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

’Transportation of Normal Mana automobile would be hard, Unless…’ His thoughts shifted naturally, smoothly. ’…Unless armored variants existed.’

Vehicles capable of withstanding direct awakened assaults. Reinforced frames. Layered mana barriers. Adaptive defenses capable of responding in real time. Considering the Thorne family’s reputation, their genius, their foresight, the way Valkrin’s technology always seemed one step ahead of the rest of the world,

There was a high chance they’d already thought of it. Maybe even built it.

Just not something Bruce had encountered yet.

Understanding settled quietly in his chest, replacing curiosity with clarity. He exhaled, the fog of his breath dissolving into the cold air.

“So,” Bruce said at last, eyes fixed forward, his voice calm but carrying a weight that hadn’t been there before, “what’s the plan…”

The Traveler didn’t answer right away.

They continued walking, their boots crunching softly through packed snow as they moved deeper into the city. Low stone buildings lined the streets on either side, their roofs buried beneath thick white layers that looked less temporary and more permanent, as though winter had long ago claimed ownership of the land. Iron lantern posts stood at measured intervals, each one burning with pale blue flames that cast a cold, even glow across the road.

The streets were busy, yet subdued, people wrapped in heavy coats, their movements efficient, purposeful, eyes forward and conversations muted. There was no disorder here, no lingering, no wasted motion.

There was order. Too much of it.

After a moment, the Traveler finally spoke, his tone deliberately light, almost flippant, as if trying not to give the subject more weight than it already carried. “Eiskar’s… strange,” he said. “Their ruling monarch likes control. A lot of it.”

Bruce listened, saying nothing, his attention fixed on the rhythm of the city around them.

“The Adventurer Guild?” the Traveler continued. “Barely has a leash here. Same goes for any other guild worth mentioning. Awakeneds don’t get to freelance the way they do in Valkrin.” He paused, then tapped his temple lightly. “All Awakeneds born or discovered in Eiskar are directly recruited into the kingdom’s forces. No exceptions. No ’independent contracts.’ No wandering heroes.”

He glanced sideways at Bruce as they walked. “They answer to the crown. Period.”

Bruce’s gaze sharpened slightly. “That includes dungeon activity?”

The Traveler nodded without hesitation. “Especially dungeon activity. The kingdom’s forces don’t just defend the borders, they control information. Dungeon spawns, threat levels, casualty reports… nothing leaves unless they decide it should.”

Bruce frowned, his steps slowing just enough to register. “So unless they need outside help,” he said quietly, “no one else even knows.”

“Exactly,” the Traveler replied. “And by the time they do ask for help, it’s because they’ve already squeezed everything they can out of it themselves.”

They passed a wide intersection then, where a heavy public transport carriage rolled by. Its thick wooden frame was reinforced with iron bands darkened by age and cold, drawn by a pair of frost-coated beasts whose breath steamed heavily as they moved. Guards sat at both the front and rear, hands resting near their weapons, eyes sharp and watchful as the carriage passed through the crowd.

The Traveler didn’t even glance at it.

Bruce noticed. He knew better than to ask yet.

“They don’t trust decentralization,” the Traveler went on. “And they definitely don’t trust people having options.”

Bruce exhaled slowly, the sound fogging in the air before vanishing. That was… troublesome. Tyrannical, even. Valkrin wasn’t perfect, far from it, but its Emperor and Empress didn’t choke the kingdom like this. Power there was overwhelming, yes, but it wasn’t pressed down into every aspect of daily life. People still moved, still chose, still lived without feeling watched at every turn.

Control without visibility bred rot. Bruce knew that instinctively.

They kept walking as snowflakes drifted lazily from a steel-gray sky, settling onto cloaks and shoulders before melting away. After a brief pause, the Traveler spoke again, his voice dropping just a fraction.

“You see, with my ability… I can bypass most of the usual transportation problems. Distance. Terrain. Beasts. Doesn’t matter much to me.”

Bruce turned his head slightly, giving him his full attention now.

“I’ve moved things between kingdoms before,” the Traveler added casually. “People. Artifacts. Supplies. Even tech, once or twice. So if Eiskar wanted development, real development, they could have it.”

His smile thinned, losing some of its usual mischief.

“They know that.”

Bruce’s steps slowed further, snow crunching beneath his boots as understanding began to settle in his chest. “So why don’t they?” he asked.

The Traveler’s eyes flicked briefly toward the surrounding streets, the uniform clothing, the absence of personal devices, the lack of familiar tech signatures woven into daily life. “Because technology changes things,” he said simply. “Smart bracelets. Communication networks. Instant access to information.”

He let out a soft, humorless chuckle. “Hard to keep a tight grip when everyone can see beyond your walls.”

The Traveler glanced back at Bruce. “Thorne tech would loosen their hold. Make people independent. Aware. Harder to silence.”

Snow crunched beneath Bruce’s boots as he came to a slow stop, the sounds of the city continuing around him as if nothing had changed. Understanding settled fully now, heavy and undeniable.

He frowned.

The Traveler noticed immediately. He let out a slow breath, then lifted a hand and gestured vaguely ahead, toward the distant rise of black stone barely visible through the drifting snow.

“Those walls you saw, the one we just walked past,” he said, his voice steady now, stripped of its earlier playfulness, “they aren’t just for defense.”

They kept walking. Snow crunched beneath their boots as the street subtly widened, the buildings around them growing more uniform, more restrained. Color drained from the structures as they moved forward, fewer banners, fewer signs of individuality, fewer signs that anyone lived here beyond necessity. Even the people felt different. Movements were efficient, ordered. Spacing deliberate. As though everyone had been quietly sorted long before Bruce ever set foot in the city.

“Eiskar is divided into four regions,” the Traveler continued. “Each one wrapped in its own wall. Circles within circles.”

Bruce’s gaze sharpened, the pattern clicking into place almost immediately. “Social tiers.”

The Traveler smiled faintly. “You catch on quick.” He gestured back over his shoulder, toward the direction they’d come from. “The outermost wall, the one we just passed, protects the third-class population. Laborers. Merchants. Low-rank Awakeneds. The people who keep the kingdom running but don’t get a say in how it’s run.”

Bruce glanced around again, seeing the streets with new eyes. Armed patrols moved through at regular intervals, their armor standardized, their expressions flat and unreadable. They weren’t guarding the people so much as watching them.

“Beyond that,” the Traveler went on, his tone still casual, “is the second wall. Second-class citizens. Higher-rank Awakeneds. Officials. People with value, but still expendable.”

The words landed heavier than his voice suggested.

“And then the third wall?” Bruce asked.

The Traveler’s eyes lifted slightly, toward where the city rose more steeply, buildings stacking tighter, stonework cleaner even beneath the snow. “First-class citizens. Elites. Commanders. Bloodlines the crown actually cares about. That area’s warmer. Better supplied. Less crowded.”

Bruce exhaled quietly, breath fogging as it left him. “…And the fourth.”

The Traveler nodded. “The innermost wall. Royal district. Palace grounds. The monarch and their direct lineage.”

They passed beneath a tall archway etched with old runes dulled by frost and time, the stone worn smooth by centuries of passage. Two guards stood watch beneath it, their insignias marking them as Royal Guild. Their gazes tracked everyone who passed with sharp, impersonal precision, lingering just a fraction longer on Bruce before sliding away.

“If any region comes under threat,” the Traveler continued, lowering his voice just enough to match the mood of the place, “the response depends entirely on which wall is endangered.”

Bruce’s frown deepened. “Let me guess. The closer to the center—”

“The more serious it becomes,” the Traveler finished. “Exactly.” He flicked a glance toward the guards as they moved past, then back to Bruce. “The Royal Guild handles everything. They answer only to the monarch. No outside guild interference. No Adventurer Guild arbitration.”

“And the outer districts?” Bruce asked.

The Traveler shrugged lightly. “Delayed responses. Minimal deployment. Losses are… acceptable.”

Snow began to fall heavier, drifting between the buildings like ash, muffling sound and narrowing sightlines. The city felt more closed in now, the walls less distant.

“But if the second or third wall is threatened,” the Traveler continued, “you’ll see elites mobilized. Specialized squads. Suppression units.”

His smile vanished entirely.

“And if anything even approaches the royal wall,” he said quietly, “the response is absolute. No hesitation. No concern for collateral.”

Bruce said nothing. The cold seemed sharper now, creeping deeper beneath his coat, as if the city itself had leaned closer.

“This kingdom,” the Traveler added after a moment, his tone softer but no less cutting, “is built on hierarchy, control, and fear. Order is everything. And order is maintained by making sure everyone knows exactly where they stand.”

He looked at Bruce.

“And exactly how disposable they are.”