My Charity System made me too OP-Chapter 284: Deep Sea Singers III

The horizon of Aethralun shuddered under the pressure of the Rift. There was no warning, no subtlety—one moment, the Rift was a calm sea, and the next, it split open with a resounding crack.

Dark, twisted ships poured through, formed from the remains of dying worlds. Some resembled grotesque skeletal fish, others terrifying leviathans of warped metal and bone, bristling with ominous null-energy harpoons.

But what came behind the ships was the real threat: the Weavers. Cloaked in shifting veils of broken memory, their presence bled reality, creating a visceral wrongness that made the very waters of the Rift tremble.

The outer defenses of Aethralun began to stir, activating harmonic turrets and summoned Choir Guardians, but they were not enough. Not yet.

Leon stood at the center of the Nexus, his fists clenched, power simmering beneath his skin. His eyes flashed with a dangerous light as he addressed his team.

"This is it," he said, voice calm, though his aura burned with intensity. "We don't wait for them to come to us. We finish this—now."

Without further command, Leon raised his hand, and the Rift responded.

As if the very fabric of the Rift twisted around him, Leon's Destruction magic erupted in full force. The ground beneath him cracked open, ripples of power spreading out like shockwaves, obliterating the invader ships in a matter of moments.

He snapped his fingers.

A blinding eruption of energy tore through the Weavers' fleet—vessels splintering into nothing but dark dust as their energy fields evaporated into the void.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, he summoned his Origin Conjurere ability—an ability that allowed him to pull forth beings of immense power from beyond the Rift. Massive, ethereal titans formed out of the energy itself.

One titan, a colossal being of fire and void, crushed an entire Weaver ship underfoot, its gigantic form roaring in triumph. Another, a storm-wielding creature of the deep, summoned torrential storms that enveloped multiple Weaverspire ships, frying their energy cores before sending them tumbling into the abyss.

"End them!" Leon commanded, his voice dark with the weight of his authority.

The summoned creatures obeyed, their colossal forms moving through the enemy ranks with deadly grace, ripping through the invaders like a force of nature. As they tore through the ships, Leon stood, unwavering, his presence anchoring the forces of destruction to reality itself.

Seeing the decimation of their fleet, the Weavers themselves took action. They cloaked their forms in even more complex veils of shattered memories, trying to warp reality to their advantage.

But Leon had already anticipated this.

He spoke a single word: "Erasure."

The air itself vibrated as the Weavers' attempts to distort time and space shattered against the oncoming flood of Leon's raw power. Every illusion, every memory trick they tried to conjure, was instantly undone as his Destruction magic unraveled their very essence.

One of the Weavers—a massive, shifting entity with a thousand faces—appeared before him, its voice a cacophony of voices. "You cannot destroy what has never existed," it hissed, its form flickering like a broken mirror.

Leon's smile was cold.

"You're wrong," he said softly.

With a single motion, he extended his hand, palm open. The world around him seemed to crack, and the Rift itself began to shudder. Dark energy swirled around Leon's fingers, and with an explosion of energy, he thrust his hand forward.

The Weavers' twisted form disintegrated instantly, its attempt at manipulation vanishing in a burst of radiant destruction.

The other Weavers, sensing their defeat, tried to retreat—tried to flee back into the void.

But Leon had no intention of letting them leave.

Leon's power surged again, and this time, he didn't bother with subtleties. His Origin Conjurere ability opened a rift, pulling the ultimate creatures of the Rift—those born of the very fabric of creation and destruction. These entities were even older than the Deep Singers, beings that could unravel whole realities.

He released them into the battle.

The beings clashed with the remaining invaders. Their bodies pulsed with overwhelming energy that blanketed entire sectors of the Rift in radiant destruction. The Weavers tried to fight back, but they were no match for the sheer force of these summoned titans, each one a manifestation of pure power.

As the last of the invaders were eradicated, the Rift fell silent. The once-vibrant battleground was now a sea of shattered ships and disintegrating memories.

Leon stood motionless, his hand still extended toward the empty space where the Weavers had once been. His summons returned to their origin, fading from existence, leaving nothing behind but the quiet hum of the restored city.

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"That was…" Roselia breathed, her voice in awe. "That was incredible."

Leon nodded, his gaze distant as he looked out over the city. "The Ravelers won't be the last to come. But we won't be caught off guard again."

Behind them, the Choir children's songs filled the air once more—stronger, brighter, and in harmony with the very fabric of the city. It had been a close fight, but they had emerged victorious, stronger for it.

Roman clapped Leon on the back, chuckling. "Well, if they are the last to come, we should probably send them a thank-you note."

Leon smirked. "Don't get cocky. There are still too many unknowns out there. But for now... Aethralun is safe."

And with that, the city's defenses hummed once more, stronger than ever. The team, together, would continue to shape the future of their world.

The Tideheart pulsed. The city sang.

Mission Update:Rift Incursion ClearedNew Directive: Continue Restoring the Chorus of Aethralun.

The waters of the Rift had quieted, but the air was heavy with the weight of what had just transpired. Leon stood at the heart of Aethralun, overlooking the city as the last remnants of the invasion melted away. The resonance of his power still lingered in the air, a reminder of the devastation they had unleashed upon the invaders.

Behind him, Roman, Liliana, and the rest of the team gathered, their expressions a mixture of exhaustion and awe. Even Millim, usually brimming with energy, stood still, her hands resting lightly on the edge of a broken coral pillar.

"That was… beyond anything I imagined," Roman said, shaking his head in disbelief. "We didn't just fight them—we eradicated them."

"Didn't need to fight fair," Leon replied, his voice as calm as ever. "The Rift is ours to command now, but we need to make sure no one else decides to test it."