My Charity System made me too OP-Chapter 287: Deep Sea Singers VI
At the city's center, the Nexus Arcanum was born: a grand council chamber, temple, and control core all woven into one—a place where the fabric of the Rift could be safely studied, shaped, and defended.
But even as Aethralun flourished, the Rift remained a wild, breathing entity. It whispered with possibilities—and dangers.
****
One evening, as the Tideheart pulsed with its steady heartbeat, Aqua stood at the highest balcony of the Nexus Arcanum, feeling the currents of the Rift twist in unnatural ways.
Liliana joined her, a frown creasing her brow."I've been running simulations," she said, her voice serious. "There's a... distortion building at the outer edges of the Rift."
"Another anomaly?" Aqua asked.
Liliana shook her head. "No. Worse. It's like a scar... a wound trying to heal wrong. If we don't intervene, it could birth something far more dangerous than the Ravelers."
A shimmering portal opened nearby, and Leon stepped through, a high-tier summon—Astral Wolf Fenrith, a sleek creature of starlight and shadow—padding at his side.
"I heard," Leon said grimly. "If it's a wound, then someone—or something—is digging into it. Preparing to break through."
Roman and Millim arrived moments later, armored and ready."We've been waiting for a real challenge," Millim said, cracking her knuckles eagerly.Roman added, "If it's something that threatens Aethralun, we'll end it before it begins."
The Rift Wound — Descent into the Abyss
The team gathered, prepared for deep Rift traversal.
This wasn't a normal Rift dive; the distortion was vast, unstable, and corrosive to memory and identity. Liliana worked quickly, weaving protective harmonics around the team to shield them from the warping effects.
Leon took the lead, his presence a steady anchor for the others.
They descended into the wounded part of the Rift—
—and what they found was not chaos, but order.
Dark, unnatural towers rose from the Rift floor, built from crystallized memory and frozen time. Strange figures moved among them—entities wearing stolen forms, flickering between different realities, like puppets whose strings had been cut and hastily retied.
At the center of it all was a throne, floating above a swirling maelstrom of raw Rift energy.
Seated upon it was a figure cloaked in shifting fragments of existence. It had no true form—only a patchwork of memories, possibilities, and stolen songs.
Liliana gasped softly.
"A Shardlord," she whispered. "A fragment of a forgotten god... something that should never have survived the collapse of the First Rift."
The Shardlord turned its gaze upon them.
Voices—not one, but many—echoed from it.
"Children of the Tideheart. You dare to bind the Rift to your will? You think yourselves its masters?"
"I am the Remnant of All Possibility. I am the Rift's true face. Bow—or be unmade."
Leon's expression hardened. His aura flared, warping the water around him with sheer destructive pressure.
"No," Leon said simply. "You're just a parasite clinging to what's left."
And without hesitation, he raised his hand—
—and called forth his full Origin power: the Conjurer's Armada.
Above them, rifts tore open in the currents, and from each gate surged beings of unimaginable might—star-forged dragons, titan knights of memory-steel, elemental sovereigns older than time itself. Each a High Origin Summon under Leon's command.
The Shardlord shrieked, a sound that shattered the nearby crystal towers into dust.
The Final Confrontation Begins
The battlefield exploded into action.
Leon's summoned army clashed with the Shardlord's legion of twisted realities. Each blow between them sent shockwaves rippling through the Rift.
Roman led a flanking maneuver with Roselia, targeting the Shardlord's stabilization nodes—ancient spires that anchored it to this reality.
Millim, riding a summoned Flame Serpent, dove into the heart of the enemy formations, wreaking havoc with joyful abandon.
Aqua and Liliana, weaving song and memory together, constructed a Reality Cage—a lattice of pure harmonic force—to contain the Shardlord's influence.
Leon advanced straight toward the throne, each step a declaration: this Rift, this future, belonged to them.
The Shardlord lashed out, twisting the laws of existence to strike him down—but Leon was a master of Destruction Magic. His very being unraveled the false attacks, turning void into light, chaos into form. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com
Standing before the throne, Leon summoned his final weapon: The Oblivion Spear, a weapon forged from the collapsed core of a dead Rift.
With a roar that shook the stars themselves, Leon hurled the spear.
It pierced the Shardlord's core—and for the first time, the Rift trembled in awe.
The Shardlord let out a broken, defeated cry as its stolen forms unraveled, dissolving into harmless stardust and fading echoes.
The Rift wound began to heal, the towers collapsing, the unnatural distortion smoothing into serene currents once more.
Victory — True and Absolute
The team gathered, weary but victorious, as Aethralun's resonance embraced them, singing a song of triumph and rebirth.
Leon turned to the others, his voice steady.
"This was just a remnant. The Rift holds more like him... worse, maybe."
"But we're ready," Aqua said, her eyes shining with fierce pride.
Roselia grinned. "Let them come."
Millim spun in the water, laughing. "More toys to break!"
Roman sheathed his blade, smiling. "Aethralun stands. And it always will."
Above them, the stars burned brighter than ever—and in the heart of the Rift, a new legend was born.
New Achievement Unlocked: Woundbearers of the Rift
Next Objective: Establish Forward Bastions Beyond Aethralun
Weeks Later — A New Dawn
For the first time in living memory, the Rift was quiet.
No dark fleets.
No Shardlords.
No howling anomalies tearing at the edges of reality.
Only the soft, eternal hum of the Tideheart, beating in rhythm with the city it had chosen to protect.
From the highest towers of Aethralun, the view stretched endlessly—fields of luminous coral, living gardens in full bloom, gentle currents weaving between sanctuaries of stone, crystal, and song.
The Rift, once a battleground of survival, was now a sea of infinite possibility.
Inside the Nexus Arcanum, the team stood gathered before the central Resonance Sphere.
Liliana's hands moved deftly across the interface, checking for any final anomalies.
Aqua floated nearby, her presence still bound tightly to the heart of the city, her song interwoven with the very fabric of Aethralun's existence.
One by one, the glyphs lit up:
[RIFT STATUS: STABLE]
[ANOMALY LEVEL: ZERO]
[INVASION THREAT: NULLIFIED]
[TIDEHEART STATUS: FULLY SYNCHRONIZED]
Liliana stepped back, her face a mixture of awe and disbelief.
"It's done," she whispered. "There are no more threats. No hidden fractures. No lingering enemies."
The Rift had healed.
Aqua laughed softly—a pure, musical sound.
"It's over," she said, wonder in her voice. "Truly over."
