Earth's SSS Pornstar to SSS Combat God in Another World-Chapter 46: Built-in Armor Acquired

Jonas had lost his wife to illness, so when he finally saw Walter standing in front of him, breathing, whole enough to argue, something in him snapped loose.

He pulled his son into a crushing hug and sobbed into his shoulder.

"I thought I fucking lost you," he said, manners forgotten. "The Pinnaclers above have eyes indeed."

Martin stood close, eyes watering despite himself. He had changed Walter’s swaddling cloth when the boy was small enough to fit in one arm.

In the quiet corners of his heart, Walter had always been a son too.

When the warmth eased, Jonas drew back and forced his face into seriousness.

"Now tell me how it started. From the beginning."

Walter did not embellish. He told it like a merchant counting coin, accurate and plain.

The chef who laced his food, and Joji catching it before the first bite mattered.

Simon turning on the guards, blades in the dark, and the long chase that stole an entire night.

He spoke of the enemy hidden deeper, the one called Fourteen, steel and purpose moving where no steel should.

Even Martin went still at that. His eyes hardened as if trying to decide whether to believe it.

Jonas looked the same, disbelief fighting with the fact that his son was alive and not prone to fantasies.

Walter rushed past the parts that could be laughed at, yet could not stop himself from mentioning the boar king and the rotten tree.

Jonas and Martin exchanged a look that could not decide whether to laugh or cry.

Then Walter, a single man and still a man, described the witch.

He lifted his arms and tried to show the shape of her in the air, earnest and flustered.

"Such voluptuousness exists," Jonas muttered, half scandalized, half impressed.

Walter returned to what mattered. The ambush on the road near home.

Joji carrying him on his back without complaint, sprinting like a beast with a man clinging to him.

Martin’s voice came low with respect.

"Men like that do not come along often in a man’s life," the butler said. "I hope you see it, Young Master Walter."

Jonas nodded, eyes soft with an old memory.

"Truly. Like you and I back then, Martin."

Jonas straightened, the master of the house returning in full.

"Get Walter dressed," Jonas said. "Prepare clothes for our guests. If they are on a secret mission like you say, we keep it that way."

"No retelling outside this room. We do not invite trouble from forces that can afford steel men."

Walter and Martin both agreed at once. Some things belonged behind stone doors.

Outside, Joji and his party waited near the gate. Knights did not wander another man’s estate like they owned it.

Kobto, Kobluk, and Lilina kept turning their heads toward the Depth Salamander and the busy hands around it, and Alaric gave them sharp reprimands until they stopped gawking.

After half an hour, Walter returned without the ogre skin.

He wore snow white clothes that flowed like a court banner, ruffled cravat, fitted waistcoat, tailored trousers, and coat tails lined with soft blue silk.

"Come," Walter said, voice steadier now. "Let’s go inside."

The mercenaries glanced at them briefly, then their eyes drifted back to the donkey in pants like that was still the strangest part of the night.

Joveric finally eased, resting his sword by the patio as he leaned against a wall.

"No extra pay, I guess," he murmured, almost disappointed.

Maids guided Joji and his party to rooms that felt too large for simple guests.

One was spacious enough for a family of three, with a tub in the corner still steaming and a folded set of clothes waiting on a chair.

Not as fine as Walter’s, but good. The sort a well off commoner might wear without shame.

Joji understood the message. The Cutler household had heard enough to be careful, and careful was a kind of gratitude.

He cleaned himself twice with a wet towel, then sank into the hot water and let the heat bite the road out of his bones.

"I should make soap," he muttered. "This water feels like it cleans nothing."

A knock came.

"May I come in?" a sweet voice asked.

Joji recognized the custom.

"Come in," he said.

The maid entered and froze when she saw him. Joji was a large man, and she was small, delicate, just into the age where marriage stopped being a distant idea.

"Lord, please forgive my bearing," she said, breath unsteady. "I. I have not done this before."

Joji waved it off.

"I will not lay hands on you. I have a request and you will do as I say."

She nodded so fast it made her hair swing.

A few minutes later, she was soaking her legs in a bucket of water mixed with vinegar, nearly knee deep, eyes wide with confusion.

"Lord, what is this for?" she asked.

Joji only gave calm instructions. The tub and bucket were removed.

The room became quiet. He lay face down on the bed.

"Step on my back," he said. "Slowly."

She stared at him like she had misheard. Then she obeyed, careful, placing her weight bit by bit.

Joji guided her with small words, where to press, when to shift, when to ease off.

His back popped now and then, each release loosening a tight knot of travel and fighting.

Joji knew Alaric would be offered the same, and he knew the man would reject it outright.

That was part of why Joji kept the maid occupied with harmless work.

He accepted because refusing a house’s hospitality could read like calling the house tasteless.

When the maid finally left, her cheeks were flushed and her hair stuck to her forehead.

She looked like she had worked, not like she had been harmed.

Other maids peered from the corridor and rushed to her as if she carried a story.

"You had it hard," one whispered.

"Was it big or was it small?" another asked, vulgar curiosity pushing at the question.

A third sighed like envy.

"If he favors you, you might end up his wife. Goodbye to maid life then."

Joji heard the gossip through the door and smiled wryly. People built whole romances out of a sore back and a flushed servant.

He rose, locked the door, and turned to what he had truly come for.

He set the jar on the table and took out the stomach of the mineral armadillo.

Even with his old training, it unsettled him. At first glance it looked ulcered, dotted with angry red.

Closer, each dot was a tiny sack holding a different substance, as if the organ carried its own pantry of acids and minerals, altering itself as needed.

’Definitely fantasy world only,’ he thought.

Then he swallowed it.

The texture was rubbery and stubborn. It took time to force down.

He drained an entire pitcher of water before the last of it slid into his gut.

Pain arrived a breath later. A deep stomach ache that made him hunch.

Then his skin began to itch like it was crawling with invisible ants. Colors flashed under his flesh.

Hair loosened and fell, even the fine strands he did not think about, brows, nose, everywhere.

Plates started to form across him, faint ridges rising like armor trying to be born.

Then his body fought back, the same way it had with the demon heart.

The plates shivered and sank, absorbed through his skin as if the flesh refused to wear anything but his skin of a man.

Still, something had changed.

Joji touched his eyebrow and tried to pluck a hair free. It did not budge.

He pulled harder, like a man yanking a weed from hard ground. Nothing.

He stopped guessing and opened the status window.

{Name: Joji of Sins Crossroad}

{Constitution: Embryonic Storm Bringer}

{Age: 21}

{First Job: Rank-3 Knight}

{Second Job: See Available}

{Aura: 13.8}

{Mana: 17.1}

{Brawn: 8.8}

{Quickness: 8.6}

{Wisdom: 20.4}

{Stamina: 19.4}

{Charisma: 18.9}

{Fortune: 28.5}

{BODY AUGMENTATIONS}

{Eyes} {Rank: C}

{Cave Ogre Eyes - To see through night and darkness as though it were noon-day.}

{Regeneration} {Rank: D}

{Runt Troll Regeneration - To regenerate wounds and, in some measure, to heal even the vital organs.}

{Imp Demon Heart} {Rank: E}

{Assimilated by the Embryonic Storm Bringer. Your body is now extremely attuned to use mana.}

{(NEW) Mineral Armadillo Armor} {Growth Type} {Current Rank: E}

{Assimilated by the Embryonic Storm Bringer. Your body can now grow armor by consuming different metals.}

{A new instinctive trait has been added. You can summon your body armor. This consumes both mana and aura when extended and retracted.}

{To repair your armor, consume more minerals. The changes will be visible.}

{PROGRESS OF TRAINING AND ARTS}

{Fundamental Level of Swordsmanship}

{Measure of Proficiency: 67.6%} (⇧ 0.1)

{Intermediate Level of Swordsmanship}

{Measure of Proficiency: 12.6%} (⇧ 0.1)

{Fundamental Level of Close Combat}

{Measure of Proficiency: 14.1%}

{Everhart Tempest Arts Series: 3/10} {Rank: S}

{Lightness of the Wind Art}

{Measure of Proficiency: 9.6%} (⇧ 0.1)

{Emerald Blade Wind Art}

{Measure of Proficiency: 9.1%} (⇧ 0.1)

{Protectorate Barrier Wind Arts}

{Measure of Proficiency: 7.9%}

{TITLES AND ACHIEVEMENTS}

{Everyman - Can do, learn, and master pretty much any kind of job.}

{A Passive Skill Borne Forward from Your Former Life.}

Joji tried it out at once. White armor slid out of his whole body with a faint shimmer, bright as teeth in torchlight.

It did not look forged. It looked grown, plates blooming from flesh as if his body had decided to become a weapon.

He rapped his knuckles against it and felt the answer in the sting. Tough. Dense.

He willed it back. The armor sank into him again, smooth as water disappearing into sand.

Joji touched his bare skin. Soft. Normal. No ridges. No heat. No swelling underneath, as if nothing had happened at all.

He wanted to ask the system how it worked. He did not.

Questions had a way of being priced, and sometimes the price was the kind you paid later.

So he tested instead.

Again and again he summoned it and retracted it, feeling how the plates responded.

Through touch alone he learned he could mold it. A little more here, a little less there.

A ridge on the forearm. A thicker plate over the ribs. He pushed the shape like clay, not with hands, with intention.

Then he started designing.

Joji built for movement first, then for coverage.

He pictured the gaps that got men killed, the places blades found, the angles arrows loved.

Every attempt taught him something. He adjusted. He tried again.

Time slipped. He lost count somewhere after the hundredth summon.

His head grew light. His limbs felt hollow. Mana and aura had been spent in small bites until he was bottomed out.

When he finally looked up, dawn had already climbed the window, sunlight laying pale bars across the floor.

Joji sat there, breathing slow, sweat cooling on his skin, and a grin tugged at his mouth despite the ache in him.

The armor was good. Better than good. And the possibilities made him feel dangerous.