My Charity System made me too OP
Chapter 369 - 369: Echo Sovereign II

The anomaly fell, arms twitching.

Its core opened—spilling not blood, but data. Light. A sigh, if one could hear a memory exhale.

The second Pulse Node floated up from the ground.

Leon approached slowly.

"Second node," he said. "One more to go."

Temporfang pulsed. Not urgently. Calmly. As if acknowledging they were nearly ready.

Roselia approached him after the activation.

"…Back there," she said quietly, "you didn't flinch. Not once."

Leon's eyes didn't leave the core.

"I used to think Echoes were just data."

He finally looked at her.

"But they're more than recordings. They're… regrets that never got resolved."

She nodded slowly.

"And you resolve them."

"No," he replied, looking toward the looming heart of the next sector.

"They choose to end—because I remind them of something better."

A distant bell tolled.

A corridor unfolded before them—gears pulling back, revealing a deep sanctum untouched by time.

At the end…

A glowing sarcophagus.

A final guardian.

But this time, no echo was crying.

No scream.

No broken data.

Just waiting.

Leon sheathed Temporfang as he stepped forward.

"We end this."

There were no enemies on the way to the third Pulse Node.

Not a single construct. Not a flicker of battle data. Not a glitched echo or malfunctioning drone. No traps. No warping anomalies.

Just silence.

A silence so deep, it crawled along the skin like frost. Even the air had weight, as though they were walking through a vacuum.

Leon led the way, Temporfang sheathed but vibrating faintly against his back, as if it, too, felt the presence watching them. Every corridor they passed was pristine, untouched by time or decay. The walls were made of obsidian-steel veined with glowing silver pulse threads. The light dimmed behind them as they advanced, never ahead—forcing them to walk into an ever-deepening void.

Roselia stayed close behind Leon, her gaze narrowed, eyes flicking to every corner. The others were silent. Even Milim didn't speak.

It was as if the floor itself was holding its breath.

And then, they reached it.

The corridor opened into a circular chamber, wider than any they'd seen on this floor—perhaps even larger than the arena where Leon had forged Temporfang. In its center stood a single monolithic structure: a crystalline sarcophagus bound in silver bands of ancient tech. Floating above it was the third and final Pulse Node, glowing steadily—but not yet active.

Leon stepped forward—and instantly, something changed.

Time slowed. Not from an anomaly. Not from a trap.

From a choice.

The floor itself had shifted into judgement mode.

Without a sound, the sarcophagus released a soft hiss—and the silver bindings uncoiled like metal serpents. The crystal lid split down the center and withdrew, revealing the figure inside.

A woman.

Not human. Not machine.

Her body was built like a perfect echo: translucent but solid, made of interwoven strands of memory, code, and ancient pulse energy. Her eyes opened slowly—violet and bottomless. She wore no armor, no visible weapon. Just a thin mantle of layered light, like woven glass.

When she stood, her feet never touched the ground.

She looked directly at Leon.

Then she spoke.

"You are Rhythm Sovereign."

Her voice didn't echo.

It absorbed the silence.

Leon nodded once. "Yes."

"You bear the Sovereign Emblem. You have awakened the first and second Pulse Nodes of Gateworks. You wield a blade shaped by tempo, truth, and tribulation."

She began to descend from the sarcophagus, hovering toward him. Her presence rippled time like wind disturbs water.

"I am the final node," she said softly. "I am not a test. I am not an enemy."

Leon raised an eyebrow. "Then what are you?"

She stopped just short of him, only a meter away. Her form pulsed once—then stabilized.

"I am the First Echo," she said. "The last true recording of the Tower's Prime Pulse Architect. I carry the memory of the original Sovereign. And I must know…"

She extended her hand, gently, and touched Leon's chest—right over his heart.

"…will you carry rhythm alone, or rewrite the beat of the Tower itself?"

Leon met her gaze without flinching. "I don't need to rewrite it. I'll remind it."

She stared for several long seconds.

Then she smiled.

It was soft, real, impossibly old.

"…Correct answer."

And then everything shattered.

Not the floor. Not the air. Time.

Leon blinked—and the chamber was gone.

He now stood on a flat, infinite plane of mirrored crystal, surrounded by floating music bars, pulsating lightwaves, and rings of sound spinning like galaxies.

The woman stood opposite him—but she was no longer calm.

Now she wore armor made of memories. Her mantle had become a symphony of soundplates. Her hands held no weapons, but each movement she made warped rhythm itself.

"I must show you," she said. "What it means to claim the rhythm. Not just of battle—but of change."

Leon unsheathed Temporfang.

The blade pulsed once. Then again. As if counting down.

They charged.

The clash did not begin with steel—but with intent.

She moved first, flicking her hand in a simple gesture—yet three echoes of herself appeared instantly, each attacking from a different tempo layer: past, present, and future.

Leon ducked low, flipping backward in an arc of his own rhythm. He parried the present, sidestepped the past, and let the future hit—only to rewind himself mid-fall and appear behind her, striking with a three-beat combination of Tripart Echo.

She turned into mist.

Not smoke—memory fog—and reformed above him, raining down spears made of sound harmonics.

Leon shifted his heartbeat.

Karmic Loop activated. Each attack she threw came back around and struck the empty air beside her, the loop destabilizing her form.

She landed again—this time, slower.

"You understand it," she said, exhaling. "But you haven't heard the original rhythm yet."

She lifted both hands.

The world around them sang.

Not with lyrics—but with voices.

Hundreds.

Thousands.

All former Ascenders, all Sovereigns who failed… all their final echoes singing their last strike into the ether.

Leon braced as the pulse storm struck.

But he did not flinch.

He raised Temporfang. Closed his eyes.

And answered.