SSS-Ranked Surgeon In Another World: The Healer Is Actually OP! Chapter 159: Feast in the Blizzard!

Ash lifted its head, chest expanding, wings flaring wide...

ROOOOAAAAAAR!!!

The roar split through the blizzard, shaking the ice cliffs, vibrating through the frozen ground. Snow burst upward in a wide plu as the soundwave tore through the battlefield. Several wolves faltered mid-attack, instincts screaming at them to submit. Even the storm itself seed to hesitate under the force of that primal declaration.

Ash’s heart thundered with exhilaration. Every kill fed its fire. Every broken wolf stoked its pride. Every clash sharpened its instincts. This was more than battle!

This was birthright

And Ash was born for this!

Bruce watched quietly, the faint glow of amusent warming his eyes as he took in the scene before him. The dragon was soaked in blood and steam, each movent fluid and joyous, each roar echoing with a wild, proud rhythm.

"It seems Ash is loving the thrill of pure physical battle..." Bruce murmured, his words drifting into the storm with a soft thread of pride, and sothing that almost resembled nostalgia.

Because yes. In that aspect, Ash really did resemble him.

Ash crushed the final surviving wolf beneath its claw, pinning the beast’s spine to the snow with a decisive, brutal crack. The direwolf’s dying howl choked off halfway, and silence settled across the blizzard-swept battlefield.

Bruce nodded once. "Good boy, Ash."

Ash’s chest puffed out with draconic pride, wings fluttering in smug satisfaction as it surveyed the carnage it had created.

Bruce glanced around at the scattered corpses, then at Ash’s bright golden eyes shining with hunger and anticipation.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Well... we might as well eat."

He walked to the fallen Alpha, knelt beside its massive fra, and in a swift motion extracted several long, sturdy bones.

S-Ranked beast bones, dense, durable, naturally heat-resistant. Perfect tools for cooking. With calm, practiced movents, Bruce jabbed the bones into the snow, arranging them into a tripod-like stand. Then another. And another. Within minutes, a primitive but remarkably stable roasting fra stood ready above the frozen ground.

Ash hovered nearby the entire ti, tail wagging like an oversized, deadly puppy incapable of hiding its excitent.

Bruce laughed softly under his breath. "I guess it’s ti to roast so at."

Ash imdiately released a soft growl of anticipation, drool already gathering at the corner of its maw. It lowered its head and exhaled a steady, controlled stream of dragon fire, far gentler than the war-flas from earlier, but still blisteringly hot. Perfect for cooking S-Ranked beast at without reducing it to ashes.

The flas curled neatly around the bone-stand as Bruce skewered thick slabs of direwolf flesh onto the split.

Thankfully, he was prepared for this. Reaching into his bracelet’s storage, he pulled out neatly sealed seasoning packets, herbs, mana salt, pepper flakes, rich oils infused with elental essences. Lily loved candy, but he always stocked cooking ingredients for when he raids dungeons because he knows ash loves roasted at way too much.

He sprinkled the seasonings with expert precision, letting the oils lt and seep into the at as it sizzled over the dragon fire.

Soon a gentle sound filled the air, ssshhh, fat dripping onto heated snow, vapor rising in tiny bursts of steam.

Then the aroma hit.

A deep, rich, mouthwatering scent erupted from the roasting at, cutting through the icy wind like a hot knife through frozen butter.

Mana-rich oils mixed with savory herbs and crisping flesh, creating a fragrance so intoxicating it made even the blizzard hesitate.

Ash inhaled sharply. Then again. Then again, longer this ti.

Bruce chuckled. "Calm down. It’ll burn if you rush ."

Ash lowered its head obediently, but its massive tail continued smacking the snow, thump, thump, thump, each wag sending white powder flying.

Bruce rotated the at slowly. Juices sizzled down its sides. The outer layers crisped into a golden-brown crust while the interior stead tenderly. Herbs caralized into a fragrant glaze.

"Almost..." he murmured.

Ash leaned forward impatiently, claws digging trenches into the snow as it fought the urge to devour the entire spit. Finally, Bruce pulled free the first perfectly roasted piece and held it out. "Go on."

Ash didn’t wait a heartbeat.

CHOMP.

The dragon tore into the at with delighted ferocity, its eyes widening as a deep, rumbling purr vibrated from its chest, low, thunderous, pleased beyond asure. Clearly, roasted S-Ranked direwolf hit every pleasure receptor in its draconic soul.

Bruce tasted his own serving. The mont it touched his tongue, a burst of rich, mana-infused flavor spread across his mouth, tender flesh, smoky undertones, crisped fat, aromatic herbs. Better than ninety-nine percent of the restaurants in the kingdom, at least this is what Bruce was thinking when he ate, not that he has tried many restaurants since his transmigration.

He nodded once. "...Not bad."

They worked through the first roast quickly. Bruce skewered a thicker cut next, denser, tougher, but Ash’s dragon fire made short work of the cooking process, heat radiating smoothly with precision unmatched by mortal forges.

Halfway through the second roast, Ash suddenly lifted its head, growling low. Its ears pricked toward the storm, body tensing, tail curling protectively.

Bruce didn’t even bother looking up. "I know."

A breath later, Bruce’s aura surged outward, a violent eruption of force that shattered the stillness like a volcanic beast awakening beneath the ice.

FWOOOM!

Air rippled. Snow blasted backward in a circular wave. Even the swirling storm recoiled, the blizzard bending around the pressure instead of pushing through it.

Bruce stood beside the roasting pit, eyes icy and unreadable, expression almost bored.

"Any beasts that want to co," he said calmly, "should co."

He tilted his head slightly, as though offering a welco.

"We’ll just add them to the queue of things to be roasted."

Ash roared in delighted agreent, dragon fire dancing eagerly in its throat.

Bruce and Ash continued roasting at as though they weren’t deep inside a lethal S-Rank dungeon, as though predators weren’t circling the storm’s edge, as though they hadn’t slaughtered dozens of direwolves minutes earlier.

The bone-roasting stand, crafted from the Alpha’s S-Rank skeleton, glowed faintly under the steady heat of Ash’s dragon fire. Thick slabs of direwolf at sizzled on the spit, fat dripping into the snow below and erupting into tiny bursts of steam.