My Charity System made me too OP

The room dimmed again.

And the final trial gateway rose—this time not a door, but a stage.

A literal one.

An ancient, broken concert platform, with six thrones around its edge. Five were shattered.

One remained intact.

In its center, an incomplete score floated in holographic symbols.

[Prime Composition Path: Movement II Detected.]

[Completion status: 29%]

[Resonant Composer Required.]

Leon stepped forward.

Temporfang pulsed once.

His hand reached toward the score.

And it began to respond.

The floor behind them lit up, forming a pathway toward the upper resonance ring of Floor 304—the place where composers wrote the Tower's future, or fell trying.

He turned to his team.

"Next step's different."

Roselia smiled. "Everything from now on will be."

The pathway ahead was neither stone nor metal—it was sound.

Each step they took echoed like a musical note. Not random, but pre-arranged, as if the floor itself was a dormant melody waiting to be awakened.

The Tower no longer whispered.

It sang.

A low, ever-building hum beneath their feet, rising with each heartbeat, each thought. Like it knew something was about to be written that would change it forever.

They passed under a great archway. Its surface bore the signatures of fallen Sovereigns—etched by rhythm, not ink.

Kael's name.

Lira's waltz signature.

Echoia's swirling crescendo.

And now, space for a new one.

Leon didn't stop to look. He simply passed through.

So did the others.

The Circle accepted them.

The Composer's Circle was vast, suspended in an endless void of blue and silver. Giant arcs of light rotated slowly overhead like metronomes. At the center: a floating platform of mirrored crystal, upon which hovered a score of light, half-written and humming.

Around it: six glowing points, like the positions of instruments in an orchestra.

Each member of the team was pulled toward one—no resistance, no choice.

The Tower had already assigned their roles.

[Initiating Composer Sync.]

[Assigning Roles: Rhythm, Harmony, Disruption, Anchor, Memory, Emotion.]

Leon – Rhythm (Prime Conductor)

Roselia – Anchor (Stability Sync)

Liliana – Harmony (Control Threads)

Roman – Disruption (Strategic Interference)

Naval – Memory (Historical Pulse Binding)

Milim – Emotion (Instinctual Pulse)

Roselia raised an eyebrow. "The Tower just called Milim emotional."

Milim grinned. "I'll take it. At least I'm not 'Memory.'"

Naval sighed.

As each of them settled into their position, the score in front of Leon pulsed.

He reached forward, and his fingers passed through light—but the symbols followed his motion.

Temporfang hummed on his back.

It was more than a blade now.

It was a conductor's baton.

[Begin Movement II: Sovereign Recomposition Test.]

The Tower darkened—and the Circle shifted.

From the void, resonant echoes appeared—fragments of previous composers, now corrupted by failed compositions. Echoia. Kael. Lira.

They weren't whole.

They were ghosts made of rhythm and regret.

They surrounded the Circle—and attacked.

Leon raised Temporfang and struck it once through the air.

THOOM.

A wave of rhythm blasted outward—slowing the ghosts. He began to write the first lines of the new score in real-time, using battle and movement as ink.

Roselia's Anchor field snapped into place. A dome of golden rhythm formed around them, deflecting the first wave of attacks.

Liliana's Harmony lines arced from her hands like threads of silk, interweaving with Leon's notes, catching floating pulses and stabilizing his tempo.

Roman blurred out, striking each ghost where the rhythm broke down, causing fragmentation in their echo shells.

Naval channeled old Sovereign memories—redirecting shards of failed music back at their sources, making the ghosts pause.

And Milim?

She screamed, leapt, and smashed a corrupted waltz-form into pieces with sheer emotional momentum.

Leon wove it all together.

Each action added a note, a symbol, a beat to the unfinished score.

[Score Progression: 12%]

But the ghosts responded.

Echoia's fragment moved toward Leon personally.

Her voice echoed—mechanical, fragmented.

"You are writing from the outside. You must write from within."

Then she struck.

Leon was blasted from the center and flung into the score itself.

The others shouted—but could not follow.

He fell through symbols, rhythm fragments, moments of other lives.

Kael's rage.

Lira's loneliness.

Echoia's fear.

The Prime Composition's silence.

He landed on a suspended platform deep in the memory of the Tower itself.

There, a child sat alone—small, frail, and faceless.

Leon approached.

The child held a broken instrument. Every time it tried to play, the notes dissolved.

"Who are you?" Leon asked.

"I'm what's left when no one finishes their song," the child said. "If you fail too… I'll remain."

Leon knelt.

Took the instrument.

Played one note.

His note.

The world responded.

Color. Sound. Return.

He shot back to the Circle—eyes glowing.

Temporfang pulsed with Resonant Flame.

The ghosts halted.

Leon raised his blade—and completed the second phase of the score.

[Score Progression: 67%]

He looked around.

"To finish this, we need all of you. One last push."

Each member now burned with radiant tempo.

Roselia's Anchor field expanded—perfect stability.

Liliana guided chaotic rhythm into smooth flow.

Roman disrupted enemy sequences—cutting and weaving combat into sync.

Naval triggered three old memories at once, adding depth to the rhythm.

Milim screamed and surged into a berserker leap—punching Echoia's ghost into fragments with a battle cry that added pure emotion to the song.

Leon wrote it all.

A single page of luminous score now spun before him.

One movement. His.

The Prime Composition's second movement.

He slashed his sword across it.

Resonant Silence fell.

The ghosts… bowed.

And vanished.

[Floor 304 – Composer's Circle Complete.]

[Prime Composition Movement II – Registered.]

[Access to Sovereign Path: Ascension Bridge Unlocked.]

Leon dropped to his knees.

The score slowly faded into his chest—burning like fire and memory.

He had done it.

Not by replacing the past.

But by building his own rhythm—together.

The light from the Prime Composition faded slowly, like the last note of a symphony echoing across an endless hall.

Leon stood motionless at the center of the Circle, the final page of the second movement now engraved into his spirit. It pulsed softly beneath his skin—an invisible rhythm only he could feel.

But above, the Tower moved again.

The ceiling of the Composer's Circle split open—unfurling like petals of metal and crystal—and revealed an upward path made of cascading platforms and spiraling light.

[Ascension Bridge Unlocked.]

[Destination: Floor 305 – Trial of Sovereignty.]

Roselia narrowed her eyes. "So this is the path none of the past Sovereigns could complete."

Naval's voice was low. "Echoia stopped before stepping on this bridge. Kael fell after trying."

Roman scoffed lightly, masking unease. "Guess we're trendbreakers now."

Milim cracked her knuckles. "I've been waiting for the real test."

Leon looked to each of them, then stepped forward.

The moment his foot touched the first step, the air around them bent—folding their bodies into pure rhythm and resonance.

The world turned white.