SSS-Ranked Surgeon In Another World: The Healer Is Actually OP! - Chapter 298: Domain Of Suppression!

Chapter 298: Domain Of Suppression!

Bruce was aware, too, of something else.

Isolde could have cleared the weaker beasts herself. So could Duke. An SSS-tier aura unleashed fully would suppress A-Ranks into submission without effort. So why assign him this role?

Bruce had known from the moment she gave the instruction.

She wanted to see. To measure. To observe the limits of what he could do. A sovereign assessing an asset. A monarch testing a weapon. Or one simply observing an ally

He didn’t mind. He had nothing to hide and everything to gain. He had handled the invader, as long as she doesn’t get to his bad books then he’s okay.

This cooperation wasn’t charity. It was mutual leverage. If nothing else, he could always request compensation later. A monarch of Eiskar could spare a hundred million gold coins without destabilizing her treasury.

The thought amused him faintly.

But more than gold, he was harvesting something else.

Experience. Growth.

Another wave of monkeys burst from the trees ahead, screeching as they launched themselves toward him in a coordinated dive. Bruce didn’t slow. His Authority brushed them. Their bodies shrank mid-lunge, and momentum carried their withered forms past him as he sidestepped fluidly, one hand snapping out to redirect a falling carcass so it wouldn’t collide with his path.

Five kilometers of awareness. Thousands suppressed. SSS-tier signatures ahead. An unstable Core waiting at the center.

The frozen wind howled louder as the terrain began to slope upward, ice formations growing denser and mana thickening like invisible fog.

And somewhere deep within this vast, expanding Labyrinth, something massive shifted.

The silence was cracking.

And when it finally broke, it wouldn’t be subtle.

….

The frozen terrain shifted as they pushed deeper into the Labyrinth.

The dense frost-veined forest thinned behind them, skeletal branches glittering faintly beneath the pale sky. Ice-coated trees gave way to a vast expanse of crystalline rock formations that jutted upward like broken spears from the earth, shards of translucent mineral growing naturally from the ground, some as tall as watchtowers, others no larger than gravestones. They refracted the weak daylight into fractured rainbows that scattered across the snow in prismatic streaks, painting the white expanse with cold, shattered color.

The air changed. Grew sharper. Charged. Each breath felt like inhaling powdered glass and lightning.

Bruce’s expanded awareness brushed against something at the edge of his perception, a vibration, subtle at first, like distant tremors beneath solid ground. He slowed his breathing instinctively, letting his consciousness stretch outward.

The vibration deepened. Layered. Rhythmic.

Then it grew louder, a low, unified hum, like thousands of blades slicing through air in perfect synchronization.

Duke slowed slightly mid-air, boots skimming over the crystalline field without quite touching it. Isolde’s gaze lifted toward the horizon, her expression calm but attentive. The sound intensified, not a roar, not a screech, but the steady, rising tremor of wings beating at terrifying velocity.

The sky ahead darkened.

Not from clouds. From movement.

They emerged from behind the tallest crystal spires in a tidal wave of glinting bodies.

Shardbark Beetles. Fist-sized. Deceptively small.

Their outer shells resembled layered bark fused with jagged crystal growths, each carapace a natural armor plate ridged and serrated like splintered obsidian. Shards protruded along their backs and thoraxes, forming uneven crowns of mineral that gleamed like weaponized gemstones. The edges of their wing casings shimmered with razor-sharp deposits capable of slicing flesh simply by grazing it at speed. Their wings were thin and translucent, yet reinforced with vein-like metallic striations that vibrated so fast they blurred into silver halos around each body.

And their eyes, clustered, faceted, cold.

Most of them were S-Ranked.

Bruce felt it instantly. Their vitality signatures were compact and impossibly dense for creatures so small, each one carrying explosive potential coiled within that tiny frame. A single coordinated swarm could shred an unprepared S-Rank hunter into bone fragments within seconds.

The sky vanished beneath chitin and crystal. An airborne ocean. The sound became overwhelming, the pressure of wind alone bursting outward in violent gusts as the swarm surged forward, the force of synchronized wings bending the air around them.

Duke did not flinch. Isolde did not slow.

Their SSS-tier auras remained faint but unmistakable, subtle pressure that didn’t flare aggressively, yet existed with sovereign certainty. It wasn’t displayed dominance. It was inherent.

The leading edge of the swarm trembled.

Instinct rippled through thousands of minds at once. Predators recognized apexes. They felt the pressure radiating from Duke and Isolde’s mere existence, and the swarm parted, not in panic, not in chaotic retreat, but in disciplined deference. Like a tide bending around immovable cliffs. The beetles refused to approach within a certain distance of the two SSS-tier existences, opening corridors through their own formation and letting the two sovereign figures pass unchallenged.

Bruce watched the phenomenon with mild interest. “…Convenient.”

Then the hum shifted.

Because unlike the other two, Bruce’s aura was hidden. No SSS-tier flare. No oppressive pressure. No sovereign declaration. Only a fast-moving presence cutting across their territory, and as far as the swarm was concerned, fair game.

The pitch rose. Sharper. Aggressive.

The Shardbark Beetles pivoted mid-air with frightening coordination, their formation twisting into spirals that funneled toward him in a tightening assault pattern. Thousands. Tens of thousands. Crystal-edged wings glinting as they accelerated.

Bruce exhaled slowly. “Of course.”

The first wave reached him.

And in that same instant, Vitality Sovereign expanded.

Five kilometers.

There was no visible burst of light. No dramatic shockwave. No crackling mana surge. Just will.

Every Shardbark Beetle within that radius froze mid-flight. The hum cut off in an instant. Then their vitality compressed violently inward, not extinguished, not killed, but crushed to the brink of collapse. Wings ceased beating. Bodies stiffened.

The sky rained beetles.

They fell like metallic hail across the crystalline plain, striking shard formations with brittle clinks and sharp, ringing impacts. Thousands hit the ground in a cascading avalanche of S-Ranked bodies. The earth trembled faintly beneath the sudden downpour.

Each beetle lay twitching weakly, vitality reduced to a faint flicker. Alive. Barely.

Bruce didn’t slow. He ran through the falling storm, eyes calm, breath steady.

Ahead, Duke glanced back briefly, one brow lifting. “…You’re farming.”

Bruce’s lips curved faintly. “Training.”

Duke rolled his eyes with a slight smile on his face.

Isolde’s voice carried back over the wind, composed but edged with subtle intrigue. “You’re suppressing S-Ranked swarms casually.”

“They’re durable, their Vitality immense,” Bruce replied mid-stride. “I left enough vitality for them to last a while.”