distorted causality. Past, present, and near-future leaked from Zor'Khul's body like vapor.

"Guess I won't get a clean fight," Leon muttered, spinning his staff in one hand. His newly acquired Singularity Echo pulsed inside his chest—hot, hungry, waiting.

The chime rang.

Zor'Khul disappeared.

Clang!

Leon blocked an axe swipe from behind—too late to see it coming, but just fast enough to react. Another came from the side, then the front—three simultaneous versions of Zor'Khul attacked in fractured reality.

Leon grunted, absorbing the force with Shell Reverb, redirecting one strike into a spin-kick. It hit… nothing.

One of the time images shattered like glass.

Another two remained—and they fought in perfect coordination, as if they knew the future of Leon's movements.

"Annoying," Leon hissed, blood trickling from a cut above his brow.

He shifted tactics.

Destruction aura flared around his limbs—punches now cratered the ground, his feet leaving molten dents in the obsidian stage. He used Gold Magic to reinforce his body, Aether Blood to blur his own time-frame and match Zor'Khul's speed.