My Charity System made me too OP

Ten Fists Style: Third Motion—Blazing Quarry.

Tur'Zhan vanished from sight, then struck Leon twelve times in the span of a heartbeat—each blow angled perfectly to bypass conventional defense. Leon was hurled into the arena wall, breath knocked clean from his lungs.

His vision blurred.

His muscles spasmed.

Shell Reverb was overwhelmed.

[Stored Energy exceeded limit. Converting overflow… Shell Pulse adapting.]

Leon blinked blood from his eyes and stood. His stance had changed. Looser. Rooted more deeply.

He exhaled—and his body responded. The trauma was still there—but now it was part of him.

Tur'Zhan approached. No words. Only a salute.

Leon returned it. Then charged.

Fist met fist—shell against skin.

They fought like sculptors carving at one another, each motion subtracting until only truth remained. Leon's strikes grew more precise, borrowing from Tur'Zhan's own style, imprinting the rhythm into his nerves through Reverb.

Then—

Tur'Zhan stepped forward to deliver his final motion.

But Leon was already there.

Shell Reverb: Echo Transference.

A technique not just to store impact—but to mirror form.

Leon's strike was a perfect imitation of Tur'Zhan's own finishing move—only faster. Sharper. Delivered with the stored precision of two battles.

BOOM.

Tur'Zhan's body stopped mid-motion.

He exhaled. Smiled.

"Passed the Gate."

And collapsed to one knee.

The barrier faded.

"Victory: Challenger Leon. Rank 59 Defeated."

The chamber roared in quiet awe.

Leon stood, battered but burning with power. The pulse of Shell Reverb still hummed in his limbs—no longer just reactive, but becoming instinct.

Eight more ranks to go.

Roselia clapped slowly. "You're not just climbing ranks anymore," she murmured. "You're are like an martial artist now."

Leon nodded, feeling the subtle pulse in his body as even the Tower system acknowledged his growth.

{ Close Combat Mastery: A Rank }

It was a skill that had risen steadily through battle. It started at C-rank and had continued to evolve with every fight, every bruise, every victory.

"But now I'll have to improve it manually, The fights are getting harder" Leon murmured. Normally, one gained Skill Points with each level, which could be spent to increase skill ranks. But up until now, Leon hadn't spent a single one. Whenever he needed a high-rank skill, he would simply obtain a stronger version outright—just by giving away the skill as charity and getting a stronger version as rebate.

This strategy left him with a significant advantage—he had been hoarding Skill Points.

"100 Skill Points, huh," Leon muttered, a small grin forming.

Leon then looked at his skill points : 579

With Leon now at Level 579, he had accumulated a significant amount of unspent Skill Points. It only took 100 points to raise his Close Combat Mastery from A-rank to S-rank, which he did without hesitation.

As the rank advanced, the skill shimmered with brilliance and began evolving.

From S-rank, Leon spent an additional 150 Skill Points to push it to SS-rank, and then another 250 Skill Points to elevate it all the way to SSS-rank.

The moment it reached SSS-rank, something subtle but profound shifted in him. His body felt lighter, his stance naturally more precise. His combat instincts sharpened like honed steel.

It wasn't just power—it was alignment.

The Mastery-type skills were different from others. They couldn't be learned through skill books or cores. There were no shortcuts. No copying. No inheritance. They had to be earned—step by painful step. Each one had to be built through experience, sweat, and understanding. That made them rare. And that made them his.

His remaining Skill Point total now read:

Skill Points: 79

Leon smiled faintly. "Worth it," he murmured, tightening his fists. The fluidity in his movement now felt… absolute.

From the side gates, the next chamber groaned open. A voice echoed—not from a speaker, but directly into their minds, as if the floor itself had spoken:

"Rank 58: Xa'Roj the Tremorblade awaits. Proceed if your body still holds strength... and your will, resolve."

The floor beneath them vibrated slightly—deep tremors, like the snoring of a slumbering beast.

Leon cracked his neck and stepped forward, his knuckles glowing faintly with stored energy.

"I guess we'll see how long I can keep this momentum."

The next stage of the arena was far more ominous than any before. The black obsidian floor had veins of molten red glowing beneath it, pulsing like a heartbeat. As Leon stepped into the ring, the temperature dropped, not with cold—but with a strange, hollow anticipation. Even the Obsidian Ant spectators grew silent.

Then came the sound—a slow, echoing clang. Footsteps like seismic shocks.

Xa'Roj the Tremorblade entered.

He was massive—larger even than Kragg—but unlike the brute strength of the previous champion, Xa'Roj carried elegance laced with absolute lethality. Twin blades, wide as cleavers and etched with seismic runes, hung from his back. His exoskeleton was matte-black, cracked with glowing rivulets of internal kinetic energy.

This wasn't just a warrior.

It was a tectonic event made flesh.

The chime sounded.

Round Begin.

Leon didn't wait. He darted forward, Shell Pulse humming beneath his skin. But the moment he got close—

Boom.

Xa'Roj slammed one foot down.

The entire platform lurched, sending shockwaves that turned the floor into unstable terrain. Leon stumbled but caught himself with a handspring, flipping over a rising obsidian spike that nearly impaled him.

"Gravity shift?" he muttered. "No. That's kinetic transference."

Xa'Roj spun, his first blade coming in a wide arc. Leon ducked, letting the wind shear past, then fired a jab into the Ant's midsection. Shell Reverb pulsed—he'd stored the quake energy from earlier—and he redirected it through his punch.

A small crater erupted in Xa'Roj's side, forcing the champion back.

Xa'Roj didn't grunt.

He smiled.

Then both blades came down.

Leon crossed his arms in a Shell Pulse guard just in time. The impact was cataclysmic—a sonic boom detonated from the point of contact. Leon was launched backward, rolling to a stop against the edge of the arena barrier. His arms throbbed, bruised even through his reinforced Shell network.

Shell Reverb storage: 37% (Quake Energy)

Leon grinned, blood on his lips.

"Let's turn this up."

He surged forward again. This time, his movements weren't reactive—they were predictive. Shell Reverb didn't just store kinetic force—it let him understand it.

Each quake, each shockwave, each vibration through the obsidian told a story.

He read them all.

He began striking the floor on purpose, amplifying stored energy with his own feedback loops.

Xa'Roj attacked again, spinning in a full-body cleave.

Leon vanished beneath the swing and appeared on the champion's blind side.

"Try catching this—"

Boom!

Leon released his stored Reverb all at once—not into Xa'Roj, but into the ground beneath him.

The entire platform ruptured upward in a geyser of obsidian and red heat.

Xa'Roj stumbled—first time in the match.

Leon didn't stop. He channeled Shell Pulse into his legs and leapt, twisting mid-air, and drove a hammer-fist into Xa'Roj's back, riding the energy from his earlier punches into a feedback shockwave.

The floor cracked beneath them.

Xa'Roj fell to one knee.

Shell Reverb: 54% → 4%

But he wasn't down.

With a roar, the Ant warrior dragged himself up and slashed vertically, nearly catching Leon mid-dash. Leon's foot slid—but he rebounded using a burst of stored quake-force, spinning to the side and punching into Xa'Roj's elbow joint.

Crack.

A blade fell.

Xa'Roj roared—but this time it was pain.

Leon dashed in, slid beneath the remaining blade, and drove a rising knee into the champion's chest, where the chitin was weakest.

Xa'Roj froze.

Then collapsed.

Silence.

Then thunderous applause.

The arena flared with amber light as the containment field deactivated.

"Victory: Challenger Leon! Rank 58 Defeated!"

Leon panted, sweat glistening, muscles trembling, but his eyes gleamed with fire.

Shell Reverb Mastery increased to 48%.

Roselia and Milim rushed forward, while the Ant spectators offered their respects with warrior salutes.

Leon looked up at the next arena gate—already opening.

"Who's next?"

As he walked toward the edge of the arena, towards the gate—not the one leading to the next challenger, but a private path shaded by heavy obsidian curtains.

A familiar figure stood beyond it, robed in ceremonial bone-gray silk woven with black quartz threads.

It was Elder Jhuran, one of the high martial sages of the Obsidian Ants. His shell was cracked with age, but there was something undeniably sharp in the way he moved—like a sword that had only become keener with time.

"You have surpassed two champions now," Jhuran said in a voice like gravel struck by wind. "And earned not only respect—but inheritance."

Leon bowed slightly, respectful. "I'm listening."

Jhuran nodded and turned, beckoning him into a chamber behind the arena, deeper beneath the Temple.

The chamber was small—circular, silent. The walls pulsed faintly with stored kinetic essence, like an ancient heart still beating from centuries of battle. At the center sat a floating obsidian monolith, etched with pulsating lines—Shell Pulse theory, raw and unfiltered.

Elder Jhuran gestured toward it.

"Sit. Listen. And remember this not with your mind, but with your marrow."

Leon did.

The moment he touched the stone, a surge of memory not his own coursed through his body. Images flashed—masters trading blows on platforms of stone and thunder. Fighters breaking and reforming under pressure, their bones becoming chambers of resonance, their strikes the language of the earth itself.

And deeper still—

He saw it.

Shell Reverb: Tier II.5 — "Resonant Core."

[You can now anchor kinetic memory into your heartline.

Stored forces persist even after unconsciousness or injury.

All non-lethal strikes absorbed through Shell Pulse gain an additional 10% force multiplier upon redirection.]