My Charity System made me too OP-Chapter 294: Leveling Up

Second Trial: The King's Spiral

They entered a vast throne room twisted into an impossible spiral, its walls made of frozen time, where each step forward was also a step backward in memory.

At the center, sat the Forgotten King.

A massive figure, draped in torn gold, crowned with stars gone dim. His sword was rusted through, impaled in the stone before him. He did not move. He did not speak.

Until the team approached.

Then the throne cracked—and time screamed.

The King's voice echoed in fragments.

"Why… do you… seek my crown… if you do not know your name?"

A wave of Temporal Unmaking hit them all, forcing each into visions of past battles—failures they had buried.

Leon alone remained unaffected.

He strode toward the king.

"You gave up. We never will."

The king's eyes glowed—fragments of ancient will—and his shattered sword rose into the air, reforging in his grasp.

Boss Battle: Forgotten King, Last Heir of the Spiral Throne

The battle was not linear.

Each phase shifted the battlefield through broken timelines:

Phase 1: Knight of the Golden Path — A past version of the king, full of valor, wielding holy light. Naval and Roselia disrupted his spellcasting while Roman took blows head-on.

Phase 2: King of Conquest — A tyrant version, wielding a burning greatsword and time-warp abilities. Millim, grinning, matched his aggression, trading blows and laughs.

Phase 3: Hollow Monarch — The present form. A ghost clinging to power, wielding a blade that erased moments from history. Liliana anchored the team with harmonic stabilizers while Leon stepped forward for the final duel.

Leon clashed with the Hollow Monarch in a silence beyond time. Void magic flared as he matched the King's disappearing strikes—until he opened his Origin and whispered:

"Let your crown fall."

With a single Voidbreak, Leon shattered the King's blade and caught the falling crown before it touched the ground.

Dungeon Cleared:

[The Crown of the Forgotten King] — Claimed by Leon

An artifact of memory and resolve. When worn, grants immunity to temporal effects and increases command over time-based anomalies.

[Echo Core Acquired: Spiral Throne Stabilizer]

A legendary core needed to unlock the next path toward Floor 250.

As the spiral throne disintegrated into starlight, the grayscale faded from the world. Time realigned. The palace was gone—but the crown remained in Leon's hand, now bound to him by fate and right.

The team stood in silence for a moment.

Then Roman muttered, "Okay… that was the weirdest one yet."

Liliana smiled faintly. "And the most dangerous."

Roselia looked toward the horizon, her voice quiet. "Two left. The last ones must be beyond even this."

Leon placed the crown inside his storage ring.

"Then let's meet them head-on."

Dungeon Five: The Altar of Silence

Hidden beneath a dead sea of obsidian glass, where no sound travels and even thoughts become faint, the fifth dungeon lay sealed beneath aeons of stillness. It was a place where even the gods once held their breath.

Entry into the Still

The team stood at the edge of the obsidian basin—a black mirror that reflected nothing. No wind. No movement. Even Millim's hair, which always fluttered with her excess energy, hung limp.

"This place is wrong," she muttered, gripping her wyvern spear tighter.

Liliana stepped forward, holding up the map. "There's no door, no runes… but if we resonate together—"

Leon raised his hand. "Wait."

He unsheathed his blade and pressed its edge into the obsidian.

Silence screamed.

A thin fracture spidered across the glass and opened like a vertical pupil, revealing a void-lit stairway spiraling downward.

One by one, they descended.

The Rules of Silence

Upon entering the dungeon proper, a message bloomed across their vision in pale runes:

[Dungeon Protocol: Altar of Silence Initiated]

Communication Disabled. Resonant Thoughts Muted. Sound Nullified.

Only Will Survives.

They tried to speak—no sound came.

They tried to project thought—met with static.

Even Aqua, usually humming or singing within Leon's mental link, had gone quiet.

"Great," Roselia mouthed. "No magic signals either."

They relied on gestures now. Battle signs. Tactical nods. The barest of eye flickers.

This place didn't just block communication—it devoured identity. Each step deeper into the altar made them feel... less. Less distinct. Less them.

The Maze of Still Echoes

The dungeon sprawled into a complex of floating stone paths suspended in silent twilight. No monsters. Just pressure. An oppressive force that pushed into their minds, trying to erase memories.

Each hallway was a test—not of strength, but of endurance of self.

The group split briefly into pairs:

Millim and Roman faced a sequence of memory-draining glyphs. Millim had to burn her own chaotic essence to shield Roman, who began forgetting even his own name until she fed raw flame into his spirit core, reigniting his anchor.

Liliana and Naval crossed an illusion field where false paths tried to trap them in loops. Liliana drew from the Spiral Throne stabilizer's time-memory to trace the true path.

Leon and Roselia walked a narrowing corridor that bled away concepts—first their memories of sound, then of light, then of purpose. Leon simply grabbed Roselia's hand and used a low Void pulse—not to destroy, but to define. The space recoiled from it.

They all reconvened at the true altar.

The Altar of Silence

It was a monolith.

A great obsidian altar flanked by two statues—one screaming, one weeping. Neither made sound.

Above it floated the dungeon's final guardian:

The Warden of the Unspoken, a formless presence wrapped in unraveling language, its body composed of forgotten words, unsung songs, and erased names.

The Warden attacked not with claws or blades—but with negation. It erased attacks before they landed. It unmade memory of spells before they could be cast. Every swing of its force deleted some part of the air or floor or soul.

The team had to fight without being able to speak, think clearly, or even be fully remembered.

Naval was the first to adapt, setting up a rhythm of pulses via ground taps to communicate tactics.

Millim hurled herself in recklessly, getting erased three times—but her chaotic soul regenerated in defiance of definition.

Roselia used shards of her own memory as weapons—summoning phantom echoes of their past selves to bind the Warden temporarily.