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

“Actually,” Bruce said, voice light but certain, “I don’t need the Traveler’s teleportation.”

Everyone was shocked after hearing Bruce, they were all shocked to the core.

However, Bruce continued without pause. “I can teleport to any kingdom I wish, at any time.”

The air in the room suddenly felt heavier than usual after they heard Bruce. The silence was heavy and thick.

Even the auras froze, as if the air itself had forgotten how to move.

“But,” Bruce added calmly, “I will need his influence if I want things to proceed smoothly.”

This time, several of them frowned openly.

Unspoken thoughts rippled through the room, heavy and unmistakable.

’Isn’t his ability related to healing?’

’How is he able to achieve teleportation’

“What exactly is he hiding?’

No matter how hard they thought, they just couldn’t wrap their mind around how Bruce was able to achieve this.

Bruce noticed every reaction. Every micro-expression. Every shift of aura and breath.

He didn’t explain. He didn’t need to.

Instead, he met their gazes evenly, unshaken, his calm unforced and absolute. The implication settled over the table like an unspoken truth.

Whatever they believed they understood about the Anomaly of Velmora, it wasn’t enough.

“With the help of the Guardian of Velmora,” Bruce said evenly, breaking the silence, “I can teleport to any place within Velmora as I wish.”

That single sentence changed the room.

It wasn’t dramatic. There was no flare of aura, no surge of mana. And yet understanding dawned almost immediately. Several of the seven nodded faintly, expressions tightening, not in doubt, but in acceptance. The kind born from experience. From survival.

“As expected of the Anomaly,” one of the women said quietly, her voice low with restrained awe. “To earn the attention of the world core itself…”

The words carried weight.

There were countless legends surrounding the World Core. Some claimed it was the creator of Velmora, the intelligence that had shaped land and law alike. Others believed it to be a god that had long since fallen silent, watching from beyond reach. There were even older myths, whispered rather than taught, that spoke of a sealed celestial being, or a remnant of something that predated the current era entirely.

But regardless of the story one believed, a single fact had never been disputed.

The World Core had never revealed its location.

Across all of Velmora’s history, it had interacted with its inhabitants only a handful of times, and always indirectly. Never openly. Never personally. No one had ever achieved the level of familiarity, no, interaction, that Bruce had reached.

Knowing that the Anomaly had the World Core’s backing altered the weight of everything he said.

Trust settled into the room. Not blind trust, but the kind born of instinct, the understanding that when the world itself took sides, ignoring it was suicide.

Bruce took his seat again, posture composed, allowing them time to process. He didn’t rush them. He didn’t fill the silence. He had learned long ago that silence, when used correctly, did more work than words ever could.

For a brief moment, his thoughts drifted, not to the meeting, but to Vaelith.

Not long ago, he had asked the Guardian a question that had been lingering in his mind for some time.

’Why does the World Core hide its location so completely?’

Bruce had already suspected the answer. He had only wanted confirmation.

Vaelith’s response had been blunt.

During invasions, things like possession were inevitable.

Just like Adoni.

Just like what had happened to Bane.

Once an invader successfully possessed a native of a world, they gained access to everything that person knew. Memories. Knowledge. Paths that were never meant to be walked. And among all possible information, there was nothing more dangerous than the location of the World Core itself.

If an invader learned where it was, the process became terrifyingly simple.

Reach it.

Spill blood.

Initiate a clash of will.

The method of claiming a world was no different from claiming a labyrinth. Once the will was challenged, the world would be forced to respond. Victory didn’t require armies, only access.

That was why the World Core revealed nothing.

That was why even Bruce, despite having been there multiple times, did not know how to reach it on his own.

Vaelith teleported him. Every time. Without exception.

Even now, Bruce had no coordinates, no path, no method to reach the core without the Guardian’s consent.

And that was intentional. He had been there multiple times, but only through Vaelith’s teleportation.

Because if Bruce could ever be compromised, then Velmora itself could be lost.

The thought passed through his mind briefly, sharp and cold, before he returned his focus to the room.

“I won’t ask for blind cooperation,” Bruce said calmly. “What I want is coordination. Information sharing. Access. Authority when needed.”

His gaze moved slowly around the table, meeting each presence without challenge or submission.

“Invaders don’t announce themselves,” he continued. “They adapt. They wait. If I’m going to move across all twelve kingdoms, I need the guild aligned, not fragmented.”

Silence followed. But this time, it wasn’t uncertainty. It was calculation.

The Seven SSS-rank figures weighed his words carefully, not as politicians, not as adventurers, but as guardians deciding how much of the future they were willing to place in one man’s hands.

Because now, they understood something clearly. Bruce wasn’t acting on impulse. He was preparing for war.

For a brief moment, no one spoke, not because they disagreed, but because each of them was weighing realities too large to voice lightly. Responsibilities. Boundaries. The cost of action, and the cost of delay. One of the men leaned back slightly, fingers interlaced atop the table, posture relaxed but eyes sharpened with thought. His aura remained steady, restrained to the point of invisibility.

“We won’t pretend otherwise,” he said calmly. “Each of us has matters we cannot abandon.”

A woman with silver-streaked hair followed, her gaze cold and composed, voice precise. “Valkrin alone requires constant oversight. Dungeon fluctuations. Border stability. Internal guild affairs. If we all leave, this kingdom becomes vulnerable.”

Another voice joined in, deeper, grounded with experience rather than force. “And if Valkrin falls,” he said evenly, “then whatever you achieve elsewhere will mean little.”

Bruce nodded slowly, unsurprised.

“I expected that,” he replied. “I’m not asking you to follow me.”

The tension in the room eased almost imperceptibly, shoulders loosening, auras relaxing by fractions that only those at this level could perceive.

“But,” Bruce continued, his tone unchanged, “I am asking for your full support.”

One of the men exhaled softly through his nose, the hint of amusement touching his expression.

“You already have it. Otherwise, this meeting wouldn’t even be happening.”

Another leaned forward, elbows resting lightly on the table.

“We’ll open our information channels to you,” she said. “Invader sightings. Suspected possession cases. Anomalous dungeon behavior, anything flagged at S-rank or above.”

“And authority,” someone else added without hesitation. “When you move between kingdoms, you’ll carry guild recognition. No unnecessary delays. No bureaucratic obstruction.”

At the head of the table, Bale nodded once. “I’ll personally ensure all branch heads are informed,” he said. “Your presence won’t be questioned.”

Bruce listened without interruption, committing each promise to memory. He understood what was being offered, not loyalty, not obedience, but alignment. The most valuable currency in times like these.

One of the SSS-ranked men tapped the table once, the sound crisp in the open space. “There is something else,” he said. “If you’re traveling across Velmora, you’ll encounter resistance. Not just from invaders, but from people.”

Bruce looked at him, attentive.

“Nobles,” the man continued. “Hidden factions. Kingdoms that prefer ignorance to panic. Some will try to bury the truth rather than face it.”

“I know,” Bruce replied.

The man studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Good.”

Another voice spoke, low and deliberate. “We can’t move openly yet. If the public learns too much, too quickly, chaos follows.” His gaze hardened slightly. “But you can act in the shadows.”

Bruce’s eyes flickered.

“That’s why you’re suited for this,” the woman with silver hair said. “You don’t seek attention. You seek results.”

Bruce exhaled quietly and leaned back, settling fully into his seat. “Then we’re aligned.”

One of the men offered a faint, humorless smile. “Aligned, yes. But don’t misunderstand, if things escalate, Valkrin will become your fallback point.”

Bruce met his gaze evenly.

“It won’t come to that,” he said calmly. “But if it does, I won’t let this kingdom fall.”

The promise carried weight, not because it was dramatic, but because it was measured. Controlled. Absolute.

The seven exchanged brief glances. No one doubted him.

Bale cleared his throat lightly, drawing their attention. “Then we’ll proceed as follows,” he said.

“Bruce will begin his movements across the kingdoms. Valkrin’s branch will act as his anchor, logistical, informational, and political.” He turned to Bruce.

“You won’t be alone,” Bale added. “Even if it might seem you walk alone, I don’t know if traveler will support your cause, but expect feedback from me soon.”