SSS-Ranked Surgeon In Another World: The Healer Is Actually OP! Chapter 279: Throne Of Frost and Lies

"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."

His gaze sharpened, the weight behind it unmistakable. "So I ca here hoping you might have information the rest of Velmora doesn’t."

For a mont, Isolde said nothing.

She sat upon her throne of ice, one leg crossed over the other, fingers resting lightly against the armrest as frost slowly crept outward beneath her touch. Her pale eyes studied Duke with quiet patience, as though she were listening not just to his words, but to the thoughts he hadn’t voiced.

Then she smiled faintly.

"I’ve noticed irregular patterns as well," she said calmly. "But its nothing the natives of Eiskar cannot handle."

Her lips curved just a little more. "You worry too much."

Bruce felt it then, the elven soul stirring..

Isolde leaned back slightly, her gaze never leaving Duke.

"Besides," she continued, tone smooth and conversational, "have you given more thought to what I told you the last ti you ca?"

Duke frowned. "...You an the location of this world’s core?"

Isolde nodded.

At the sa ti, she lifted her hand ever so slightly.

A maid stepped forward imdiately, moving with flawless grace. White-gloved hands cradled a polished silver tray upon which rested a porcelain cup adorned with pale blue filigree, steam rising gently from its surface. The maid knelt, lowering the saucer onto the armrest beside the throne with reverent care, not a single sound echoing through the hall.

Isolde picked up the cup.

Her fingers were slender and elegant, every movent deliberate, refined, practiced. She took a small sip, eyes half-lidded, posture immaculate.

"Duke," she said softly, "you are the Supre Guildmaster of the Adventurer Guild. Your authority spans all of Velmora. Your network reaches further than any crown."

She lowered the cup slightly. "You should have found sothing by now. It shouldn’t be difficult."

Duke watched her closely, the silence stretching just long enough to matter. Then he asked, "What exactly do you need the world core for?"

The question lingered in the air.

Bruce felt Vaelith stir at the ntion of it, unease rippling faintly through their shared awareness.

Isolde’s eyes flickered just for a mont.

"The inhabitants of this world need the aid of the world core if they wish to stand a chance against the Invaders," she replied smoothly. "I seek it to request its assistance to purge the foreign entities infesting Velmora."

She took another sip of coffee, steam curling around her face, softening her features and lending her an almost serene, benevolent air.

"Who knows," she continued lightly, "with the cooperation of the world core, it may even be possible to shatter this world’s restrictions entirely."

Her gaze sharpened, the calm giving way to sothing sharper beneath. "To step directly into the legendary EX-Rank."

She set the cup back onto the saucer with a soft clink.

Elegant. Composed. Perfect.

Bruce watched it all in silence.

And through Life Glance, he saw the truth.

The elven soul pulsed faintly with satisfaction.

It wasn’t lying outright and that was the most dangerous part. Every word had been crafted with care, woven from truth, omission, and intent. A plan layered so deeply that even Duke was circling it without quite touching the center.

She wants the core, Bruce realized. But not for the reasons she’s saying.

Vaelith’s presence pressed closer, heavy and unmistakable.

[She is dangerous.]

Bruce didn’t reply.

His eyes remained on Isolde, on the elegant tyrant sipping coffee atop a throne of ice, and on the ancient elven Invader silently tightening its grip around her soul.

His eyes remained on Isolde, on the elegant tyrant seated upon her throne of sculpted ice, porcelain cup poised between pale fingers, steam curling lazily toward a ceiling lost in shadow. And deeper still, beyond the frost-kissed beauty and sovereign composure, he watched the ancient elven Invader coiled around her soul.

It had not loosened its grip once.

The frost spreading from the base of her throne continued its slow, deliberate crawl across the marble floor, branching into delicate veins like a living mural etched in white. It did not crack the stone. It claid it. The palace hall was vast enough to swallow armies whole, its vaulted ceiling disappearing into crystalline arches that reflected cold light in fractured halos. Yet sound behaved strangely here. Footsteps died quickly. Breaths thinned. Even the faint clink of porcelain seed reluctant to linger.

The guards lining the walls might as well have been statues carved from the sa ice as the throne. They breathed. That was all that betrayed them.

Duke rested one hand lightly on the arm of his chair, posture relaxed, expression mild. Only the stillness in his shoulders hinted at the pressure gathering beneath the surface.

Then he spoke.

"Certain dungeons," he began calmly, his voice carrying with quiet authority through the frost-laden air, "have been forming near leyline intersections."

Isolde did not so much as blink.

"Labyrinths," Duke continued, gaze steady on her, "are exhibiting foreign mana signatures that do not match Velmora’s natural flow."

The temperature in the hall seed to dip further, not in degrees, but in weight.

"And dungeon bosses," he finished, each word precise, "are evolving at rates that exceed what this world’s mana density should allow."

Silence answered him.

Not the empty kind. The deliberate kind.

A maid approached then, silent as falling snow.

She carried a polished silver kettle, steam rising in a thin, disciplined spiral. Her steps were asured to perfection. Her breathing was shallow. Her gaze never rose above the edge of the table. She poured fresh coffee into Duke’s cup first, then Bruce’s, ensuring the level aligned exactly with the curve of porcelain. Not a drop strayed. Not a motion faltered.

....

AN:

What do you guys think of the story so far... I’m sorry for the slow pace... Please vote with your powerstones and golden tickets this book is in dire need of those