My Charity System made me too OP

Leon frowned.

There were two armies frozen around him. One wore black and bronze armor, wielding weapons powered by compressed mana cores. The other side—ghostly, semi-transparent—wielded raw energy and radiant sigils, their faces obscured by helms of crystal.

He walked forward through the stillness, boots crunching soft ash.

The system whispered again:

Cause of the war: A forgotten Echo. A king who never ascended. A prophecy that failed.

Find the one who started it.

Find the one who still believes it isn't over.

A humming sound reached his ears.

Then a voice.

Faint, feminine. Tired. Determined.

"You're not part of either side."

He turned.

A woman sat atop a broken war machine, her armor cracked and her left arm missing. Her gaze was sharp, unbroken despite her injuries.

Her badge bore the name: Commander Elarin.

"You came through the cracked gate," she said. "That means you're not bound by this loop."

Leon stepped closer. "Who started the war?"

"Everyone," she said. "And no one."

Then she looked up, and her expression shifted. "But if you're really here to end it, you'll have to face the Last Duel."

He tensed. "Who?"

She looked toward the horizon. "The one who never gave up."

The sky shuddered.

Lightning split the clouds.

From the opposite ridge, a lone figure began walking forward. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Armor etched with battle records. A greatsword strapped across his back, humming with Law residue.

And a face that made Leon stop.

It was his own.

Another version.

But not twisted like Dominion Leon.

Not reflective like the Ever-Moment.

This version… was tired. Hardened. But proud.

A warrior who had fought for so long he no longer knew what peace looked like.

[Opponent Identified: Leon Aetheren – Echo Trace Variant: The Last Blade]

Role: War-Ender / Pact-Breaker

Notes: Remained behind to hold the cycle. Believes breaking the conflict will destroy everything.

Leon stepped forward.

"I'm not here to erase anything," he said quietly. "I'm here to finish what you couldn't."

The Last Blade looked up.

And smiled. Just a little.

"I used to say the same thing."

He drew his sword.

The system dimmed.

The battlefield lit.

Final Engagement – Echo Clash Protocol

Rules Disabled. Witnesses Purged.

Winner Defines the Truth of the War.

The fight was brutal from the start.

No Law tricks.

No layered echoes.

Just pure combat.

Steel met steel, pressure for pressure. Shell Reverb clashed against perfected martial rhythm. Every time Leon tried to shift to advanced combat layering, the Last Blade responded with something older. Simpler. Sharper.

A parry. A kick. A step forward that closed all space.

Leon was pushed back—again and again.

The Last Blade wasn't fighting to win.

He was fighting to remind.

That strength wasn't about systems.

It was about resolve.

Leon fell once.

Twice.

But he never stayed down.

He adjusted—not his magic, not his skills—but his stance.

He met the Last Blade's rhythm.

Step for step.

Breath for breath.

And then, in the final clash, he didn't strike to kill.

He struck to end it.

A palm to the chest. A delay pulse through the spine.

A disarm. A collapse.

The Last Blade fell to one knee, blade buried in the ash beside him.

And for the first time… he exhaled.

"So that's the version of me who figured it out."

Leon stood over him. "You held the war together because it was all you knew."

"It was all I had."

Leon offered a hand.

"You've carried it long enough."

The Last Blade looked up.

Then smiled—and let go.

The battlefield faded.

The bodies turned to stardust.

And the two armies dissolved into memory.

[Trial Complete – Floor 605 Cleared]

Conflict Resolved: Echo War

Reward: Law Fragment – Weight of Peace

Title Earned: Cyclebreaker

Access Unlocked: Group Rejoin – Floor 606 Preparation Platform

When Leon reappeared in the next chamber, Roselia was already waiting.

She didn't speak.

She just nodded, seeing something in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

A deeper kind of strength.

Not forged in systems or powers—

But in the decision to let go of battles already won.

And behind him, in the echoes, a war finally ended.

Leon and his team stood once again as one. The reunion after the War That Never Ended was quiet, but it carried weight. None of them asked what had happened in their solo trials. They didn't need to. The looks in their eyes were enough.

Something had changed in all of them.

Naval had a new glyph on the side of his neck—one pulsing slowly with time-bound runes. Milim carried a pair of new gauntlets that flickered between matter and myth. Roman's blade was sheathed for once, not in arrogance, but in stillness, like a soldier choosing when to draw breath.

And Leon—

He was quieter now.

Not cold.

Just clear.

Roselia noticed it first. His steps were more grounded. His pulse, steadier. There was no longer tension in the way he held himself between fights. There was just... readiness. Not for survival, but for the next shape of the Tower.

They all looked forward as the new floor's gate opened.

There was no storm this time. No thunder, no blinding surge of energy. Just a vast stair of carved obsidian descending into a spiraling core. Wind whispered upward, carrying scents of old ink, cooled stone, and candlewax.

At the bottom lay a temple—a convergence of thousands of roads twisting downward from across the Tower.

Each one carved by a different climber.

And all ending here.

[Welcome to Floor 606 – The Spiral Conclave]

Zone Type: Forum of Legacy

Designation: Architect-Tier Convergence Chamber

Objective: Witness. Testify. Shape the Spiral Memory.

Combat: Conditional

Influence Tier: Judge-Level

Warning: Floor Will Remember Your Words.

"What is this place?" Kael asked, voice low.

Leon didn't answer at first. His gaze had locked onto the central chamber—a stone disc surrounded by archways of different styles and eras. Floating above the center of the room was a memory spiral, its threads glowing faintly, each one an imprint left behind by someone who had reached this point.

Dozens were active.

Many more were dim—remnants of climbers who had reached the Conclave… but failed to leave their mark.

Naval stepped forward. "It's a meeting place."

Milim narrowed her eyes. "For who?"

"Those who built as they climbed," Leon said. "Not just power. Not just kills. Change. The ones who didn't just survive the Tower—they reshaped it."