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

“So,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on the wall ahead, “this is where things start getting tighter.”

Duke followed his gaze, his expression unreadable.

“…Exactly.”

He glanced sideways at Bruce, lips curling faintly, confidence bleeding effortlessly into his posture. “But don’t worry. With Duke here, even the Empress of Eiskar will have to show some respect.”

Bruce sighed.

He looked at Duke again, really looked this time. Same face as Traveller. Same underlying presence. Just wrapped in a different coat, a straighter spine, a carefully measured stillness. Duke was clearly the Traveler wearing formality like armor, and yet he was putting far too much effort into pretending the distinction mattered. The composure felt practiced. Deliberate. Almost defensive.

’Has he finally lost it…?’ Bruce wondered.

And yet, something else tugged at his attention.

Empress.

The title lingered. Duke had said it more than once now. Never Emperor. Not even casually. He only says empress this, empress that, So there’s a chance that Eiskar has no Emperor…

Before Bruce could voice the thought, Duke caught the look in his eyes and sighed, irritation flickering across his features.

“Don’t bunch me up with Traveler, please,” he said sharply. “He’s an alias. A coping mechanism. A hobby.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “He’s nothing compared to me.”

Bruce raised a brow.

Duke straightened, posture snapping into something unmistakably official. “Unlike my alias, which I use to escape the stress of this world, I, Duke, am the Supreme Guildmaster of the Adventurer Guild.”

Bruce stopped walking.

“…What?”

He turned fully now, disbelief plain on his face.

Supreme Guildmaster.

Not a branch master. Not a regional overseer.

The Supreme Guildmaster, the singular authority at the top of the Adventurer Guild, the figure who presided over every branch across the Twelve Kingdoms of Velmora. Thesame figure that Bruce tried to get to come to the meeting too but Bale told him that the head of the Adventurer Guild was to busy. It’s absurd to think that he had been with the head of the adventurer guild all this while without knowing it.

Seeing Bruce’s expression, Duke let out a tired sigh. “You don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to.”

“I believe you,” Bruce replied immediately.

Duke blinked.

Then rolled his eyes. “Do I look like some kid you can placate with empty affirmation?”

Before Bruce could respond, Duke lifted a hand and snapped his fingers sharply at an incoming carriage.

The normal transport carriage rolled to a halt beside them, its wooden frame reinforced with metal braces dulled by frost and use. A broad-shouldered mutant horse stood harnessed to it, breath steaming heavily, frost clinging to its mane. The rider sat bundled in thick layers, reins wrapped tight around gloved hands, eyes alert.

Duke flicked two coins. Gold.

They spun once through the air and landed cleanly in the rider’s palm.

“Third wall gate,” Duke said calmly.

The rider’s eyes widened for the briefest instant before he nodded. “Understood.”

Bruce and Duke stepped into the carriage, the interior lined with worn leather and insulated cloth meant to keep the cold at bay. The moment they settled in, the rider snapped the reins and the horse surged forward, hooves crunching against packed snow as the city began to roll past the narrow window.

After a short while, Duke leaned forward slightly. “Can you take us directly to the first gate?”

The rider let out a low, dry chuckle. “Not possible.”

Duke’s brows furrowed faintly.

“The Royal Guild Awakeneds supervising the gates are strict,” the rider continued, his voice rough but practiced, like someone who’d given this explanation many times. “Every wall has its own checks. Unless you’re directly tied to the royal family, you’ll have to stop and switch carriages at each gate to move deeper toward the Royal City.”

Duke leaned back, exhaling slowly. “This is very troublesome…”

The rider’s shoulders slumped slightly as the horse maintained its steady pace. “Such is life here,” he said, tone heavy with familiarity. “If I’d been born into the right bloodline, or held a higher position in Eiskar, I’d have access to more regions. Better routes. Better work.”

His grip tightened on the reins.

“But for now, I’m limited to the Third Class. That’s as far as I go. No matter how long I’ve worked these streets.” He paused, then added more quietly, “Still… if I work hard enough, save enough, keep my record clean… maybe I’ll be approved for Second Class one day.”

The carriage rattled softly as it passed over uneven stone.

“But even then,” the rider continued, a bitter edge creeping into his voice, “Second Class just means warmer streets and better food. It doesn’t mean freedom. It doesn’t mean choice. The walls don’t disappear, they just move closer.”

Bruce listened in silence.

Outside the window, the looming silhouette of the second wall grew larger, its shadow stretching across the road like an unspoken verdict, swallowing the street inch by inch as they approached.

The rider sighed.

“That’s Eiskar,” he said quietly. “A kingdom where how far you can go is decided long before you ever take your first step.”

The carriage rolled on.

Its wheels creaked softly as they crossed from packed snow onto stone reinforced with iron strips, the rhythm steady, almost hypnotic. Outside the narrow windows, the streets grew cleaner, wider, yet emptier. Buildings stood farther apart, their designs more uniform, less personal. Even the lanterns here burned brighter, colder.

The rider didn’t look back.

He kept his eyes on the road ahead.

“You know,” he continued after a moment, voice low and reflective, “when I was younger, I used to think the walls were there to protect us. That if I worked hard enough, proved myself useful enough, one day I’d pass through them naturally.”

He gave a dry laugh.

“But years pass. You grow older. And you realize the walls don’t move.”

Bruce remained silent, hands resting loosely in his lap, gaze fixed on the passing cityscape. He listened.

“People like me,” the rider went on, “we’re taught early what’s expected. Don’t stand out too much. Don’t cause trouble. Do your job. Pay your dues.” His grip tightened slightly on the reins. “You survive well enough… but surviving isn’t the same as living.”

Duke nodded faintly, expression calm but attentive.

“It’s efficient,” Duke said. “A system like this doesn’t collapse easily.”

The rider hummed in agreement. “Aye. It’s stable. Predictable. You always know where you stand.”

He paused.

“And that’s the cruel part.”

The horse snorted softly as cold air filled its lungs.

“Some nights,” the rider continued, “I wonder what it’d be like to wake up somewhere without walls. Without guards watching who goes where. To take a road just because I can, not because I’m allowed.”

Duke glanced at him. “And then?”

The rider sighed. “Then morning comes. And I hitch up the carriage again.”

They passed beneath another archway, Royal Guild patrols stationed at either side. The guards barely spared them a glance, third-class transport, routine, unremarkable.

“Hope,” the rider said quietly, “is expensive in Eiskar. Most of us can’t afford to spend too much of it.”

Duke was silent for a few breaths.

Then, as the second wall loomed closer ahead, its massive gates visible through drifting snow, he spoke again.

“Let me ask you something,” he said casually. “If you were given the chance to leave Eiskar, start fresh in another kingdom, would you take it?”

The rider didn’t answer right away.

His shoulders sagged slightly as he guided the horse forward.

“That’s a hard question,” he admitted. “I’ve lived here all my life. My parents lived here. My grandparents too.” He shook his head. “Eiskar is harsh, but it’s familiar. I’ve learn how to endure it, I’m used to it.”

He inhaled slowly.

“And who’s to say another kingdom would be better?” he continued. “Different territory. Different masters. Same struggle.”

The second wall grew closer now, its presence dominating the road ahead.

“And even if I wanted to leave,” the rider added, voice rougher, “it’s not simple. You don’t just walk to another kingdom. There are beast territories. Horde zones. Awakened creatures that see travelers as prey.”

Bruce’s eyes flicked briefly to him.

“Even if I survived,” the rider went on, “how long would it take to rebuild? Find work. Earn trust. Get recognized? Starting over isn’t just dangerous, it’s slow.”

He exhaled.

“And time…” he said softly, “…is something people like me don’t have much of.”

The carriage slowed.

Ahead, the gates of the second wall rose high and imposing, Royal Guild Awakeneds already visible atop the ramparts, eyes sharp and watchful.

The rider brought the horse to a steady stop, it let out a low neigh that reverberated through the place…

“This is as far as I go,” he said quietly, reins tightening as he turned slightly. “You’ll need another carriage from here.”

Duke nodded, expression thoughtful.

For a brief moment, the three of them sat there, surrounded by stone, snow, and unspoken truths, before the journey demanded its next step.