My Charity System made me too OP

They crossed the bridge in silence.

No roar of magic. No rumble of shifting architecture.

Just a feeling—like the Tower had inhaled.

The bridge gave way to light. Then the light faded, revealing a sky unlike any they had seen before. Fractured.

Above them hung dozens of broken constellations, like someone had taken a perfect night and smashed it with a hammer. The stars were moving, slow and deliberate, spiraling around something unseen at the center.

Beneath their feet: glass.

No, not quite. It was a transparent platform—a floor made of reinforced mana webbing, hexagonal patterns faintly visible, crisscrossing into infinity in all directions.

They had entered the Sundered Nexus.

[Welcome to Floor 607 – The Sundered Nexus]

Zone Type: Fracture Layer – World Link Relay

Tier Access: Architect-Class Only

Core Trait: Dimensional Disjunction

Threat Level: Variable

Challenge: Stabilize the fractured leyline core

Combat Mode: Partial Reflection / Hostile Echoes

Rewards: Nexus Binding Fragment / Dimensional Key Access

Warning: This floor is not stable.

The environment will react to unresolved conflicts—internal or external.

Your Echoes may not remain friendly.

Leon turned slowly, taking in the view. His team had formed a semi-circle behind him, each member doing the same.

Roselia stepped forward and tapped the floor with her shield.

No sound.

Just a soft vibration, like humming glass.

Kael muttered, "This place feels like… every version of the Tower collided."

Naval was already scanning the mana lattice. "Some of this architecture… it's not even from our Tower. These leyline patterns—they're from other Nexus routes. Other iterations."

"Other worlds," Leon said quietly. "This is a collision zone."

The system chimed again, almost reluctantly:

You are walking through a space that should not exist.

Every step forward aligns you with a timeline that never fully survived.

Echoes will respond accordingly.

The first attack came without warning.

One moment they were walking. The next, Roman's blade was out, clashing with something that looked like—

"Milim?!" Roselia shouted.

But it wasn't her.

It looked like her. Moved like her. But her expression was hollow. Her energy was wrong—chaotic, wild, uncontrolled.

It was an Echo Milim—a version of her from a Tower that had collapsed.

The false Milim launched forward, gauntlets glowing, eyes locked onto Leon.

He didn't hesitate.

"Naval—lock the side lattice. Kael, force-displace the echo's anchor."

Roselia blocked a feint while Roman tackled the doppelgänger from behind.

Leon moved through the chaos and activated Shell Pulse: Echo Drift, sliding between real and false timing.

He struck her core.

And watched the image fracture—shattering into motes of golden dust.

The system updated:

[Reflection Echo Neutralized – Sector Stability Increased: 7%]

But that was just the first.

Dozens more followed.

Kael fought a version of himself who had chosen violence over thought—a Kael who burned mana with no control. Roselia faced a reflection where she had become a tyrant general. Naval held off two echo-sigils that mimicked corrupted versions of his own calculations.

Leon saw them all. Fought only when needed.

He was looking for something else.

Not just stability. Not just survival.

He was listening—to the core.

And then he found it.

A rift deeper in the Nexus. A floating chamber split from the main grid, surrounded by collapsing mana spirals. Inside was a mirror—shaped like a blade. And in it, his own face again.

But not an echo.

Not a corruption.

A choice.

The mirror spoke, not with voice, but with thought:

"You've climbed. You've built.

But will you choose to bind your legacy to the Nexus?"

Leon approached slowly.

"What does that mean?"

"It means stepping beyond the Tower's rise.

It means becoming a fixed point in its evolution.

No longer just a climber.

Not just an architect.

But a keeper."

Roselia's voice came through the bond, faint but clear. "We're holding the line. But this floor's falling apart fast."

Leon looked into the mirror again. Saw every floor. Every trial. Every moment he could have turned back. Every person who followed him anyway.

Then, he placed a hand on the blade-shaped mirror.

[Nexus Binding in Progress…]

Warning: Core Bonding is Permanent.

Traits Gained Will Reshape Future Floors.

Continue?

He nodded once.

"Yes."

Light exploded outward.

The Nexus didn't collapse.

It realigned.

All fractured paths flowed into a new center.

And from the silence, the system declared:

[Nexus Claim Registered – Leon Aetheren, Core-Bound Architect]

Sector Stabilized: Floor 607 Permanently Linked

Trait Unlocked: Leyline Anchor

Passive Effect: Nearby floors become more stable; reflective echoes deterred

Title Earned: Keeper of the Shattered Spiral

Leon opened his eyes.

The Nexus had calmed.

His team appeared beside him, transported automatically.

Roselia looked at him—and saw it. The shift.

"You chose to take the anchor," she said softly.

He nodded. "If we don't, someone else will. And not everyone builds upward."

Milim chuckled, stretching. "Well then. Lead on, Keeper."

Naval smirked. "No pressure."

They turned toward the next gate.

Not a spiral.

Not shattered.

Just a door, steady and waiting.

And Leon stepped toward it, carrying not just power—

But responsibility.

There was no fanfare when the door opened.

No glowing runes. No booming voice. Just a quiet hiss of pressure equalizing between one realm and the next.

Leon stepped through first.

The rest followed—Roselia, Kael, Naval, Milim, and Roman—each alert, quiet, aware that whatever came next wasn't going to be another battlefield they could simply power through.

Instead of chaos, they found silence.

A stone corridor. Smooth. Circular. The walls bore etchings—stories carved into curved stone like someone had taken entire lifetimes and pressed them into one winding path.

No torches, no lights. And yet, everything was clearly visible. As if the Tower itself wanted them to see.

Milim frowned, tracing her fingers across a carved figure: a young warrior raising a banner above a broken gate. "This looks like a memory."

Naval tapped a glyph near the bottom. "No… it's more than that. These are witnessings."

Leon paused mid-step. "Explain."

Naval straightened. "Some floors don't record events through systems. They do it by imprinting what was seen. Felt. Lived. These walls? They're watching us. Right now. And they're deciding whether what we do here… deserves to be remembered."

Kael muttered, "So basically, no pressure."