SSS-Ranked Surgeon In Another World: The Healer Is Actually OP!

Meanwhile, Ash sat upright beside the roasting frame with impeccable posture, like a massive, overgrown cat pretending to be dignified. Its tail flicked lazily, flames swirling around its fangs as it controlled the heat with surprising delicacy.

For a creature capable of ripping beasts apart in seconds, Ash roasted meat with the gentleness of a seasoned chef.

Bruce rotated the spit slowly, seasoning each batch with calm, practiced precision. His hands moved with the ease of someone who had cooked in rain-soaked battlefields and blood-scented campsites far too many times.

Ash, meanwhile, drooled openly, a glistening stream dripping from the corner of its maw.

Bruce smirked. “Control yourself. We just started.”

Ash snorted indignantly and released a puff of flame that flared a bit too close to the meat.

Bruce tapped its snout lightly with Red’s handle. “Hey. Behave.”

Ash snapped into a stiff posture instantly, head high, wings tucked, expression attempting regal serenity. The illusion lasted only until another droplet of drool plopped into the snow.

Bruce chuckled and returned to roasting. The meat crackled beautifully, filling the frozen air with a deep, irresistible aroma, smoky, savory, touched by sweet undertones from mana-rich herbs.

The scent drifted outward, so sharp and rich it could probably make even hostile beasts forget their instincts.

With Bruce’s aura still unleashed, the snowfield remained eerily silent. He could feel the direwolves pacing at the edge of his range, sniffing the air, trembling under the crushing dominance radiating from him. None dared approach.

“Good,” Bruce murmured. “We have time.”

Ash chirped in agreement, a surprisingly cute sound for a fifteen-meter dragon. Bruce glanced sideways. “You really love this, don’t you?” Ash nodded vigorously, tail thumping the ground in rhythmic excitement.

They devoured the first rack of meat in record time. Bruce tore into his portion calmly, savoring the mana-rich tenderness. Ash swallowed entire slabs whole, releasing deep, thunderous rumbles of pleasure.

Their movements fell into an unspoken rhythm, Bruce preparing a new slab, Ash providing a controlled wave of flame, Bruce adjusting seasons, Ash waiting impatiently. The kind of seamless coordination that looked like a ritual they’d practiced for years.

Bruce exhaled contentedly. If Bale ever saw this, Bruce Ackerman roasting meat in an S-Rank dungeon with a dragon like it was a picnic, the old man would probably faint. Or scream. Or retire on the spot.

Bruce smirked at the thought.

Ash nudged him gently, pushing a particularly large slab toward the fire with its snout. Bruce stared at the meat, then at Ash’s wagging tail.

“You want more already?” Ash nodded, enthusiasm barely contained. Bruce shook his head with a resigned smile. “Alright. But if more wolves interrupt this meal, you know what to do.”

Ash’s eyes gleamed, flames flickering between its fangs like anticipation incarnate.

Bruce’s smile widened slightly.

If they dare interrupt, Ash would be extremely angry.

Bruce smiled, his gaze drifting into the storm. His aura pulsed outward in a cold wave, an unspoken warning that carved a circle of sheer dominance through the blizzard. Any beast with surviving instincts would stay away.

But if they didn’t?

Bruce rested one elbow on his knee, casually turning the spit.

’I really shouldn’t,’ he thought, amused. But I’m low-key curious… just how scary Ash would get when someone ruins his meal, it should be safe since S-Ranks are strangely rare in this outer past of the dungeon.’

Ash rumbled softly, a promise of violence vibrating beneath its scales.

They roasted. They ate. They communicated without words, a strange, almost ridiculous harmony between man and dragon. And yet, it was peaceful. Warm, even.

The kind of peace only warriors found in the middle of chaos.

Bruce couldn’t help but wonder, if Bale ever discovered this scene, he might have a heart attack from the shock alone.

Probably.

Right now, though, it was just Bruce, Ash, fire, meat… and the quiet before the next wave of enemies dared approach.

But the quiet didn’t last.

The aroma of the roast drifted through the blizzard in warm, savory currents, so thick, so impossibly enticing that even the beasts hiding at the fringes of Bruce’s aura could no longer suppress their instincts. Hunger overrode fear. Curiosity overrode caution. One by one, shadows moved through the storm, jaws dripping, eyes glowing with predatory longing.

They stepped into view.

Ash’s head snapped toward them instantly. The golden glow in its eyes hardened into molten rage.

A low, rumbling growl vibrated through the snow, then erupted into a roar that split the storm in half.

The first wolf lunged.

It died before its paws touched the ground again.

Ash moved like a mass of black lightning. One swipe cleaved through three direwolves at once. A burst of dragon flame incinerated two more. A tail strike sent another crashing into a distant iceberg so violently that the ice cracked down its center. Bones shattered. Snow erupted upward in red-tinted plumes.

They tried to encircle the dragon. Ash tore through them before they even realized their mistake.

Bodies thudded into the snow in rapid succession. Snarls turned to whimpers. Whimpers turned to silence.

It wasn’t a battle. It was an extermination.

Ash finished the last beast by stomping its skull flat, then, without hesitation, turned around and trotted back to the roasting stand like a child returning to a picnic after chasing away a few noisy birds.

Bruce didn’t even look up from the spit. “Welcome back.”

Ash sat primly beside him again, pretending nothing had happened. Only the blood dripping from its claws betrayed the carnage it had left behind.

They continued eating in peace, finishing the final cuts of meat until nothing but bones and steam remained. Bruce stored the roasting stand with casual efficiency, Ash licking its teeth clean with smug contentment.

When they were done, they moved onward, deeper into the dungeon’s heart.

They killed more and more beast groups while on the way.

The storm thinned gradually as they walked, the icy wind softening, the air shifting. Bruce noticed it first, the temperature change, the stillness, the faint hum in the atmosphere.

Then they saw it.

A wall.

A massive, transparent barrier stretching endlessly to the left and right, towering so high it vanished into the storm above. It looked like glass, but the mana flowing through it was far more ancient and structured, like a boundary between two worlds.