SSS-Ranked Surgeon In Another World: The Healer Is Actually OP! Chapter 278: Broken Soul

The maids’ fingers never lingered longer than necessary. Once their task was complete, they withdrew with the sa quiet precision, retreating into the palace corridors until it was as though they had never existed at all.

Bruce reached for the cup without hesitation. No suspicion. No caution.

His fingers closed around the porcelain, warmth seeping into his palm in sharp contrast to the frost-laced air. He lifted it and took a slow sip, letting the taste settle.

Bitter. Strong and Well-made.

If there was poison in it, it would have ant nothing to him anyway.

As he drank, his gaze never left Empress Isolde.

And through Life Glance, the illusion shattered.

Her soul was there.

Or rather... what remained of it.

Isolde’s soul still existed, but it was no longer whole. It had been compressed inward, crushed and folded in on itself like a star collapsing beneath an unbearable gravitational force. Flickers of resistance remained, faint, stubborn sparks clinging desperately to identity, but they were dimming, losing ground with every passing mont.

Because wrapped around it, dominating it, was another soul entirely.

An Invader.

The silhouette was unmistakable. Slender. Elegant. Long-eared. An elf.

Bruce’s fingers tightened imperceptibly around the cup.

"...An elf?"

The invading soul had spread through most of Isolde’s spiritual structure, its presence refined, ancient, and rcilessly precise. Unlike Adoni, who had been invasive, arrogant, and overt, this one was controlled. Surgical. Every strand of its influence placed with intention, every suppression calculated.

It wasn’t rely occupying Isolde.

It was suppressing her.

Crushing her soul beneath layers of foreign will, binding it in place while wearing her body like a crown.

Bruce exhaled slowly, carefully.

Back on Earth, elves were gentle things. Forest guardians. Peacemakers. Symbols of harmony and balance, woven into myths and stories across countless cultures.

Who would have thought,

That one of the races most aggressively attempting to claim this world,

Would be them.

"So this is how deep it goes..." he thought grimly.

Vaelith’s presence stirred faintly at the edge of his awareness, heavy with quiet acknowledgnt. No denial. No surprise. Only the weight of confirmation.

Bruce took another sip, buying himself ti while his mind worked at full speed.

Soul Shatter.

The solution presented itself imdiately.

And just as imdiately, the danger followed.

Soul Shatter was ranged, but against Invaders, who are obviously of higher strength, distance was a liability rather than an advantage. If he struck from afar, the Invader would sense it the instant his intent sharpened, slip away from the heart of the impact, retreat deeper into Isolde’s spiritual core, or worse, sever the connection entirely in a way that could kill her outright.

That was exactly why,

With Adoni,

Bruce had waited.

Waited until proximity erased all avenues of escape.

A handshake. Direct contact. Full transfer. Full annihilation. Even then it has been hard.

"I’ll need to do the sa here..."

His eyes flicked subtly toward the throne, asuring the distance between himself and the seat of ice.

Too far. Too many eyes. Too much authority radiating from that position, authority backed not just by power, but by years of rule and fear.

And unlike Adoni’s possession that was discovered monts after he possessed Bane, this possession wasn’t recent. It had been possessing that body for years. Decades, perhaps.

Who knew how much of the real Isolde still remained beneath that crushing presence? Who knew whether her soul still had the strength to resist once the Invader was struck? If her will had already been ground down beyond recovery,

Then Soul Shatter might not just destroy the Invader. It might tear the vessel apart as well.

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

"This is dangerous..."

But doing nothing was worse.

He lowered the cup back onto its saucer, porcelain clicking softly against ice, the sound unnaturally loud in the stillness of the hall.

Across from him, Empress Isolde sat unmoving, pale eyes fixed on Duke, lips curved in that faint, tyrannical smile. Every inch of her radiated imperial authority, the Empress of Eiskar in her full, chilling splendor.

But Bruce knew better now.

Behind that gaze, an ancient elven soul watched him in return.

Waiting. asuring.

And Bruce understood, with absolute clarity, that this eting was no longer political.

It was a battlefield, one where a single mistake would decide the fate of an entire world.

At that mont, Duke let out a dry cough.

It wasn’t loud, and it certainly wasn’t forced, but it cut cleanly through the tension like a blade sliding between ribs. He glanced sideways at Bruce, one brow lifting just slightly. "I know she’s beautiful," he said casually, "but aren’t you staring a bit too hard?"

Bruce froze.

The porcelain saucer slipped from his fingers with a soft clink as it struck the ice-crafted table. He coughed imdiately, turning it into an awkward, poorly tid fit, using the motion to lower his head just enough to break eye contact.

Of course he’d been staring. How else was he supposed to see? Life Glance wasn’t so idle glance. It demanded focus, depth, precision. And explaining that he was currently dissecting the Empress’s soul structure would raise far more questions than he could afford to answer.

How exactly do I tell him I’m looking at the thing wearing her soul like a cloak? Bruce thought dryly.

Fortunately, Duke didn’t wait for an answer. He turned back toward the throne, expression shifting as the faint playfulness drained from his features, replaced by sothing far more serious. When he spoke again, his voice carried through the hall without needing to be raised.

"Isolde," Duke said evenly, "have you noticed anything... strange about recent dungeon spawns?"

The guards lining the hall remained rigid and silent. Frost-laced torches flickered softly against the ice walls, their light bending strangely as it danced across the Empress’s throne.

"I’ve noticed certain entities from outside Velmora using thods that don’t align with normal dungeon or Labyrinth creation," Duke continued. "Their intent isn’t clear. Their thods aren’t native."