Concealable Level 4 Body Armor Novels & Stories

David found a relatively secluded place in the forest beside the public road. He casually arranged an array to hide his body and then entered The Spirit Cage through the system. In fact, with his current Ancient level 10 Body, even if he did not set up an array, no one could harm him even if he was discovered. This was only Level 4 civilization Boundless Galaxy's Planet Brechen. Even the top powerhouses in the Boundless Galaxy could not do anything to David's body.

And I never dirtied my own hands unless it was necessary… or entertaining. I took another slow drag from my cigar and exhaled. “Get to work,” I said quietly. The men scattered like startled insects. I walked deeper into the facility, my polished shoes clicking against the concrete floor. Rows of half-assembled rifles lined one wall. Crates of body armor — lightweight, bullet-resistant, custom-fitted — waited on the other. In the far corner, a small team carefully mixed chemicals that could stop a heart without leaving obvious traces. Everything here served a purpose.

Its balance was perfect. "Yes, Your Highness. Small, light, but their tips are needle-like. They'll pierce right through the gaps in armor," the old man nodded. Beside them lay her new outfit. Not a ball gown, nor the stiff leather armor she wore during the hunt. It was made of a deep midnight-black, finely woven fabric that clung to the body like a second skin, yet allowed room for movement. The trick lay in the lining: hidden, magnetically secured sheaths were placed at the hips, the inner thighs, and the wrists. Six movements, six lethal thrusts, and the world would see nothing but an elegant woman.

POV: Callum | Deepest sublevel, ancient asylum room The shields Fell has built around himself and the chamber are the layered kind, three deep, the outer one a pressure barrier and the second one a heat dispersion field and the third one something older and more specific that I cannot categorize from the outside but which has the quality of a ward keyed to a particular kind of energy, and I have been standing at the edge of the outer shield for four minutes understanding the geometry of them and understanding that the gun in my hand is not useless but is also not simple.

The temperature was kept deliberately low, a biting, crisp chill that helped soothe the volatile, feverish internal body heat of the high-ranked Lycans occupying the space. Aria stood frozen beside the massive central console, her fingers resting lightly against the cold lip of the obsidian table. The tactical gear she wore was a second skin of matte-black leather and reinforced ballistic polymer, tailored so precisely that it hummed against her skin with every rise and fall of her chest. It was devoid of any reflective surfaces, designed to absorb light and sound in equal measure. Her long, dark hair was braided tightly down her spine, a severe style that accentuated the sharp, aristocratic