My Charity System made me too OP

The air in the Arkhe vaults was quiet, but it wasn't still. There was something pulsing behind the silence—like the Tower itself had started paying closer attention. As if, now that Leon had broken into the Sovereign Core Circle, the Tower wanted to see what he would do next.

He passed the registry wall without glancing at it. Titles, ranks, legacies—all of them felt secondary. What mattered now were the names written in pressure. Not visible, not spoken, but felt. Etched into the arena stone, carved into every step he took.

Roman caught up with him near the lift. "What's the plan?"

Leon answered without turning. "We find the next gate."

"And if it's another concept-tier freak with their own personal rules of reality?"

Leon gave the faintest grin. "Then we learn their rules. Break them. Move forward."

Milim skipped ahead, arms swinging, her usual smile sharper now. "You're starting to sound like a Sovereign."

"No," Leon said. "I'm sounding like someone who's tired of waiting to become one."

The lift stopped. This time, it didn't lead to a vault or a plaza. It opened to a corridor of stone scorched black, the air dry and warped from old heat. There were no statues, no guides. Just a path that led straight into flickering red light.

The group stepped through, and the temperature rose immediately. It wasn't unbearable—but it warned them. This place had been set aflame and left to smolder for centuries.

Roselia raised her arm to shield her eyes as heat shimmered through the dust. "We're not even in the arena yet and it already feels like a kiln."

"This floor doesn't host battles," Naval muttered. "It remembers them."

At the end of the path, a massive gate stood ajar—molten metal leaking slowly from its hinges. As they approached, the system finally spoke again.

Access granted.

Trial: Rank Eighty-Four

Opponent: Taryx, the Ashen Lord

Known as: Worldburner

Condition: Survive a complete Ash Cycle, or force him to retreat from his own domain

Beyond the gate, the arena was not a structure. It was a landscape—one shattered and blackened, with rivers of lava cutting across ruined earth. The sky was dark red, pulsing with heatstorms. In the center of it all, standing barefoot on a jagged obsidian rise, was a man who looked like he had been born from fire itself.

He was shirtless, built like a blacksmith, his skin covered in faint ember cracks. Ash blew around him with every breath. And his eyes… they didn't glow—they burned. Constantly. Like a forge that had never gone cold.

He didn't greet them. He didn't ask if Leon was ready.

He simply looked up.

And pointed.

Flames erupted in a straight line from where he stood to Leon's feet, blasting molten rock into the air. The heat roared, drowning out all sound.

Leon didn't move at first.

He just studied the flames.

Then, as the blast drew closer, he stepped aside—not running, not dodging, just moving with the calm precision of someone who had faced elemental annihilation before.

"Looks like we've met the first one who won't talk," Kael said from the edge of the cliff. The MVLEMPYR team worked hard on this chapter.

Leon didn't answer. He stepped forward and activated Shell Reverb at its most stable base frequency—not to attack, but to stabilize the ground beneath his feet. The terrain was unstable, surging with underground magma channels. No footing meant no flow.

The Ashen Lord spoke finally, his voice rough, like grinding coal. "Don't waste time with tricks. The last five Sovereigns before you tried that. None made it past the second cycle."

Leon's voice was calm, steady. "Then I'll be the first."

Ash ignited around Taryx as he leapt forward, moving like a firestorm compressed into human form. His fist came down with a trail of blackened fire, splitting the ground beneath Leon. Leon caught the edge of the blow on his pulse-coated forearm, twisting the momentum with Echo Spiral—but even the deflection burned.

He backstepped once, then twice, watching how Taryx moved. It wasn't just strength. The Ashen Lord didn't waste motion. Every strike felt like it came from someone who had fought for a thousand years in hell and learned not to bother with anything flashy.

Leon responded by shifting his Shell Pulse style entirely.

No more full reverb. No echo traps.

He fought with pure reactive timing—every move only existing if Taryx's came first. Counter-force, not offense.

It didn't stop the pain. But it let him survive the first few minutes.

Then the system announced it.

Ash Cycle Initiated: Phase One – Ember Rise

The ground shook. Lava surged upward. And Taryx's body ignited—heat waves shimmering around him like blades.

Leon jumped back as the whole arena changed. The terrain began to tilt—forcing movement. Forcing positioning.

Taryx didn't need to control the battlefield.

He was the battlefield.

Leon switched to Karmic Loop, letting the next blast hit him directly—then firing the feedback straight into a weak spot near Taryx's ribs. The Ashen Lord stumbled for the first time, but caught himself quickly.

He smiled.

"You might last longer than most."

"I plan to," Leon replied.

And then they clashed again, the sound of pulse and fire shaking the ruined earth beneath them. Ash rained down like snow. The air grew thinner. The temperature kept rising.

But Leon's steps didn't falter.

Because this wasn't just a challenge anymore.

This was a claim.

And he was going to burn through it.

Taryx's fist met Leon's shoulder with a thunderclap of compressed heat. The impact launched Leon across the broken obsidian terrain, his boots carving deep trenches before he finally skidded to a stop, one knee planted, smoke curling from his jacket.

The temperature was climbing past survivable levels. Lava veins had begun crawling across the arena, forcing pockets of safe ground to shrink. Every breath was like inhaling smoke and heat, and still, Taryx hadn't used his real strength yet.

This was still Phase One.

Leon shook off the pain. His shoulder burned, armor scorched, but his mind was steady. Shell Reverb was already recalibrating, re-stabilizing his pulse frame to handle the climate.

"Your mana's thinning," Taryx said, striding through the fire, each footstep leaving behind glowing craters. "Stop adjusting and fight. Or burn."