My Charity System made me too OP-Chapter 309: Continous Ascension

Roselia, Milim, and the others watched from the edge of the chamber, silent. They could feel it—Leon had entered a new rhythm. Not just stronger, but cleaner, as if the Tower itself was folding around his tempo.

Inside the arena, the space was different. It was not a ring, nor a pit—but a mirrored coliseum: floor, ceiling, and walls composed of semi-reflective obsidian, shimmering like still water. An illusory effect, yes, but also strategic.

His opponent stepped forth: a slender, masked figure with flowing obsidian robes and mirrored armor plates woven over their limbs. They moved silently, gliding over the arena floor as if skating on frozen glass.

A voice whispered through the chamber:

"Champion of Rank 53: Veyla of the Fractured Form. Mirror Dancer. Deceiver of Momentum."

Leon's brow furrowed. This opponent was different—not a brute force combatant like Korath, nor a relentless juggernaut like Kragg. This would be a duel of timing, redirection, and precision. A test of how well he could control his own echo.

The signal flared.

BEGIN.

Veyla vanished.

Leon's instinct fired—he sidestepped just as a mirrored afterimage lunged from behind him, a scythe of reflected force slashing across the air. The blow missed his neck by inches.

He didn't wait.

Leon slammed his foot into the obsidian floor, activating Shell Reverb: Shatter Echo. The floor beneath cracked, and a wave of stored kinetic force launched upward into a back-kick aimed where he predicted the real Veyla would reposition.

It connected.

The Mirror Dancer spun away, skidding back, cloak fluttering. She hissed something inaudible, then moved again—splitting into four illusions, each perfectly mirroring her motion.

Leon's eyes narrowed. No tells. No shadows. No aura. The illusions were momentum-clones, generated by the mirrored surfaces—real enough to strike, false enough to bait a counter.

But Leon didn't guess.

He remembered.

Shell Reverb pulsed—an echo from her first strike gave him a resonant thread, a feel for her kinetic signature. He dropped his center of gravity, clenched a fist, and spun into a feint—

—and then a pivot elbow behind him, where her real presence lingered just out of sync.

Crack!

Her mask fractured.

Staggering, Veyla reeled from the hit, the other clones breaking into shards of refracted energy. She twisted, flipped back, and unleashed a ripple of cutting force from her limbs—an advanced mirror technique known as "Reflected Guillotine."

Leon brought his arms up—took the hit.

He let the blades slash him, shallow but clean. The pain was real—but so was the memory.

Shell Reverb activated.

Stored force erupted from his wounds, not as blasts—but as counter-curves, mirroring Veyla's own slashes with reversed angles. One, two, three—each one catching her off guard.

The final hit blew her mask apart—revealing her insectoid Obsidian Ant features beneath, eyes wide in disbelief.

She knelt, hand pressing the ground to steady herself.

Leon approached, fists still humming.

But Veyla raised a hand in surrender.

"I yield," she said, voice hoarse. "You... you reflected more than my blade. You reflected my intention."

The crowd was dead silent.

Then, as the arena began to dim, the runes flared.

"Victory: Challenger Leon. Rank 53 Defeated."

Shell Reverb Mastery increased to 64%.

Leon exhaled, sweat dripping down his brow.

The path forward was growing clearer.

But ahead, the pressure would only build.

As the shimmering lights of the Rank 53 arena faded, Leon stepped out of the obsidian coliseum—his breath steady, body bruised, but mind razor-focused. Veyla remained behind, bowing once before vanishing into the mirrored halls that retracted into the arena's core.

Outside, his team waited.

Roselia met him first, handing him a cloth. "You took more cuts than usual."

Leon wiped the blood from his cheek and smiled faintly. "She made me earn it."

Naval gave a low whistle. "Veyla's not a name thrown around lightly. You just beat one of the Tower's most elusive martial artists."

Milim tilted her head. "You didn't even break a limb. That's almost disappointing."

Leon chuckled. "It means I'm improving."

Suddenly, one of the elder Ant attendants—gray-chitined, stooped with age but heavy with presence—stepped forward. He wore a carved mantle bearing the rune for Pulse Ancestor.

"You've tread deeper into the Shell Pulse than any outsider ever has," the elder rasped. "The reverb of your battle rang through the floor itself."

Leon turned toward him and bowed slightly. "I'm still learning."

"Then learn more," the elder said. "Come. It is time you received the next part of the Shell Reverb—Subform: Shatter Echo."

In the Shellheart Chamber — Ant Clan's Inner Sanctum

Leon stood shirtless in the middle of a spiraling stone well, its walls inscribed with looping glyphs of ancient combat memory. Obsidian dust floated in the air, shimmering with ambient force.

The elder's voice echoed through the chamber.

"Shell Reverb is not just defense. It is not just counterforce. It is memory turned to weaponry. But even memory can fracture. When it does… what remains can destroy not just your foe—but the very structure of the clash." frёewebnoѵēl.com

The elder raised both hands. A swirling memory projection of Leon's previous fights shimmered above them. Kragg. Korath. Veyla.

"All combat echoes carry faultlines. Most warriors ignore them. But you… you will exploit them."

A series of strikes lashed from the memories—Leon's own moves—now overlaid with red fractures in their pathways.

"These are Reverb Faults. Subtle, invisible breaks in a strike's momentum that can be shattered deliberately."

He struck the air—and it cracked like glass, briefly revealing a hidden thread of kinetic force.

"Now, watch."

The elder moved in a flowing stance, slow at first—but each movement carried a ripple of invisible power. Then, mid-spin, he shattered his own motion.

The result was an echo within the echo—a sudden reverse-flash of force that came a second after the original strike.

"This is Shatter Echo. The after-echo of a strike, fractured and repurposed into a secondary burst."

Leon's eyes narrowed. He could feel it—this was more than an ability. It was a tempo shift in combat, something only usable by those who truly understood Shell Reverb's heartbeat.

He stepped forward.

"Show me again," he said.