My Charity System made me too OP-Chapter 156: Divine Ruins

"Don’t underestimate this place," Naval warned, gripping her rapier. "These souls are not just lingering—they’re desperate. They’ve been waiting for centuries to lash out at the living."

Lilian cracked her knuckles, dark flames flickering around her gauntlets. "Let them try. I could use a proper warm-up."

Leon remained silent, his gaze locked on the ruined temple’s massive gates, where a faint golden glow pulsed ominously. Without a word, he raised his hand, activating Origin Conjurer.

Immediately, three figures materialized beside him—each one equal to his level and power.

A Golden Knight, clad in radiant armor that seemed to hum with divine energy, his sword exuding an aura of absolute destruction.

A Destruction Magus, his robes shifting like a void of nothingness, eyes burning with chaotic energy.

A Blood Magus, her presence alone making the air feel heavier, her hands dripping with liquid crimson as if reality itself bled at her command.

Seeing this, Milim scoffed and summoned her own forces—two warriors standing beside her:

A Blood Grand Knight, his crimson armor pulsing with raw strength, his eyes glowing with an eerie hunger for battle.

A Dark Grand Knight, his body cloaked in shadows, his twin greatswords humming with cursed energy.

At their backs, Naval and Lilian stood ready, prepared to assist when needed.

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The ground beneath them rumbled, the whispers turning into agonized wails.

From the depths of the ruins, the first wave of cursed souls emerged—hundreds of wretched spirits, their hollow eyes filled with endless torment. Behind them, skeletal knights and fallen paladins in rusted holy armor began marching forward, their golden halos now blackened and cracked.

At the very top of the ruined temple, seated upon a throne of golden bones, was the Prophet, his decayed body wrapped in shimmering, ethereal robes. His hollow eyes flickered with what little soul remained as he stared down at the intruders.

"You dare step into the sacred ruins?" his voice echoed, layered with countless tormented cries. "You will join us in eternal worship. Kneel before the Mother of Light!"

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Leon cracked his neck, a smirk forming on his lips.

"Yeah… not happening."

With a snap of his fingers, his summoned beings charged into battle, unleashing devastation upon the cursed army.

The raid had begun.

The battle erupted like a storm of destruction.

Leon’s Golden Knight charged forward, his radiant greatsword cleaving through cursed paladins like paper, each swing erasing their tormented souls from existence. Beside him, the Destruction Magus raised his hands, chanting in an ancient tongue as pure annihilation magic coalesced around him—black lightning crackled and surged forward, disintegrating everything in its path.

The Blood Magus danced through the battlefield, her very presence causing blood to boil and explode from the spectral knights. She extended her hand, and veins of crimson energy erupted from the ground, ensnaring and crushing dozens of enemies at once.

On Milim’s side, her Blood Grand Knight waded into the enemy forces like a living calamity, his every strike sending shockwaves that shattered dozens of cursed souls in an instant. His armor pulsed with raw energy, absorbing the fallen souls and converting them into pure power.

The Dark Grand Knight, on the other hand, moved like a shadow given form. He blurred across the battlefield, decapitating multiple enemies with each fluid motion. The air around him twisted, forming a field of pure darkness that swallowed incoming attacks and turned them into retaliatory strikes.

Above them, the Prophet sneered. "You are strong, but strength alone is meaningless against faith!"

He raised his decayed staff, and the ruins trembled as ten towering figures emerged from the darkness—each one a reborn Arch Lich, their skeletal forms wrapped in golden robes, pulsating with unholy divine energy.

But the worst was yet to come.

A single monstrous presence manifested behind the Prophet—a Death Lich, its form wrapped in a black shroud, its skeletal fingers gripping a staff dripping with condensed death mana. Its hollow eyes gleamed with boundless malice as it whispered a single word:

"Oblivion."

A pulse of necrotic energy surged across the battlefield, making even Milim’s knights momentarily falter. The air grew heavier, and the souls that had been slain rose once more, their forms stronger and more twisted than before.

From their vantage point, Leon, Milim, Roselia, Roman, Naval, and Lilian watched the unfolding chaos.

"So," Milim grinned, resting her chin on her hand. "That’s eleven times the strength of our previous fight."

Leon exhaled, watching his summons clash with the overwhelming numbers. "Yeah… but on the bright side, it also means eleven times the mana and materials."

Roselia shot him a deadpan look. "Only you would turn this nightmare into a profit calculation."

Roman chuckled darkly. "Well, he’s not wrong. But the real question is—do our summons have the endurance to finish this without our help?"

Naval and Lilian exchanged glances, their hands gripping their weapons tighter.

Milim stretched. "I guess we’ll find out."

Leon’s Golden Knight met the charge of an Arch Lich, their weapons clashing in a thunderous impact that sent shockwaves rippling through the ruined cathedral. The undead king hissed, raising a hand, and golden chains of cursed divinity lashed toward the knight—only for the warrior’s blade to cleave through them effortlessly, his divine aura suppressing the corrupted power.

The Destruction Magus unleashed a barrage of black lightning, each strike causing massive implosions that swallowed entire waves of undead. However, the Death Lich merely raised a single bony finger, and an eerie anti-magic field pulsed outward, nullifying the Magus’s devastating attacks.

Meanwhile, the Blood Magus weaved through the battlefield, manipulating the blood of fallen enemies to craft devastating attacks. She raised her hand, and the battlefield was painted crimson—veins of pure blood magic forming spiked tendrils that pierced through the resurrected undead. Yet, despite her efforts, the Death Lich’s power ensured that nothing truly died—every fallen warrior would rise again, stronger than before.

On Milim’s side, her Blood Grand Knight roared as he cleaved through undead in rapid succession, his greatsword absorbing the essence of the fallen, making him even more monstrous in power. His very presence caused the battlefield to tremble, and each of his swings shattered the sound barrier.