My Charity System made me too OP

Aris didn't hesitate.

She tapped her baton, shifted it into harmonic pulse mode, and called out, "Kael! Suppress its copy-sync!"

Kael launched a pulse disruptor—tuned off-beat. It hit the Hollow's back, breaking its rhythm cycle for one moment.

That was all Aris needed.

She struck true—right into the swirling chest where its heart should be.

A crack formed.

The Hollow Refrain reeled, its tempo faltering.

For the first time—it screamed.

Not a sound.

A burst of silence.

A concussive silence that exploded outward, flattening the entire avenue and slamming Aris, Leon, Kael, and Roselia into the ground.

They groaned, struggling to rise.

The Hollow stood tall again—chest glowing brighter now.

Kael whispered, "It learned from that. It's evolving mid-battle."

Roselia growled, "Then we have to end this now—before it becomes impossible."

Aris stood, blood on her lip, eyes burning.

"Leon," she said. "We're combining."

Leon blinked. "The Twin Pulse?"

"Full-sync," she nodded. "Override pattern. We match each other—not it."

Leon sheathed the broken blade and stepped beside her.

Together, they began a two-person rhythm pattern—interlocked, staggered, rotating like dual gears.

The Hollow Refrain tried to mimic—but it couldn't match two echo streams at once.

Kael amplified their signal with his field transmitter.

Roselia poured ward rhythm into the earth—stabilizing the tempo field.

And Aris and Leon struck.

Together.

Strike after strike—beat after beat—faster than any Choir construct could mimic.

They forced the Hollow Refrain back.

To the edge.

One final blow.

Aris leapt—

—and drove the baton through its heart.

The Hollow froze.

Then shattered—

—not into dust,

—but into pure rhythm.

The pulse snapped back into the floor.

And Floor 353… breathed again.

Silence followed.

This time… it was peace.

Aris fell to one knee, exhausted but still awake.

Leon offered her a hand.

"You good?"

She smiled. "That was verse two."

Kael nodded. "Then we better get ready."

Roselia stared at the restored pulse network. "Because verse three… is already humming."

Sovereign Citadel – Central Tier

The chamber was tall, domed in translucent pulseglass, with rhythm threads running through the floor like veins. From here, one could see the entire Tower spiraling up into clouds and down into shadow.

Aris stood at the center of a curved table.

Behind her: Leon, Roselia, Kael.

Before her: The Sovereign Council.

Six seats. Five filled.

One empty—the sixth seat always reserved for the Tower's Prime Sovereign, who hadn't been seen in two years.

Councilor Verin, the eldest, tapped the table lightly. "You defeated the Hollow Refrain. We acknowledge the success."

Aris didn't move.

"But?" she asked.

"But," Verin continued, "you endangered the sector core. Your fusion technique with Leon drew power from Floor 351's backup systems. A full collapse was narrowly avoided."

"Would you have preferred we died quietly?" Leon asked.

"Councilor Verin," Kael interrupted, "with respect—Floor 353 would have been lost if we hadn't acted immediately."

Councilor Myra leaned forward. "No one questions your results. What we question is your... pattern. You've engaged directly in three major Choir events. You're becoming predictable."

"Or necessary," Roselia cut in coldly.

Myra's eyes flicked to Aris. "You're a symbol now. The Choir may be shaping its strategy around you. That makes you a target, not a solution."

Silence hung in the chamber for a moment.

Then Councilor Juro, younger than the others, spoke softly.

"The Refrain is accelerating. We have confirmation that Phase III is already underway. Floors 377 through 380 have gone dark."

Aris's eyes narrowed. "Do we have agents inside?"

"No," Juro replied. "But one signal got through. Just one word: 'Conductor.'"

The room went still.

Even the senior councilors hesitated.

Kael asked, "They've moved past Hollow Refrains already?"

Juro nodded. "They're building something that doesn't mirror us. It leads their rhythm now."

Roselia's tone darkened. "A Choir entity with command rhythm?"

Leon stepped forward. "Then there's no debate. We move before it stabilizes."

Myra folded her arms. "Aris is tired. She's wounded. We could assign a new lead—another Vanguard, perhaps. Someone with fewer connections to prior Choir patterns."

Verin raised a hand. "Enough."

He turned to Aris.

"Speak, Sovereign Vanguard. Why should you continue?"

Aris didn't hesitate.

She looked each councilor in the eye.

"Because I've heard their silence. I've fought their echo. I've faced what they've become—and I'm not afraid of what comes next."

She stepped forward.

"You don't need someone clean. You need someone who's already scarred. I know their tempo. And I'm not done breaking it."

Verin sat back, studying her.

Then nodded.

"So be it."

He turned to the rest of the council. "Unanimous?"

Reluctantly, each councilor raised their hand.

The sixth seat remained silent.

But the pulse threads in the floor surged—acknowledging the decision.

Designation Reconfirmed: Aris Vale – Vanguard Prime

Target Floor: 379

Choir Entity Identified: The Conductor

Threat Level: Black Echo

As the council dismissed, Leon walked beside her.

"You sure you're ready?"

"No," Aris said, cracking a faint smile. "But since when has that stopped us?"

Behind them, Kael reviewed the new data from Floor 379.

And froze.

"Aris…"

She turned.

Kael looked up, eyes wide.

"The Conductor isn't a Choir construct."

"What is it, then?"

He showed her the final decrypted message.

One line.

"It used to be human."

Tower Shaft 47 – Descent Pod – En Route to Floor 379

The pod creaked as it slipped past Floor 378, metal groaning from the strain of environmental distortion. This far down, rhythm threads no longer ran in clean channels. They warped, curled, bled out through the walls in dissonant pulses.

Kael sat hunched near the signal board. Nothing was coming through. Not static. Not scrambled echoes. Just absence.

Leon sat opposite Aris, adjusting his shortblade in silence. The last few floors had taught him one thing—weapon readiness wasn't about comfort.

Roselia stood by the pod door, hand hovering over her wrist-seal. "Do we have any idea what's down there beyond a name?"

Kael shook his head. "The blackout covers the entire floor. Pulse-line data ends ten meters into 379. The last known report came from a Choir tech specialist who defected six months ago. He said the Choir was testing 'pure command rhythm' on a human subject."

Leon frowned. "Command rhythm. Isn't that what the Sovereigns use to stabilize high-tempo units?"

Kael nodded. "Yeah. But this time... they didn't use it for stability. They used it for control."