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

The carriage slowed to a halt before the third gate.

Stone towers loomed overhead, their surfaces layered with frost and reinforced by thick mana-etched plates that pulsed faintly beneath the snow, like a slumbering heartbeat. The gate itself was massive, twin slabs of dark metal veined with ancient sigils, each line worn smooth by time yet still humming with restrained authority. Rows of Royal Guild Awakeneds stood watch along the walls and elevated platforms above, their silhouettes rigid against the gray sky, eyes tracking every movement below.

The rider reined in the mutant horse and climbed down first, boots crunching against the snow, then he pointed…

“This is it,” he said quietly. “Third wall checkpoint.”

Bruce and Duke stepped down moments later. The cold here felt sharper, cleaner somehow, as though the wall itself filtered the air, stripping it down to something more absolute. The space carried weight. Expectation.

They hadn’t taken more than a few steps forward when a voice cut through the stillness.

“Halt.”

A young man stepped out from the guard line, his Royal Guild insignia catching the faint light beneath his cloak. He looked barely past his twenties, posture rigid, spine straight as a blade. His eyes were sharp with practiced authority, the kind drilled in through doctrine rather than experience. Two more Awakeneds flanked him, hands resting close to their weapons, expressions unreadable.

“This gate leads to the Second-Class region,” the young Awakened said evenly. “Do you have the qualifications to proceed?”

Bruce remained silent. Meanwhile, Duke stepped forward. Without a word, he reached into his coat and withdrew an emblem.

The morning sun reflected off the gold emblem in rays that made it look captivating. A roaring tiger etched in fine detail, its jaws frozen in a silent snarl. Mana coursed faintly through its lines, old, deep, unmistakably powerful.

“I want to see the Empress,” Duke said calmly.

For a heartbeat, Nothing.

Then the young Awakened’s eyes widened.

His breath hitched.

“…This emblem,” he whispered. “Impossible…”

The guards beside him stiffened, gazes snapping toward the symbol. Murmurs rippled through the checkpoint as more Royal Guild Awakeneds took notice, tension spreading like a living thing.

The Golden Roaring Tiger.

Years ago, long before most of them had taken their oaths, a single man had passed through these very walls bearing that emblem. A man who had bypassed every restriction, every protocol, and forced open space for the Adventurer Guild within Eiskar itself. A presence the monarchy had never fully erased, no matter how tightly they tried to close their grip afterward.

The overall head of the Adventurer Guild.

The one who ruled branches across all Twelve Kingdoms of Velmora.

But unfortunately, after causing a commotion whilst establishing the Adventurer Guild in Eiskar, the head vanished. It was unknown if the established members still heard from him, but they were quite strong headed and steadfast since ruling monarch had made moves on them multiple times but despite the suppression they still stood tall as adventurers.

Within Eiskar, the Adventurer Guild’s influence was suppressed, constrained, tolerated only in name. But beyond these walls, across Velmora, it was known that its fame eclipsed that of the Royal Guard entirely. The Awakeneds of the Adventurer Guild are the only guild whose members answer to a different title than ordinary Awakeneds. Only those affiliated with the Adventurer Guild are called adventurers.

The Adventurer Guild is widely accepted across all kingdoms, except Eiskar, of course. The young Awakened swallowed.

He could feel it now. The pressure.

A suffocating weight pressing down on his senses, S-Ranked suppression, clean and absolute, controlled so precisely it felt almost polite.

’Who knows if he’s SSS…’ The thought crossed his mind unbidden.

If this man wanted to force his way through, they wouldn’t stop him. They couldn’t.

And if chaos erupted at the gate?

The Empress herself would demand to know why they had provoked someone like this.

The young Awakened straightened, visibly steeling himself. “If this emblem is false,” he said firmly, voice tight but steady, “you will face consequences. Severe ones.”

Duke said nothing. He didn’t move. He didn’t react.

The silence stretched, heavy enough to press against the ears. Sweat beaded at the young Awakened’s temple despite the cold. One of the guards beside him gulped audibly.

Finally, the young man exhaled.

“…Call it in,” he said quietly.

A signal was given.

Moments later, the sound of heavy wheels echoed from beyond the gate. A special carriage emerged, larger, reinforced, its exterior marked with royal sigils and layered mana-plates. The beasts pulling it were nothing like the earlier transport: sleek, powerful, eyes glowing faintly with disciplined awareness.

A carriage meant for the inner city.

For the Royal Palace.

The gate mechanisms groaned as they shifted, unlocking with deep, resonant clicks that reverberated through the stone. The young Awakened stepped aside, bowing his head slightly now, authority tempered by caution.

“Please,” he said, voice respectful, “this carriage will take you directly to the Royal Palace.”

Duke finally moved.

He stepped forward, the oppressive pressure easing just enough for the guards to breathe again. Bruce followed in silence as the carriage doors opened, warm light spilling out into the snow, cutting a stark contrast against the cold.

Behind them, the third gate closed. And the path toward the heart of Eiskar lay open.

The gates sealed behind the carriage with a deep, echoing thud that reverberated through the stone towers and faded slowly into the snow-choked air.

Snow drifted back into place, soft and indifferent, erasing footprints and disturbance alike, as if nothing unusual had happened at all.

Only then did the man who seemed to be in charge straighten fully.

His gaze lingered on the road ahead, on the narrowing stretch of stone where the royal carriage had already disappeared from sight. For a moment, his jaw tightened, the faintest crease forming between his brows. Then he turned sharply to one of the Royal Guild Awakeneds standing nearby.

“Follow them closely,” he said in a low, firm voice that carried no room for interpretation. “If they do anything suspicious… apprehend them immediately.”

The order settled over the checkpoint like a weight.

The young Awakened he addressed stiffened at once. For the briefest instant, something flickered across his face, hesitation, disbelief, a quiet why me that never made it past his eyes. His lips parted as if to speak.

Then closed.

“…Yes, sir,” he replied, bowing his head.

Around them, several other Royal Guild Awakeneds exhaled, subtle, restrained sighs of relief. No one said it aloud, but everyone understood. This was a delicate matter. A single misstep here wouldn’t earn a reprimand, it could end careers. Or lives. Under a monarch as tyrannical as Eiskar’s, fear was routine, and obedience was survival.

The chosen young Awakened stepped back, posture rigid, then turned.

The moment he moved, He vanished.

Not in a flash. Not in a burst of mana. He simply blurred, his form smearing for a fraction of a second before disappearing entirely. Snow kicked up briefly where he had stood, then settled again as though undisturbed. To the pedestrians nearby, it looked like nothing more than a trick of the eye, a shadow shifting, a blink missed.

In reality, he was already moving.

Fast.

His body skimmed across rooftops and narrow alleys, footfalls so light they barely disturbed the frost. Mana wrapped tightly around him, suppressed, refined, controlled with precision born of long training. Just enough to enhance speed. Not enough to draw attention.

Below him, the royal carriage rolled steadily forward.

He kept pace with ease.

Always behind. Always above. Sometimes his reflection flickered faintly across a window before he slipped back into shadow, cloak snapping once before settling flush against his frame.

’Insane…’ he thought grimly, eyes never leaving the carriage.

The pressure from earlier still clung to him, a phantom weight pressing against his senses. Controlled. Clean. Suffocating.

S-Ranked suppression, at the very least.

’If he decides to act… I won’t stop him. I don’t want to die yet… Fuck the empress, fuck the royal guild and it’s stupid rules’

The thought settled like ice in his chest.

That was never his role.

He wasn’t here to win. He wasn’t here to confront. He was here to observe, to record, to report, to make sure that if something went wrong, the blame would fall exactly where it belonged.

As he leapt silently from one rooftop to the next, the city unfolding beneath him in cold, ordered lines, he let out a quiet breath.

’Please…’ he thought, jaw tightening. ’Just don’t make this complicated.’

Ahead, the carriage continued its steady path toward the heart of Eiskar, its rider unaware, or uncaring, of the shadow threading through the snow above.

And within it, Bruce and Duke had already noticed.

The presence. The eyes. The careful distance.

They said nothing. They didn’t look back.

They simply remained seated, unmoved, as the walls of Eiskar drew closer around them and the city’s true heart waited just ahead. It was as if they’ve not even noticed…