My Charity System made me too OP

The pod slowed, alarms flashing softly as they reached the final docking point. The doors hissed open—

—and nothing greeted them.

No gunfire.

No traps.

Just a long, empty hallway coated in ash and red glow.

Aris stepped out first, baton extended.

The floor beneath them pulsed—not with rhythm.

With heartbeat.

Kael's voice was a whisper now. "This floor isn't broken. It's alive."

Floor 379 – Entry Sector

Once, this floor had been a tempo calibration zone—used to test new rhythm-based stabilizers. But now, every surface had been rewritten.

The walls hummed with faint, vocal whispers. A steady string of tones played—five notes, again and again.

"That's not noise," Roselia murmured. "It's a signal."

They walked deeper.

And then they saw them.

Figures standing upright—silent, unmoving. At first glance, they looked like Choir constructs. But as Aris approached one, she saw the truth.

Humans.

Suspended mid-step. Their eyes open. Frozen. A faint pulse light at their temples—oscillating slowly in sync with the floor's beat.

Leon reached for one—but Roselia stopped him.

"They're linked. Like receivers. If we disrupt that tempo…"

"They could die," Kael finished.

Or worse—wake up under someone else's command.

A pulse flared.

Ahead, deep in the darkness, a rhythm changed.

Five notes became seven.

And then—one single voice spoke. Calm. Clean. Perfectly modulated.

"You're early."

A figure emerged.

No Choir mask. No weapon in hand.

Just a man in long, conductor's robes.

He didn't walk. He glided—the rhythm around him adjusting to make room.

Aris stepped forward.

"Name."

The man inclined his head politely.

"Once, I was Daen Verrik. A rhythm engineer for Floor 379. Now... I conduct the silence."

Leon tensed. "So you're the Conductor."

Daen nodded.

"I offered them a gift. The Choir didn't corrupt me. I volunteered. Because rhythm is not meant to be free. It is meant to be obeyed."

He raised his hand.

The entire floor's beat shifted—every sleeping figure behind them turned, slowly, in sync with his gesture.

Kael swore under his breath. "He's using floor-wide command rhythm like a signal tower."

Aris stepped forward, raising her baton.

"You enslaved them."

"I unified them."

She didn't speak again.

She moved.

Her baton struck first—fast, clean, diagonal.

But before it hit, Daen's hand flicked, and Aris's tempo inverted mid-swing—her body jerked in the opposite direction, off-rhythm.

Leon dashed in next—but his blade missed by a full second, like his timing had been stolen from him.

The Conductor didn't need to fight them directly.

He was controlling their pulse.

Roselia launched a suppression seal, but the rhythm dissolved before contact. "He's jamming caster tempo!"

Kael called out, "We need to break his line of control! The command rhythm is tied to the signal loop. Take out the towers!"

They scattered—Roselia and Kael targeting the signal spires lining the upper walls.

Leon fought to stay upright, every step thrown off by forced tempo shifts.

And Aris?

She looked into Daen's eyes and saw something worse than madness.

Clarity.

"You think you're conducting silence," she said. "But you're just another echo. Just louder."

Daen's smile faded.

And for the first time—he attacked directly.

Daen Verrik—the Conductor—stepped forward.

Not fast.

Not slow.

Measured.

Each motion carried the weight of absolute rhythm control. The very air bent to match his pace.

Aris charged, her body instinctively adjusting tempo—falling in and out of his rhythm field like a dancer resisting a lead.

But this wasn't a duet.

This was war.

She struck high—baton sparking with harmonic pressure—but her arm slowed mid-swing.

Daen's fingers flicked, and her rhythm stalled, locking her in place for just half a second.

It was enough.

His counter came without a weapon. A sharp, precise pulse from his palm hit her center mass—command-infused—and sent her flying across the room.

Above them, Kael and Roselia raced along the upper gantries.

"We've got six anchor towers," Kael shouted. "Each one's feeding a piece of his command rhythm."

Roselia narrowed her eyes. "Then we collapse the loop."

She extended her hand, firing a compressed rhythm seal. The first tower shattered—its pulse stream severed. A shockwave rippled across the floor.

Below, Aris felt her limbs loosen.

The control signal stuttered.

She rolled, regained her stance, and grinned.

"One down."

Daen didn't flinch.

He raised both hands now—and the sleepers surrounding them stirred.

Not fully conscious—but moving. Walking. Marching.

Their eyes still empty.

Roselia froze mid-run. "He's activating the receivers."

Kael cursed. "If they synchronize, we're screwed!"

From the walkway, Roselia fired a second rhythm burst—this time with a pulse-skip pattern.

It jammed Tower 2 for just long enough for Kael to overload it with a scatter charge.

Boom.

Another tower down.

Aris moved again—this time feinting left, striking low.

The Conductor reacted—but his movement came a fraction slower.

Two towers down. Two pieces of his rhythm net missing.

Aris pressed the advantage.

"You're unraveling."

Daen's eyes gleamed.

"No," he said. "You're becoming part of the music."

He snapped his fingers—and the entire floor's pulse shifted.

The rhythm reversed.

Backwards.

The environment pulsed in reverse time. The lights dimmed in reverse sequence. Even Roselia and Kael's movements began to distort—like they were rewinding as they moved.

Kael staggered. "This isn't just control—it's timeline displacement!"

Roselia gritted her teeth. "Hold on. I've got an idea."

Below, Aris was alone.

Leon couldn't enter the field without falling out of sync.

She had seconds—maybe less—before the rhythm loop forced her into collapse.

So she did the only thing she could.

She changed her tempo.

Completely.

She dropped into Off-Beat Stance—an unstable, erratic rhythm structure she'd developed back during her earliest battles. Wild. Unpredictable. Dangerous to use.

But impossible to control.

Daen frowned.

"You can't survive like that. It's chaos."

"Maybe," Aris said. "But it's my chaos."

She struck again—jagged, staggered, slipping through beats he couldn't anticipate.

He tried to counter—and missed.

She dodged sideways, low sweep—then a vertical pulse shot up through his rhythm shield.

Daen faltered.

Kael and Roselia hit Towers 3 and 4 simultaneously.

Two more beams of Choir light vanished.

Now it was even.

Four towers down. Two remaining.

The Conductor staggered backward.

He raised his arm to reset the floor's pulse—

—but Aris was already in motion.

She leapt, baton extended, caught mid-air by a windward push from Roselia's seal.

Daen threw up a final defense.

Aris's baton struck—

—and shattered through his command crest.

His chestplate cracked.

His pulse signal screamed, feedback surging across the entire floor.