SSS Ranked Awakening: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Once inside the city, Ira and Seraphine immediately took the lead, pulling ahead with the energy of two people who had found their element and had no intention of slowing down for anyone.

Leon and Vyra fell into step behind them at a more measured pace, watching the two ahead navigate stalls and crowds with entirely different styles — Seraphine precise and deliberate in what caught her attention, Ira practically vibrating, her head turning every few seconds toward something new that demanded her immediate focus before something else demanded it faster.

They’d stopped at a clothing stall earlier, then a jewelry vendor, both choices driven by Seraphine and Ira with the unified conviction of people who had spotted something they wanted and considered the matter already decided. Leon had paid without complaint; he was too rich, which was the correct response.

He’d put the bracelet on Ira himself — her choice, a delicate thing with small stones that caught light when she moved her wrist. And the ring on Seraphine — her choice too, simple, understated, exactly her. Both times, he’d put them on directly rather than handing the items over, and neither of them had objected to that.

Vyra had received her piece differently.

Ira had spotted the necklace at the stall, picked it up without hesitation, and handed it to her aunt with the cheerful authority of someone who had decided this was happening and saw no reason to discuss it further. Vyra had accepted it with the expression of someone exercising considerable restraint, held it in her hand as they walked, and said nothing about whether she wanted it or not.

Leon watched this from beside her and waited approximately two minutes before using the telepathic channel they shared.

I’m sorry for dragging you into all this, Vyra. You’re probably not enjoying these childish things.

Why does he call her Vyra now, not Archon Vyra as he used to before? It was because she was the one who told him to do so, as she found it awkward that way, when he was so much stronger than her, so he should rather just call her by her name, and Leon accepted it without hesitation.

Her steps didn’t change. Her expression didn’t change. But he felt the slight internal adjustment of someone who had been caught off guard by the direction of a question.

It’s nothing, Leon. Don’t mind me. Let them enjoy themselves.

Should I give the necklace to Ira then? He replied. She picked it out. You’ve been holding it since the stall — if it’s just politeness, I don’t want you carrying something you don’t actually want. She’d love it if I handed it to her, you know how she is, don’t you?

Vyra’s stride went slightly rigid.

Just slightly. The kind of change that only registered if you were already paying attention to her, which Leon was.

She knew she wanted to keep it. She’d known since the moment Ira pressed it into her hands, actually — there was something about it that had caught her attention at the stall before Ira even reached for it, which was perhaps why Ira had reached for it in the first place. But saying that out loud felt like more than she wanted to give away, and the position she’d arrived at by saying nothing was now becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

I’m not being polite, she said through the connection.

Then why aren’t you wearing it?

She had no immediate answer for that.

Leon reached over and took the necklace from her hand while they were walking, the motion easy and without announcement. She let him take it — partly because she hadn’t anticipated it and partly because some part of her had already understood where this was going.

He looked at her directly while walking, the necklace in his hand, his expression carrying the specific quality of someone who was enjoying themselves and not particularly hiding it.

She looked back at him. Her eyes moved to the necklace in his hand and then back to his face, the message in her expression clear enough without words: it’s in your hand, not mine, so how exactly am I supposed to wear it?

He waited.

She understood then what he was waiting for.

The blush that moved across her red skin was subtle — barely visible given her natural coloring — but it was there, and Leon caught it without effort. The understanding of what he intended had arrived cleanly, and it had brought something else with it that she hadn’t been expecting.

The armor. The mountain. getting naked in front of him like it was nothing, ahh, she even let him personally put it on, now it feels so obscene and embarrassing to her.

The memory arrived with the specific, mortifying clarity that certain memories had when they chose to resurface at inconvenient moments. She’d treated him like a Pyran — operated under the comfortable assumption that the rules of her own culture applied, that nothing about the interaction required any particular consideration. He was human. She knew how human lovers consummated, what was considered private, and what wasn’t. She’d understood all of that long before she met him.

And she’d still did all that shameful thing because she was thinking too clearly.

She hadn’t mentioned it afterward because mentioning it would have required revisiting it, which she had no intention of doing. She’d noticed that he hadn’t said anything either, which she had feelings about — though whether those feelings were primarily irritation at him for not stopping her or embarrassment at herself for not thinking was something she preferred not to examine too closely.

Pervert, she thought, with more exasperation than genuine accusation.

She shot him a brief glare — minimal, controlled — then walked forward a step and turned around in front of him, presenting her back, because if this was happening, she wanted it done quickly before the memory had more time to make itself comfortable in her present awareness.

He put the necklace on.

His hands were steady and efficient, the clasp catching without fumbling, and then it was done. She turned back around.

It suits you, he said through the connection.

She averted her gaze and said nothing, settling into a mild, dignified sulk that she felt was entirely warranted given the circumstances. She couldn’t actually do anything about any of this — he was considerably beyond her reach in terms of strength, and she’d already dedicated herself to him and to his world, which removed most of the leverage a person might otherwise have in this kind of situation. Sulking was what remained available, and she intended to use it.

She was also aware, with the self-honesty that centuries of leadership had enforced on her, that she’d gotten naked in front of him on that mountain without any real hesitation. Not because Pyran custom had overridden her awareness of human norms, though she’d told herself that in the moment. But because somewhere in the time between him saving her world and standing beside her on that mountain, she’d categorized him as someone she didn’t need to guard herself around in that particular way.

She was jealous of Ira. She knew that too, and had known it for a while. Not bitterly — it wasn’t corrosive — but it was there, a quiet awareness that the thing Ira had access to was something she’d noticed herself wanting: strength, virtue, kindness, and looks, even she can’t refuse them all.

The corner of her mouth curved slightly without her permission.

She straightened it before anyone could see.

They were out of the city when Seraphine noticed.

Her eyes went to the necklace first, then to the specific quality of the atmosphere between Leon and Vyra — the kind of charged quiet that had a texture to it if you knew what to look for. Her eyes narrowed by a fraction.

She didn’t say anything.

A thought moved through her mind that she didn’t examine for too long before dismissing it, though it took a second attempt to fully dismiss it. She filed Vyra under the category of someone who was genuinely worthy: no ulterior motives, no performance, everything she was visible and straightforward. That was the only standard Seraphine applied, and Vyra had cleared it without apparent effort.

She turned her head away and said nothing. Let things develop as they developed.

If not for his absurd stamina, she thought her violet eyes swirling dangerously, I’d have him entirely to myself.

Somewhere behind her, Leon experienced a sudden, sourceless chill — the distinct sensation of having narrowly avoided something he couldn’t identify.

The city fell behind them. Then more cities. Villages between them, the landscape shifting as they moved. Monster attacks on the outskirts of two villages — weak, scattered, the kind of threat that cleared itself before Leon had finished assessing it. Ira had handled most of them with enthusiasm that was somewhat disproportionate to the danger involved, moving through the monsters as they’d personally offended her.

They’d collected small gifts from grateful villagers, which Leon stored without comment.

Then, on the road ahead, something brought all four of them to a complete stop.