SSS Ranked Awakening: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Chapter 22 – Cosmic System! And Why Am I Naked!

The throne room shook. Not from Leon. Not from the sphere. But from the force of the hammer crashing down.

BOOM

Stone cracked. Air ruptured. Mana shrieked as the obsidian weapon struck the glowing cocoon of elemental energy.

And—nothing. No dent. No ripple. No response.

The sphere remained still, floating just inches above the floor—untouchable. A sealed world of pure, roiling elemental chaos—not one affinity, but all. Fire, water, wind, earth, lightning, ice, light, shadow, and others—each threaded into the shell like living veins. Ever-shifting. Ever-surging. Controlled only by the soul of the one inside it.

Inside it, Leon floated. Unaware. Unhearing. Unseeing. Unfeeling to anything beyond his agony.

His body burned and reformed. Muscles shredded and reknit. Bones cracked, fused, and reshaped under divine pressure. But he felt nothing of the blow outside. Not the hammer. Not the impact. Not the fury. Just pain. And change.

Outside, the creature’s brow twitched. Once. Then vanished behind a blank mask of obsidian once more. It stepped back—only a pace—and shifted its stance again.

This time, it wasn’t testing. It was committing.

The air thickened. The torchlight flickered—then recoiled. Its arms bulged with pressure, carved limbs flexing under condensed force. Every sharp ridge of its body glowed faintly now—like cracks before eruption. And the hammer?

It lit.

A vein of molten red crawled along its edges, blooming to life in runes older than the dungeon itself. Heat radiated from it now—so thick, the very ground beneath the creature’s feet bubbled and cracked.

One breath.

Then—

BOOM

The second strike fell like divine judgment. The room convulsed. Shards of obsidian tile blasted out from beneath the sphere. The throne itself groaned against the shockwave. Dust rolled. Silence followed.

And when the air cleared—the sphere still hovered. Untouched. Not a crack. Not a shimmer. Not a sound from within.

The creature stared at it. Expression unreadable. Then, slowly, it straightened. Turned. And walked back toward the throne. Its hammer dragged behind it, carving a molten groove across the floor as it moved.

It sat once more, legs crossing, posture relaxed—but the eyes never moved. Still locked on the sphere. Still waiting. Because it understood something now.

This wasn’t over. Not yet.

It was only the calm before the storm.

Inside the sphere, time didn’t move. Only pain did.

Leon wasn’t just evolving—he was being unmade, piece by piece, cell by cell, and rebuilt into something the world had no name for yet.

Elemental energies coursed through him, but it wasn’t just fire and lightning.

Fire blistered his nerves.

Ice froze his lungs.

Lightning danced in his muscles, forcing spasms he couldn’t control.

Earth pressed down like a mountain trying to crush him into obedience.

Wind shredded him from the inside.

Water drowned him in pressure.

Light seared.

Shadow clawed.

Gravity bent his spine inward.

Sound echoed through his bones like thunder trapped in marrow.

Metal, space, time, mist, blood... he couldn’t name them all. But they were there. And they hurt.

Every one carved its mark into him. Muscles snapped and reformed tighter. Bones shattered, regrew harder. Organs burned, froze, twisted, realigned. His senses blurred. Reality stretched. His heartbeat sounded like an orchestra of crashing worlds.

He held on. Barely.

This isn’t awakening. This is being forged.

And then—like a breath after drowning—stillness.

The storm subsided. The energy around him calmed into an ordered swirl, like a galaxy forming around a star. But the cocoon remained—a radiant shell of compressed mana still shielding him from the outside world. Colors danced along its surface. The walls rippled like oil on glass, hiding everything beyond.

Then—a soundless chime. A screen appeared. Clear. Blue. Weightless. Floating before him like it had always been waiting.

[Connection Established: Cosmic System]

Identifier: Leon

Synchronization: 100%

Welcome, Seeker.

His eyes widened, heart thudding. Not a local system. Not regional. Cosmic. Universal. Something so much bigger than the trials of one continent.

Is this the system Master talked about? Or something beyond?

He tried to read more—tried to ask what he had become—but no further data came. Not yet.

The system acknowledged him. And now it watched. Waiting for him to stand. Waiting for what came next.

Leon exhaled shakily. Blood still clung to his lips. His body ached in places he didn’t even know could ache.

But he was standing. Inside the cocoon. Alive. Changed. Seen.

What am I now? What did I just become?

And just outside the cocoon... something waited with a hammer. Something ready to test the answer.

Inside the cocoon, the light dimmed just enough for Leon to finally see himself. And what he saw—didn’t look like a ten-year-old anymore.

He was still him. Still Leon. But different.

Taller. Leaner. Stronger. His body had been rebuilt—not with bulk, but with purpose. Every inch of him felt like it had been tempered like a blade. No wasted mass. No weakness. Just raw, balanced potential.

His muscles tensed under new skin that shimmered faintly in the elemental glow, like threads of magic had stitched him together from inside out.

His hair had grown too. Once short and boyish—now long, silver-white strands that fell just past his shoulders. They caught the shifting light of the cocoon like flowing steel.

Leon stared at his hand. Then slowly curled it into a fist.

Crack

Power pulsed through his knuckles. Not the borrowed kind. Not the subtle kind. His. Pure and whole.

His lips parted, and he breathed in—and that was when he felt it.

Not just his body. Not just his strength.

The world.

He could feel the elements around him. Not faint whispers—but clear, distinct presences.

Fire like a heartbeat in the air.

Wind like laughter circling his skin.

Earth, cold and grounding.

Water, distant but calm.

Lightning, coiled and hungry.

Even stranger ones—echoes of metal, of shadow, of heatless light.

It was like discovering color after living in grayscale.

And inside him?

Mana. Not drifting in the air. Not leaking from a treasure. But flowing. Real.

This... is what it feels like. This is what I’ve been waiting for.

Mana filled every inch of him—warm, reactive, alive. For the first time since arriving in this world—Leon had mana of his own.

Not a cheat. Not a crutch.

And now... he was ready.

The awe didn’t last. Because the next thing Leon noticed was—he was completely naked.

”...”

He looked down slowly.

”You got to be kidding me...”

The moment of enlightenment shattered like cheap glass. He was standing stark naked inside the glowing cocoon. Hair flowing like a mythical swordsman. Muscles refined by cosmic torture. And zero clothes.

Of course the divine orb would forget modesty. Cosmic glowstick of betrayal.

He spun around, half-expecting to find at least his daggers lying nearby—nothing. Panic prickled up his spine.

Wait—wait—where’s my stuff?

His hands flicked instinctively toward his soulspace, calling forth the inventory bound to his soul—

Ping

The screen blinked open.

All seven treasures: intact. The daggers. The cloak. The boots. The soup spoon. The ring. The hourglass. Even the cursedly silent blade. All there along with his other items, like the clothes and armor he was wearing.

He exhaled hard.

”Okay. Okay. Crisis averted.”

He flicked his fingers and summoned a pair of plain underclothes from the corner of the inventory. No one else could see him in here—but still. There were limits.

He tugged them on quickly, then paused. He summoned the light armor next. Stared at it. Held it up.

Yeah.

That’s not a chest plate anymore. That’s a crop top.

With a sigh, he banished the armor and instead pulled out the Cloak of Mild Invisibility, tossing it over his shoulders. It draped a little better now, still roomy but passable—like some rogue-mage hybrid who couldn’t afford full clothes.

Lastly he wore his comfortable boots.

”Great. I look like I escaped from both a training arc and a laundry basket.”

But at least he was covered.

His gaze turned back to the glowing cocoon around him. Still intact. Still humming.

Almost done.

He adjusted the cloak—just to feel grounded—and let his breathing steady.

Now clothed. Armed. Connected to the elements. And for the first time since entering this trial—in control.