My Charity System made me too OP

The crystal scroll Leon received unlocked a private chamber deep beneath the arena—part gym, part spiritual forge. The chamber pulsed with rhythmic vibrations, mimicking the internal tempo of the ants' unique Body Force Cultivation.

Core Breathing Pulse was unlike any technique Leon had learned before.

Where magic and summoning drew on external forces—mana, origin planes, spirits—Body Force stemmed from within. It required syncing your heartbeats, breath, and muscle strain into a living circuit of power.

Each breath cycle compressed his muscles, hardened his bones, and circulated vitality through his core.

He sat cross-legged on a blackstone mat. Sweat rolled down his back as the first transformation began—not magical, but visceral.

Roselia watched from the training platform above. "You're changing."

Leon opened his eyes, now flickering with a faint obsidian hue. "I can feel it. My body's not just stronger—it's more efficient. It's like learning how to breathe again… but with power."

[Meanwhile – Market Square, Above the Arena]

Millim, Roman, and Naval explored the Obsidian Bazaar. Black-crystal fruits, enchanted bone tools, and living armor-pods were traded like gold.

Roman pointed to a rack of gauntlets with pulsing veins.

"These… are living gear?" he asked.

The merchant-ant clicked his mandibles. "Yes. They grow with the user. Fused with Body Force resonance, they repair themselves. Some even evolve."

Millim snatched a fiery-orange pair shaped like dragon claws. "I want these."

"They bite," the merchant warned.

Millim grinned. "So do I."

[Back Underground – Breakthrough]

Hours into his training, Leon's body convulsed once as a surge of heat coursed through him.

His skin steamed. His heartbeat slowed—then stabilized. The Core Breathing Pulse locked into perfect rhythm.

[New Trait Acquired: Body Core Initiated]

He stood slowly, fists clenched, the ground beneath cracking with each step. No spell. No aura.

Just power.

Roselia blinked. "You didn't even chant."

"I don't need to."

As they returned to their inn, a sealed obsidian envelope awaited Leon.

Inside: a dark invitation engraved with shimmering lines.

"To the Challenger of Rank 197—

You are invited to the Top 100 Blood Trial."

"Survive. Overcome. Endure.

Earn the next Body Force Technique: The Tenfold Shell Pulse."

Below was a mark only known to elite ascenders: a sigil of a single eye, cracked down the middle.

Leon looked up. "They're watching now."

Roselia frowned. "Who?"

Leon folded the note. "The ones deeper in the Tower. The ones preparing for the war the Floor Master warned us about."

[Top 100 Blood Trial – The Arena of Echoing Bone]

Leon stepped into a colossal underground coliseum, carved from pure obsidian and laced with runes that pulsed in rhythm with the earth itself. Above, thousands of ant-like spectators watched in eerie silence. The Top 100 Blood Trial was sacred—one of few events where even the Obsidian Queen herself might observe.

Roselia, Millim, Roman, and Naval stood in the observation hall, their gazes fixed on the battlefield below.

From the darkness, the Trial Announcer's voice echoed:

"Challenger 197—Leon, the Summoner. Step forward."

Leon exhaled slowly and walked toward the blood-marked center circle. A ripple of mana and pressure rose around him—not his own. It was his opponent's.

Across the field emerged a towering figure, plated in obsidian carapace, rippling with sheer muscle and intensity.

Rank 88 – Khar'Zuun the Bone Titan.

An elite among the Obsidian Ants. Taller than Leon by nearly two meters, and with a hammer-sized fist that crushed stone effortlessly. No mana. No spells.

Only Body Force.

Without a signal, Khar'Zuun charged. The ground exploded beneath his dash. His right fist came down like a meteor.

Leon didn't dodge.

Instead, he met it with his own.

BOOM!

The collision released a shockwave that cracked the arena's edge and shook the pillars above. Both fighters were pushed back—but Leon only slid two meters.

Khar'Zuun grunted. "Not bad, outsider."

Leon smiled faintly. "You haven't seen bad yet."

He activated Core Breathing Pulse, and the obsidian hue returned to his skin. Then he layered Void Compression—a technique of his own Origin—tightening his muscles until his entire body functioned like a pressurized cannon.

They charged again.

This time Leon ducked low and launched upward with a shoulder slam.

KRAK!

Khar'Zuun staggered, his left mandible cracked. He roared and spun, landing a heavy knee into Leon's ribs, sending him flying.

Leon crashed against the arena wall, blood spitting from his mouth. He wiped it off and grinned.

"Your knees are tougher than I thought."

The crowd began to chant now—a low, rhythmic beat.

Khar'Zuun entered Titan Form, his carapace thickening, his fists growing dense and black like onyx. A glowing red sigil lit his chest—the symbol of the Tenfold Shell Pulse.

Leon narrowed his eyes.

"Guess I'll have to show mine."

He extended his hand—and summoned a black seal in the air behind him. A violet rift split open, and from it emerged a figure wrapped in spiraling bandages and gold—

Zar'Kur, the Silent Warlord.

An Origin summon—Tier VII, a war god of strength and momentum.

The crowd gasped. Even Khar'Zuun's eyes widened.

Leon pointed forward.

"Break his stance."

Zar'Kur flashed forward and collided with Khar'Zuun in a burst of motion. Their strikes shattered the air itself—each blow thunderous, grinding, raw.

Leon dashed in behind, leaping over both and landing a crushing palm into Khar'Zuun's chest—

Void Pulse Breaker.

A direct strike to the core.

KRAAAAAK!

Khar'Zuun flew backward, smashing into the far wall, unconscious before he hit the ground.

Silence.

Then, thunderous applause.

The announcer's voice rang out.

"Leon, the summoner, has passed the Trial. Rank 88 confirmed!"

Leon panted, sweat pouring down his brow, but his eyes were still sharp. He dismissed Zar'Kur and walked slowly to the center.

A black pedestal rose before him. Upon it—a scroll.

Tenfold Shell Pulse – Body Force Technique.

"The body becomes the weapon. Each strike is reinforced tenfold. Each defense, a fortress."

As he took it, a voice echoed in his mind—ancient, wise, and heavy:

"Ascend, Voidbreaker. The Tower waits for none."

"But we are waiting fro you, waiting to feast on your flesh"

"we await your arrival"