SSS Ranked Awakening: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Leon pulled it down, sliding it over her body. The material was tight, designed to compress against the wearer’s form. He had to apply a bit of force to get it past her shoulders.

He could see her breasts getting squeezed by the pressure. The fabric stretched, her nipples pushing against the dark material, their outline clear and unmistakable. It was a miracle the suit didn’t burst open. Those were big. Full and heavy, straining against the flexible but sturdy weave.

Leon kept his face neutral. He didn’t look at her directly. But he saw. He saw everything.

He connected the two halves of the suit, the waist piece clicking into place, making the upper and lower sections look seamless. Like one body suit, not two separate pieces. The transition was smooth, almost invisible.

”Good,” he said, his voice flat.

In his mind, the word was different.

Pity.

It was a pity he could see those seductive curves through the suit but couldn’t touch them. Still, she looked great. The suit hugged every line, every contour. She looked ready. She looked dangerous.

Vyra took a deep breath and did the same with her own suit, pulling it on with practiced ease. She moved around a bit, testing the flexibility. She twisted her torso, raised her arms, bent at the waist.

The jiggle her breasts had before was gone. The suit held them firm, compressed against her chest.

Leon felt a small pang of regret. He shook it off.

”Now the chest plate,” he said.

He picked up the armor piece. It was designed to go over the body suit, covering her breasts and the upper part of her torso. A two-piece set that connected at the sides. The metal was polished, etched with faint runes that glowed when touched by wind mana.

Leon swallowed. A big gulp. He hoped she didn’t notice.

Vyra was waiting. She stood still, her arms at her sides, her expression calm. She trusted him. She thought he was just teaching her. Just helping her gear up.

He controlled himself.

He raised his hand and used his wind element. The air around him hummed as mana gathered, invisible threads of power wrapping around the back piece of the chest plate. He lifted it, positioned it against her spine, and pressed it into place. The armor clicked, locking onto the body suit’s connectors.

For the front piece, he did it himself.

He aligned the armor with her body. With her breasts. He positioned the curved metal so it would sit flush against the contours of her chest. He adjusted it, his hands hovering close, not quite touching.

”Is the pressure alright?” he asked.

She nodded.

”And the tightness? Too much?”

”No,” she said softly. ”It’s fine.”

He pushed it forward slowly. The armor pressed against her body suit, compressing the material underneath. His hands were over both of her breasts, applying pressure to seat the piece properly. There was armor between them, a layer of metal and padding, but he could still feel the shape of her beneath.

He asked her along the way if she was comfortable. If the pressure was too tight. If she needed adjustment.

Why didn’t he let the wind element do the front piece too?

In his mind, the answer came easily: I need to make sure she’s comfortable. The wind can’t feel the fit. Only hands can.

Only he knew how true that was.

Very true.

She told him the pressure was right. He connected the side locks. The armor sealed into place, the runes glowing once before fading.

His hands lingered for a moment longer than necessary.

Then he pulled them back.

She moved around again. Twisted. Bent. Raised her arms. The armor shifted with her, perfectly fitted.

”Shoulder guards,” he said.

She nodded. He attached them quickly. They clicked into place, covering the joint between the chest plate and the body suit.

”Now the forearm guards,” Leon said.

He stretched his hand out in front of her. He expected her to give him her right hand, the same way she had for everything else. He was ready to guide the armor onto her arm, to lock it into place, to finish the process.

But the hand didn’t arrive.

He looked at her face.

There was a hint of hesitation in her red eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, a faint red creeping up from her neck. Her lips were pressed together, a mix of embarrassment and nervousness.

Leon almost cursed in his mind.

Seriously?

She was hesitating now? After she had let him do all that? After he had pressed her breasts, adjusted her armor, seen every outline of her body beneath the suit? After she had put on a show for him with every piece of equipment?

Touching her hand was child’s play compared to what he had already done.

But he understood.

Pyrahahn culture. He knew how her mind was working. In her people’s traditions, holding hands with the opposite sex was a sacred act. Intimate. It was how they conceived. How they gave each other pleasure. Through that weird method Ira had taught him months ago.

To Vyra, offering her hand to a man who wasn’t her husband was a big deal.

He understood her thinking completely.

He didn’t scold her. He didn’t make it awkward. She had even a slight blush on her face while hesitating, her eyes darting away from his.

She looked cute.

”It’s fine,” he said, keeping his voice calm. ”The armor goes on the forearms. I won’t touch your hands.”

Her whole body jerked up. As if he had said something lewd. As if the word hand was a curse.

She responded with a meek, ”Okay.”

Her head moved in approval, a small nod. Then she put both of her hands out in front of him at the same time. Her eyes were almost shut, like she was bracing for something. Like she was scared.

Leon found it funny. Adorable even.

But he didn’t show it on his face.

He kept his expression neutral, professional. He carefully held her wrist—just her wrist, nothing more—and slipped the first forearm guard into place. Then the second. His fingers moved quickly, efficiently. He didn’t touch her palm. He didn’t let his fingers stray near her fingers.

He was done in seconds.

Vyra pulled her hands back as if his had been on fire. Her hands were almost shaking. She held them close to her chest, her fingers curling inward.

His hands had been so close. Inches away. They had almost connected at least twice.

If her niece knew about this...

How could she show her face in front of her?

She swallowed. Took a breath. Then she spoke, her voice small and soft.

”Leon.”

He looked at her.

”Please... don’t tell anyone else about this.” She paused. ”About this.”

This. The act of putting on the last forearm guard. The near-touch. The hesitation. The embarrassment.

He understood.

Leon smiled. A full smile, warm and genuine.

”You too,” he said. ”It’s a promise. We don’t share this with anyone. Okay?”

She looked at him. Her golden eyes searched his face, looking for deception, for mockery. She found none.

She felt relieved.

She trusted his promise. She understood why he had done it that way. He was so understanding. So caring. He had respected her culture, her boundaries, without making her feel foolish.

Her niece was really lucky.

Leon felt blessed. A smile still on his face, he looked at her.

”Get ready. We’re going to meet the others.”

She nodded.

And the next second, both of them vanished from their spot.

Only the unconscious dragon remained, sleeping on the mountain, unaware that it had just witnessed something far more intimate than a simple armor fitting.