My Charity System made me too OP-Chapter 311: Limit

Leon activated a shell twist—rolling into the blow, absorbing some of the shock with Shell Reverb. He redirected the force into a backstep, but Velkhar was already upon him.

A knee strike to the ribs—crack.

Leon coughed blood but didn't fall. He grabbed the arm and countered with a point-blank pulse of kinetic feedback—his Shell Reverb spitting out the magma-blast's echo into Velkhar's chest.

Boom!

The explosion sent both of them flying, but Velkhar landed first, flames licking across his armored limbs. "Good," he muttered. "Fight like a beast."

The temperature on the bridge skyrocketed. Molten vents burst, and the obsidian under their feet became glasslike and slippery. Leon's boots smoked.

He charged in, using Tripart Echo for the first time this battle—three layers of stored impact detonated in a single motion. His punch shattered a chunk of Velkhar's shoulder-plate—but not without cost.

Velkhar roared and grabbed Leon mid-strike, slamming him to the floor once, twice, thrice.

Blood pooled beneath Leon, his bones fracturing. His mind blurred.

Shell Reverb Mastery: 73%

He grit his teeth. "Pain is just stored data."

He twisted into the floor, absorbing the last slam with a spiral-based flow—then detonated it upward as a pulse that knocked Velkhar's arms wide open. Leon rose, using the recoil to plant a heel into Velkhar's chin, flipping the brute.

But Velkhar caught his leg mid-air—and dragged him headfirst into a geyser vent.

Leon's body was scorched. Skin burned. Blood steamed from fresh cuts. But in that moment of pain, the memory became pure.

He activated a new layered maneuver—Shell Reverb: Delay Pulse—using staggered echoes from previous blows and spacing them into timed intervals.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Three internal explosions shook Velkhar from the inside. His chest burst. He staggered back—

—but refused to fall.

The two stood, both barely upright.

Then Leon whispered, "Fourth Echo—Drift Spiral."

He vanished—reappearing behind Velkhar with a movement that didn't disturb the air.

One strike. All stored force from the battle condensed into a spiraled kinetic lance.

Leon drove it into Velkhar's back.

The arena ruptured.

Flames died.

Silence.

Then the voice:

"Victory: Challenger Leon. Rank 51 Defeated."

Leon fell to one knee. Blood dripped from his chin. His body trembled.

But he smiled.

He was still standing.

The obsidian flames of the arena guttered into smoldering embers as Leon knelt in the cracked remnants of the battlefield. His breath was ragged, every inhale scraping against fractured ribs and blistered lungs. Blood streaked his face, his armor reduced to scorched threads barely clinging to his skin.

Roselia and Naval were the first to rush in as the barrier finally faded. Roselia fell to her knees beside him, her hands glowing faintly with healing energy. "Leon… you're burning up," she whispered, barely able to hold back tears. "You should've stopped after Rank 52."

Naval stood behind, arms folded but eyes grim. "He won—but barely. That wasn't victory. That was survival by a thread."

Leon didn't respond at first. His eyes were half-lidded, mind still echoing with the final pulse of the Drift Spiral. His body trembled not from fear—but from how close it had come to breaking.

Footsteps echoed across the fractured bridge.

A towering elder Obsidian Ant, robed in aged battle-leathers, approached slowly. Unlike the other warriors, this one bore no weapon—only a staff etched with ancient runes and the unmistakable crest of the Ant Clan Elders. His carapace had grayed with age, his eyes sunken but piercing.

He halted before Leon and bowed his head.

"You have done the impossible," the Elder said, voice gravelly yet composed. "No outsider in the last fifty cycles has reached Rank 51, let alone passed it."

Leon tried to speak—but coughed violently instead, tasting copper.

The Elder raised a hand. "Do not waste your breath. Listen."

A long pause followed.

"You are at your limit, Leon of the Voidbreakers," the Elder said solemnly. "I have watched your ascent since Rank 70. You have climbed far too quickly, and pushed your mortal shell beyond what most endure in decades."

Leon looked up, jaw tight. "I'm not done—"

"But your body is," the Elder interjected, firm but not cruel. "Your core is fraying. Your pulse techniques are overtaxed. Another battle like this, and you will not walk away. You will break."

The wind whistled through the arena, quieting the crowd.

"You carry the weight of growth not just in strength, but in wisdom," the Elder continued. "And wisdom sometimes means knowing when to pause. To build anew. You have proven your might. Now grow your foundation—or die with it shattered."

Leon lowered his eyes.

His fists, still clenched, relaxed.

"…I understand," he finally said.

The Elder nodded slowly. "Good. Rest. Heal. Ascend not just in the rankings, but in level, body, and spirit. You are close to your next evolution. Let it come to you with purpose, not desperation."

He turned, his cloak sweeping behind him.

"One more thing, Leon Voidbreaker."

Leon glanced up again.

"When you are ready… come to the Obsidian Breach Monastery. The Fourth Layer of Shell Reverb—The Absolute Return—is taught only there."

With that, the elder vanished into the tunnels, leaving only silence in his wake.

Roselia leaned into Leon's side, helping him stand with her shoulder.

Leon looked up toward the towering ziggurat that led to Rank 50… then turned away.

Not out of defeat.

But because even dragons must sleep between flights.

***

Leon lay bandaged and recovering in a moss-lined chamber at the Obsidian Breach Monastery. The Elder Ant's warning echoed in his thoughts:

"You walk a line, Voidbreaker. One more step, and your shell may crack beyond repair. Your will is strong—but your body bleeds truth."

His muscles ached, his breathing was shallow, and the heat of the final blow from Rank 51 still pulsed beneath his ribs like a brand. Roselia sat nearby, gently cleaning a fresh wound on his side, her expression tight with worry.

"You pushed too far," she muttered.

Leon didn't argue. "I had to see where the edge was."

Roman entered next, carrying a clay jug of cooling root extract. "You found the edge, alright," he said, handing it over. "Nearly fell right off it."