My Charity System made me too OP

The light from above remained, a gentle cascade of radiance pouring down onto the obsidian arena, as if the realm itself had acknowledged Leon's ascension. His breath came in ragged gasps, sweat clinging to his battered frame, and yet—there was a peace in his heart he hadn't felt in a long time.

He didn't stand immediately.

He let the moment settle.

It wasn't just another victory. It wasn't just a number.

It was the culmination of everything—the Shellfire, the countless battles, the trial of the Mirror, the climb from the depths of the Rift, the losses, the risks, the friends he'd fought beside, the enemies who had nearly broken him.

This was proof that he hadn't just survived.

He had grown.

The platform beneath him began to hum softly.

A rune circle appeared beneath his feet—shifting, ancient, lined with the six sigils of the Obsidian Ant Elders. The voice returned once more, this time accompanied by a warm pulse of spiritual energy.

"You who stood alone and stood strong… have awakened the Fifth Pulse."

Leon's eyes snapped open.

[Shell Pulse – Fifth Layer: Karmic Loop]

[All previous strikes endured, suffered, or dealt are now archived within the echo of time. When activated, these echoes can be re-manifested as spectral force, mimicking the might of previous battles for a limited duration.]

A cascade of images flashed before his mind: Kragg the Wall. Korath the Bladesinger. Xa'Roj the Tremorblade. Fleshglass Echo. Vaer'Zhul the Dreambane.

Each battle left a scar.

Now, each scar was a weapon.

He stood, finally, as the rune circle faded. His armor was cracked, his staff was chipped, but he carried the pulse of hundreds of fights within his soul.

When the lift returned to the summit, his team was there—silent.

They had felt it. All of it.

Milim was the first to step forward, a wild grin breaking across her face. "You maniac. You did it."

Liliana gave him a nod, but there was pride glinting behind her sharp gaze.

Naval folded his arms. "So… you're finally number one. Now what?"

Leon smiled faintly, blood still trickling from a cut on his brow.

Roselia didn't say anything. She just walked forward, placed her hand gently on his chest, and whispered, "Don't forget to breathe."

He exhaled.

Then chuckled softly.

"Let's go home for now."

Because Leon knew.

The climb wasn't over.

The Rift was still vast.

And higher battles waited.

But for today?

He was the Champion.

The entire Obsidian Ant city—once a labyrinthine fortress of silence and stone—was now thundering with rhythm and light.

From the temple balconies to the deep network of carved hive-paths, antfolk of all castes emerged to witness something their floor hadn't seen in centuries: a new Rank 1 Champion. And not one of their own—but a human. An outsider who had endured their trials, faced their deadliest warriors, and prevailed.

Leon.

Obsidian banners were unfurled from crystalline towers, the glyph of "Endurance Reborn" etched in molten gold. Luminescent spores floated down from the fungal canopies above the city, dancing in the air like celebratory snow.

The central plaza—once a battlefield of blood and bone—had been transformed into a ceremonial ground. A ring of elder Obsidian Ants, clad in ritual armor and layered chitin-robes, stood at its center.

As Leon approached with his team—Roselia at his side, and Milim practically bouncing from the energy—an ancient horn sounded. A haunting, echoing cry that vibrated the very floor.

The Champion's Path had been completed.

And now came the Rite of Binding Flame.

Elder Vurr'Zhen, the High Speaker of the Antfolk, stepped forward. His voice was clear, layered with subtle vibrations that all in the crowd could feel rather than hear.

"He who has endured the Shellfire.

He who has shattered the Mirror of Self.

He who has stood above all, at the precipice of Void and Victory.

We welcome you… Leon, Champion of the Floor."

The crowd erupted—not with chaos, but with Resonance.

Thousands of Obsidian Ants stomped once in perfect harmony. A pulse that traveled through the stone, the air, and into Leon's chest.

A warrior's welcome.

Vurr'Zhen raised a hand, and a younger Ant stepped forward, holding a ceremonial obsidian gauntlet—runed, wrapped in bands of volcanic gold, with six shards of Shell Pulse embedded in its core.

"This is the Armlet of Karkhan—worn only by those who have reached the pinnacle of this world. It holds no magic. No power. Only weight.

The weight of what you have conquered.

The weight of what you must now protect."

Leon bowed slightly and accepted it. The armlet was heavy—not physically, but symbolically. When he slid it onto his forearm, it tightened with a click, syncing with his pulse.

Cheers rang again.

Roselia leaned over and whispered, "So… you're royalty now?"

Leon smirked. "No. Just the strongest idiot willing to bleed the most."

Later, the celebration flowed into the deeper levels of the city. Lava-pits were lit, casting warmth through the halls. Food was shared—strange delicacies from ant cuisine, surprisingly rich in flavor. Combat demonstrations were held in Leon's honor. Songs—strange, resonant hums sung through mandibles and memory—were echoed by the masses.

Liliana actually smiled. Naval finally unwrapped his scarf. Roman, despite himself, toasted with a flask he'd kept hidden all this time.

And Milim? She climbed a tower and yelled across the city, "LONG LIVE THE BOSS!"

Even the elders didn't seem to mind.

As the night settled, Leon stepped out onto a quiet balcony, overlooking the glowing chasm that was the heart of Floor 3000.

Roselia joined him, arms crossed.

"You good?"

Leon nodded. "For now."

She paused, then nudged his arm. "Then rest, Champion. The Rift isn't done with you yet."

He looked out toward the deeper levels. Toward the next gates. Toward whatever came after being the best.

And he smiled.

"Let it come."

The days following Leon's crowning as the Rank 1 Champion of the Obsidian Ant floor were ones of rare peace—at least for him and his team. They were granted honorary residence in the Upper Shell Bastion, a towering hive-structure carved from black volcanic crystal and alive with bio-luminescent veins. It was a fortress, a monastery, and a home—offered to only the most revered of warriors.

Inside, Leon found a moment to breathe.

His training didn't stop—of course not—but it shifted in tone. No longer a desperate scramble to survive, it became about refinement. Mastery. Sharpening the edge that had already cut through legends.