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

The heat dungeon’s interior felt different at E-rank.

The ambient heat was still present, still warm, still pressing in the dry quality Bruce remembered. But his soul-body now received it differently. At F-rank, the heat had been a thing to manage. At E-rank, the heat was information, he could read the air more clearly, sense the temperature gradients across the canyon, feel the warmer spots where a flame-mane had recently been resting against the wall and left its body heat soaked into the stone. He had more sensory bandwidth at this rank. He could see more of what the dungeon was actually doing.

Kael had stepped through and was visibly brighter.

His glow had deepened in the orange-amber air. He was breathing easily, almost smiling, the canyon’s natural alignment with his talent was significantly stronger at E-rank than it had been at F. The ambient heat was feeding him more, and at E-rank he had more capacity to hold what it gave him without overextending. He flexed his hands experimentally. Fire bloomed at his fingertips at a slightly higher temperature than yesterday’s morning practice, and he held it steady.

”Calibrated,” he said.

”Good.”

They moved into the canyon.

The first flame-mane pack came at them in the second chamber.

It was a smaller pack than the alpha pack of two days ago, four flame-manes, no alpha among them, an ordinary hunting cluster. The pack saw them and reacted with the now-familiar burning-mane flare and the deep groaning sound. They moved as a coordinated unit.

The fight, at E-rank, was easy.

Bruce had not expected it to be quite this easy. The flame-manes that had fought him hard three days ago, that had required him to commit fully to every kill, now moved at speeds his E-rank perception read clearly. He could see the small commit-points where each beast made its choice of attack. He could anticipate where they would be in half a second. He shaped his ink without effort and his bullets and small spears flew with greater precision, and the four flame-manes were down in under thirty seconds, two to him, one to Kael’s tight stream-technique, one to Theron’s scythe.

He stood there a moment afterward, slightly surprised.

”That was easy,” he said.

”That was easy,” Kael confirmed.

”They’re the same beasts that hurt us three days ago.”

”They’re the same beasts. We’re not the same hunters.”

Theron, walking up beside the others, was looking at the flame-mane he had killed. His scythe was still in his hand, and Bruce could see, in the way Theron was holding it, that something had been different about the kill. The blade had moved in a way the F-rank scythe had not moved.

”What was different?” Bruce asked him.

”I’m not sure yet. The cut found the joint cleaner than before. And, there was a small pull when the blade passed through. Like the scythe was taking something. More than usual.”

Bruce thought about it.

The essence absorption from the kill had been larger than it should have been from a single ordinary flame-mane. He had noticed this when the wave landed in him a moment ago, but he had thought it was simply the natural improvement of E-rank essence-flow. Now, looking at Theron’s face, he wondered if the scythe was specifically pulling more.

”Try the next kill,” he said. ”Pay attention to the pull. See if you can describe it.”

”I will.”

---

The next two hours were the smoothest hunting Bruce had done in this realm.

The flame-mane packs in the interior were dispatched with the practiced efficiency of an E-rank party that had spent four days perfecting its rhythm. Bruce shaped constructs faster than he had at F. Kael’s tight stream-technique was burning at higher temperatures and through scales that had given him trouble before. Theron’s scythe moved with a quiet new authority that was hard to describe, the blade not just cutting but taking, each kill pulling slightly more essence into him than the simple absorption-by-kill mechanic would have justified.

They found an alpha in the fourth chamber.

A smaller alpha than the one on day three, younger, less developed, with a single core rather than two, but an alpha nonetheless. It came at them with the full pack-leader’s coordination, calling its four packmates into a flanking attack that, at F-rank, would have been a serious threat.

At E-rank, it was a tactical exercise.

Bruce wrote slow in the air ahead of the lead packmate and threw the word at it. The word committed and struck and the flame-mane’s running gait suddenly slowed, the beast’s legs heavy, the talent’s effect imposing literal slowing on the creature for perhaps two seconds. Two seconds was enough. Kael’s fire-lance struck the slowed beast through the eye and ended it.

Theron took the second packmate with the scythe, and this time Bruce saw the pull.

The blade went through the flame-mane’s neck at the right angle, the same angle Theron had been finding for days, but as the cut completed, a small wisp of pale light came out of the dying beast and traveled along the scythe’s blade into Theron’s hand. The wisp was thin, almost invisible against the canyon’s amber light. But it was there. Bruce saw it clearly.

The scythe was extracting essence directly from the kill, beyond what the standard absorption mechanic provided.

Theron’s eyes had gone slightly wide.

”Did you see that?” he said.

”I saw it. The scythe is taking essence on the cut. It’s not waiting for the standard wave.”

”Is that, is that allowed?”

”It’s your talent. It’s doing what your talent does. The realm doesn’t have to allow talents. It just has them. Yours apparently does this.”

”It feels like cheating.”

”It’s not cheating. It’s a more efficient kill. You’re using more of what the beast had to offer. Other talents probably do similar things.” Bruce thought for a moment. ”You should ask the old soul tonight if they’ve seen a reaper-class talent before.”

Theron nodded slowly, still looking at the scythe.

The fight continued. Bruce wrote more small words. Hold on a flame-mane that tried to retreat. Open on the alpha’s flank, which split along its joint-seam without Bruce needing to cut. Slow on a third packmate. Kael’s fire-lance closed each opening Bruce’s words created. Theron’s scythe reaped.

The alpha was the last to fall.

The essence wave that came out of it was the proper alpha-scale wave, dense, sustained, longer than the standard packmate kills. But it was not as dense as the day-three alpha’s wave had been, because this alpha had a single core, not two. Bruce absorbed it cleanly. He felt his soul-body’s interior shift slightly with the integration, the width-essence settling into him, balancing yesterday’s depth, the foundation he had built up now being layered with reach. The combination produced a more complete kind of advancement-feel than either alone.

He was now, he realized, firmly into early E-rank rather than the threshold-crossing he had done last night. The morning’s settling had stabilized him at baseline E, and these two hours of hunting had built him a small but real step further into the rank.

He stood there for a moment in the canyon, taking it in.

”Good morning,” he said quietly.

”Good morning,” Kael agreed.

---

They butchered the kills with the new efficiency of their rings. Bruce, Kael, and Theron each took what they could carry into their compressed storage, and the rings, even the small ones, held the day’s haul with significant room to spare. Bruce could see, viscerally, why the larger rings were so valuable. The cubic meter of his ring would have been entirely full by the end of a heavier day. The two- and three-cubic-meter rings would have made multi-day excursions possible.

He filed that. A larger ring went on his list of long-term acquisitions.

They were halfway through butchering the alpha when Bruce felt it.

A presence.

It was at the edge of his expanded E-rank perception, at the very edge, where his soul-body’s sensory reach was just starting to fray. A soul. Watching. Standing somewhere back along the canyon, perhaps fifty paces away, behind a column or in shadow. Bruce could not pinpoint the exact location, but he could tell two things: the soul was significantly more powerful than the three of them, and the soul had been there for at least several minutes, possibly the entire alpha fight.

He did not look up from his butchering.

”Kael,” he said, very quietly. ”Behind us. Fifty paces. Someone is watching.”

Kael did not look up either. His butchering knife continued its work on the flame-mane he was processing.

”Strong?”

”Significantly. I’d estimate at least B-rank. Possibly A.”

”A B-rank watching three new E-ranks butcher an alpha.”

”Yes.”

”Hostile?”

Bruce considered the impression his perception was giving him.

”No,” he said. ”Or, not yet. The presence is observing. Patient. Not hunting us. Not maneuvering for an attack. Standing still and watching.”

”A quiet observer,” Kael said.

”A quiet observer.”

Theron, who had also paused his work, Theron’s perception at E-rank was not as wide as Bruce’s, but he had heard the conversation, said: ”What do we do?”