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

Meanwhile, Bruce didn’t reduce his speed.

He forwarded the coordinates directly to the map on his smart bracelet, the holographic display expanding instantly as his surroundings blurred past. The moment the marker locked into place, recognition followed. He had identified the portal with the coordinates Varek gave him…

’This is it.’

Without hesitation, he adjusted his trajectory and surged forward.

The terrain warped as he crossed the final stretch, he saw the portal and in the next heartbeat, he entered the dungeon zone.

The air changed immediately.

Cold.

Stagnant.

Mana here felt wrong, thin in some places, oppressive in others, like something had scraped life out of it and left only residue behind.

Bruce slowed just enough to take in the scene before him.

Skeletons.

Dozens of them.

Undead beasts clad in fractured bone armor, wielding crude daggers and jagged weapons fashioned from beast remains. They clustered together in unnatural stillness, bodies twitching erratically as hollow mana circulated through their frames. Bone scraped against bone as they moved, producing unsettling, hollow sounds that echoed through the area like something being dragged across stone.

Bruce frowned.

The skeletons noticed him.

Empty eye sockets flared faintly as they let out distorted, hollow cries and surged toward him all at once, jerky, uncoordinated, yet relentless.

Bruce released his SS aura.

It rolled outward in a crushing wave, dominance and pressure slamming into the undead horde.

But they didn’t stop.

They didn’t hesitate.

They kept coming.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

’Strange.’

Not only was it strange that they were not affected by his SS Aura fear inducing effects. His Life Glance title should have affected undead entities, suppression at the very least. Resistance like this didn’t make sense.

’Vaelith,’ Bruce thought calmly. ’Do you have any idea what’s going on?’

The response came instantly.

[It is impossible for undead of this level to resist your authority unless they are being controlled, either through enslavement or summoning, by an existence of similar or greater level than yours.]

Bruce’s gaze shifted.

Less than a meter. The skeletons were already within striking distance.

He sighed. “I really don’t have time for this.”

He wasn’t about to fight these fodders himself, and since they possessed no blood, using red would have no benefit, they would just be a waste of time for him.

The next second, he willed it.

His shadow rippled.

Then exploded.

Darkness peeled itself off the ground as massive figures surged forth, leaping out of his shadow one after another. SS Ranked Shadow Wolves emerged in silence, each one at least two meters tall, bodies sleek and perfectly honed for slaughter. Their forms were slender yet dense with power, long claws glinting with a black sheen that drank in the surrounding light.

Their maws opened slightly, revealing rows of razor sharp teeth.

A shadowy black aura rolled off them in waves, heavy and suffocating.

They moved with terrifying speed, blurring into black streaks as they spread out, positioning themselves with flawless coordination. In seconds, they had formed a compact formation before Bruce, an army born of shadow, still and obedient.

Majestic.

Lethal.

Absolute.

Bruce’s voice came from behind them, calm and cold. “Clear the way.”

The air itself seemed to recoil.

And the undead horde had just been given its sentence.

In an instant, the shadow wolves growled.

Then they launched forward.

The ground cracked beneath their paws as they surged ahead like a black tide, their movements so fast they blurred into streaks of darkness. Claws flashed and entire clusters of undead were torn apart in a single motion. Bone shattered. Weapons flew. Skeletons were ripped cleanly in half, reduced to scattered fragments before they even registered what had hit them.

Less than a second passed.

More than five hundred undead skeletons collapsed into piles of broken bones.

There was no struggle.

No resistance.

The shadow wolves moved through them as if tearing through dry biscuits, their claws cleaving through rib cages, skulls, and spines with brutal efficiency. Each strike carried overwhelming force, pulverizing bone into dust or sending fragments skidding across the dungeon floor.

Bruce advanced with them, unhurried.

He walked forward calmly, hands relaxed at his sides, as the wolves formed a moving wall of destruction ahead of him. Wherever they passed, the undead ceased to exist. Their formation shifted seamlessly, some wolves lunged ahead, others flanked, while a few stayed closer, cutting down anything that tried to slip through.

The hollow screeches of the undead were drowned out almost instantly.

The wolves didn’t roar.

They didn’t howl.

They simply killed.

Wave after wave of skeletons rushed forward, mindless and relentless, but every charge ended the same way. Claws tore through them. Bodies exploded into fragments. The dungeon floor became littered with shattered bones, crushed skulls, and broken weapons.

Bruce’s pace never changed.

Then, something shifted.

As he moved past the wreckage, his senses picked up subtle movement behind him.

The bones.

Fragments that had been scattered moments ago began to tremble. Fingers twitched. Vertebrae slid across the ground. Skulls rolled back into place as unseen forces pulled them together.

Bone reconnected to bone.

Rib cages reassembled. Limbs snapped back into position.

It was strange.

Unnatural.

An eerie sight as dozens, then hundreds, of skeletons began rebuilding themselves from the remains, hollow mana surging through them once more.

Bruce sighed quietly.

“So that’s how it is.”

Now it made sense why the undead were still present near the dungeon entrance despite Sophie having clearly raided through this place before. They weren’t being replenished.

They were reviving.

Given time, they would simply stand back up again.

But Bruce didn’t stop. He didn’t turn back. He didn’t care whether or not they can revive…

He continued forward, the shadow wolves moving with him, carving a path deeper into the dungeon.

The undead seemed endless. But the wolves were relentless. Their stamina didn’t falter. Their movements didn’t slow. Each kill was clean. Efficient. Almost mechanical. The dungeon corridor became a slaughter lane, shadows streaking forward as skeleton after skeleton was erased.

Then they encountered something different.

The next wave of undead had thicker bones, denser, reinforced, etched faintly with dark runes. Their frames were bulkier, their movements heavier. Stronger.

Elite undead!