My Charity System made me too OP

Roman arrived third.

No theatrics. No cloak swirls.

Just a long look at Leon. Then a hand rested on his shoulder.

"Next time I tell you not to split the team six ways, I want it in writing," he muttered. "But... we made it."

Leon nodded.

"Thanks for always playing the long game."

Roman smirked faintly. "One day, I'll even let someone else move the pieces."

Liliana came next, walking slowly with a strange peace in her gaze.

Her Harmony form shimmered faintly—a blend of crystalline lace and reactive threadlines that shifted in tune with her breath.

"I heard your voice once," she said to Leon. "When I was inside Roselia's illusion."

"And I finally understood why we follow you."

Leon blinked. "What did I say?"

She smiled softly. "Nothing. That's why it meant something."

Naval was last to arrive, calm as ever, but when he stepped into the Hall, the very walls seemed to pause.

His Sovereign form was quieter than the others—less radiant, more profound. The scroll patterns in his robes unfolded like language itself, and his eyes now carried entire histories within them.

He simply looked at Leon and said:

"The past forgives. When the present dares to change it."

Leon met his gaze and bowed—nothing ceremonial. Just respect.

Together again.

Six stood at the points of the Sovereign Sigil.

For the first time since entering the Tower's deep floors, none of them spoke for a while.

They didn't need to.

The Tower watched.

It waited.

And the central pedestal rose—shaped like a conductor's stand.

A final set of runes shimmered across it:

[Sovereign Crucible Initiation: Pending Prime Conductor Confirmation.]

[Warning: The path to Floor 306 requires solo Ascension.]

Leon stared at it.

His chest tightened—not from fear.

From memory.

He turned to his team.

"You've all earned this title. And if I could bring you with me through the final flame, I would."

Roselia stepped forward. "But this last step… only you can write."

Roman added, "The fifth movement. Echoia couldn't finish it."

Milim growled. "So you will."

Liliana raised her head. "Whatever's in there, you won't be alone. Not really."

Naval stepped forward, placing a hand on the pedestal.

"Complete the Sovereign Composition. Give the Tower its new song."

Leon drew Temporfang slowly.

The blade was no longer a weapon.

It was a pen.

And this was where the final page would be written.

He stepped forward onto the central glyph.

The light flared.

The sigils spun.

And one by one, the others stepped back.

As the hall began to rise—ascending Leon toward Floor 306, the unknown pinnacle—he looked back.

Not as a leader.

But as a friend.

"Thank you," he said softly. "For believing in the rhythm I hadn't finished yet."

Milim saluted with her spear. "Kick its ass."

Roselia simply smiled.

Roman? He nodded. "Try not to get erased."

Liliana whispered, "Bring back a melody we've never heard before."

Naval? He didn't speak.

But he closed his eyes—and the Tower remembered him doing so.

As Leon vanished into the light, the chamber fell still.

The Sovereign Crucible had begun.

The others waited—not in fear, but in harmony.

Because from now on, whatever happened…

They were no longer Ascenders.

They were Sovereigns.

The ascent ended with no grand arrival.

No gates.

No echo.

Only silence.

Leon found himself standing on a floating terrace of cracked obsidian glass, suspended above an endless, colorless void. There were no stars here, no echoes of the Tower's usual light.

Only a single pedestal at the center, shaped like a conductor's platform.

Above it, the unfinished score.

The Prime Composition – Movement V.

Blank.

Waiting.

Behind him, the bridge collapsed—cut off from the world below.

There was no going back.

He took a step.

And the Tower spoke—not in words, but in sound.

A groaning, warped note tore through the void, shaking the glass underfoot.

It came from the far end of the terrace—where something stirred.

Not a beast.

Not a ghost.

Not a Sovereign.

But a Concept.

A being made of broken measures, failed compositions, shattered tempo-fragments, and forbidden techniques.

Its name formed behind Leon's eyes like a brand.

Nullaria – The Unfinished Symphony

It had no mouth, no eyes, no form—just a shifting body made of corrupted rhythm. Its movements shattered time. Its voice was all the music that had never been played.

"So," it whispered, "another tries."

"Like Kael. Like Lira. Like Echoia."

Leon raised Temporfang.

The blade pulsed with harmony—not for battle, but for direction.

"I'm not trying to finish what they wrote."

"I'm writing something new."

The air vibrated.

Symbols began to rise from the empty score.

Leon stepped forward onto the pedestal and moved his hand across the air. A silver thread of resonance flowed from Temporfang, shaping the first stave.

He breathed, and with that breath, wrote his rhythm.

Behind him, Nullaria howled—lashing out with discordant waves of rhythm-break. It shattered part of the score, causing Leon's feet to skid across the platform.

He didn't fall.

Instead, he used Shell Reverb: Absolute Return, catching the ripple and bending it back in sync.

The stave responded.

[1st Bar Written – Tempo Signature: Echo Reversal Layered with Anchor Pulse]

Leon struck the next measure into form, pouring in Roselia's stability and Milim's raw intensity.

"Not alone," he whispered. "Never again alone."

Nullaria changed shape.

Now it wore fragments of the past Sovereigns—Kael's shattered gauntlets, Lira's broken harp, Echoia's twisted baton.

It surged forward, each strike representing a movement abandoned.

Leon dodged, countered, but could barely keep pace.

He wasn't just fighting an enemy.

He was fighting every unfinished dream the Tower ever buried.

He slashed diagonally—and Temporfang reacted not like a sword, but a conductor's blade, drawing the second stave through space.

Shell Pulse: Echo of Origin – Extended Cut.

A burst of perfectly harmonized tempo launched Nullaria back.

The stave locked in place.

[2nd Bar Written – Emotional Base: Harmony Resonance with Shadowcall Counterplay]

Leon's eyes burned.

Sweat rolled down his neck.

But he smiled.

Because the music… was taking form.