SSS-Ranked Surgeon In Another World: The Healer Is Actually OP! - Chapter 267: A Pact Without Guarantees
Chapter 267: A Pact Without Guarantees
But then, The Traveler went into deep thought and laughed.
A full, unrestrained laugh burst out of him, echoing through the quieter corner of the café and drawing more than a few curious glances from nearby tables. He leaned back in his chair, shoulders shaking, one hand coming up to wipe the corner of his eye as though the amusement were genuinely overwhelming.
“Hahaha!” he said again, breathless. “You really are something else.”
Then, just like that, the laughter stopped.
It wasn’t gradual. It didn’t fade. It just ended abruptly. The air shifted with it. Bruce didn’t know why he was laughing but he didn’t bother asking.
The carefree slouch in his posture straightened slightly, not stiff, not rigid, but aligned, like a blade settling back into its sheath. The lazy amusement in his eyes sharpened into something older. Heavier. Something that had nothing to do with humor and everything to do with survival. The kind of seriousness only someone who had watched worlds fracture and civilizations erase themselves could carry so calmly.
“Like I said before I’ll help you,” the Traveler said.
Bruce didn’t interrupt. He didn’t nod. He didn’t thank him.
He listened.
“But don’t misunderstand,” the Traveler continued, voice steady now, stripped of playfulness. “I’m not your subordinate. I’m not your guide. And I’m definitely not your shield.”
He lifted his cup and took a slow sip, eyes never leaving Bruce’s face.
“I won’t protect you from fatal mistakes. If you walk into death because of arrogance, stupidity, or hesitation, that’s on you.”
Bruce nodded once.
“I will open doors,” the Traveler went on. “I’ll connect threads. I’ll point out paths you might not see. But I won’t fight your wars for you.”
His gaze sharpened further, piercing in a way that felt less like pressure and more like truth.
“And if you hesitate, if you lose resolve halfway through,” the corner of his mouth curled faintly, “I walk away. After all, as much as invaders are very much interesting, good things of life are more fun.”
There was no threat in his tone. Only certainty.
Bruce met his gaze without flinching.
“That’s fine,” he said simply.
The Traveler studied him for a long moment, searching, not for bravado, not for confidence, but for cracks. He found none. Then he chuckled softly.
“Good,” he said. “That’s exactly the answer I wanted.”
He leaned back again, though the weight in the air didn’t fully dissipate this time. The mood had shifted permanently, like crossing a threshold you couldn’t step back over.
“Now,” he continued, swirling the remnants of his coffee, “about those dirty kingdoms.”
Bruce’s focus sharpened immediately.
“There are places in Velmora that feel… off,” the Traveler said, his tone casual, almost idle, as if the thought had only just occurred to him. He didn’t look at Bruce at first, instead watching the slow swirl of coffee in his cup. “Not dangerous. Not unstable. Just… misaligned.”
He tilted the cup slightly, then set it down.
“I’ve traveled long enough to notice patterns,” he continued. “Most kingdoms change in small, predictable ways. Borders shift. Power changes hands. Mana densities rise and fall. Even chaos has a rhythm.”
Bruce listened without interrupting.
“But every now and then,” the Traveler said, “you find a place that doesn’t change. Not really.”
He raised a finger, not to emphasize a point, but as if counting a personal checklist.
“Take bustling regions,” he said. “Trade-heavy areas. Population centers. They’re messy. Loud. Full of contradictions. If something goes wrong there, it leaks out quickly, rumors, unrest, accidents. You feel it long before anyone admits it.”
His finger lowered.
“Then there are remote places. Quiet ones. Kingdoms that keep to themselves.” He shrugged lightly. “Those don’t worry me either. Isolation breeds problems, sure, but it also makes them obvious when they finally surface.”
He finally looked at Bruce.
“What unsettles me are places that sit in between.”
Bruce’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Stable,” the Traveler continued. “Efficient. Predictable. No spikes. No dips. No irregular reports. Year after year, everything looks… reasonable.”
A faint smile crossed his lips, but there was no humor in it.
“Too reasonable.”
Bruce understood the implication immediately.
“There’s a kingdom like that in the north,” the Traveler said, as if stating a passing thought. “Cold climate. Low population mobility. Strong institutions. Strict social expectations.”
He let the silence linger before naming it.
“Eiskar.”
The name settled quietly between them.
“Harsh winters. Harsh discipline,” the Traveler went on. “People there don’t complain much. They don’t panic. They endure.” He leaned back slightly. “From the outside, it looks admirable. Ideal, even.”
Bruce waited.
“But when a place prides itself on endurance,” the Traveler said, “it also gets very good at ignoring discomfort.”
He tapped the table once.
“Eiskar hasn’t reported anything unusual. No resource shortages. No political friction. No irregular dungeon activity. Nothing worth raising an eyebrow.”
He met Bruce’s gaze again.
“That’s exactly why it does.”
Bruce exhaled slowly.
“I’m not saying something is wrong,” the Traveler added, raising a hand slightly. “Not yet. Just that if you want to understand how Velmora really works, how kingdoms respond to pressure before it becomes visible, Eiskar is a good place to start.”
He took another sip of coffee.
“Think of it as a baseline,” he said. “A place where everything is supposedly ’fine.’”
A faint grin tugged at his lips.
“If even that feels strange once you’re there,” he said, “then you’ll know your instincts aren’t lying.”
Bruce nodded slowly.
“So take tonight,” the Traveler finished. “Look into Eiskar. Its structure. Its leadership. Its customs. Nothing dramatic, just understand how it’s supposed to function.”
He leaned back, relaxed once more.
“Tomorrow,” he added lightly, “we’ll go see it for ourselves.”
He lifted his cup again, finishing it.
“In the morning, I’ll come get you. And with Vaelith’s help, we’ll teleport straight to Eiskar.”
They ordered another round after that.
The conversation drifted, but never became meaningless. The Traveler shared anecdotes, kingdoms that ignored early signs, rulers who dismissed strange behavior as coincidence, entire regions that vanished because no one wanted to be the first to panic. None of it sounded like warnings. They sounded like memories.
By the time they finished, the cups were empty, the café quieter, the night deepened beyond the windows.
They stood and stepped outside together.
Lantern light reflected faintly off the stone pavement, the city subdued at this hour. The Traveler stretched, hands clasped behind his head like a man preparing for a leisurely walk rather than the opening move of something far larger.
“Well then,” he said casually, “get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be cold.”
And then, he vanished.
No flash. No ripple. No farewell. Just gone.
Bruce didn’t react.
He already knew the Traveler could teleport freely. And considering his eccentric nature, disappearing without warning felt almost polite by comparison.
Still, Bruce let out a slow breath.
“He’s SSS-rank…” he muttered quietly.
As expected of the legendary Traveler.
Despite the jokes. Despite the indulgence. Despite the wild, wandering behavior.
Bruce knew better than to underestimate him.
Not even for a second.
Meanwhile, Bruce didn’t linger.
The moment the Traveler vanished, he turned and moved, his body blurring as he cut through the sleeping streets of Valkrin. The city barely had time to acknowledge him. Buildings slipped past like shadows, lantern light stretching into pale streaks as distance collapsed beneath his feet. The night air rushed against his face, cold and sharp, grounding him even as his speed climbed.
Despite the velocity.
His thoughts lagged behind.
The rules were simple. That was what unsettled him.
By the time he reached the compound, the lights were still on.
Home.
He slowed instinctively, momentum bleeding away as he stepped inside. The moment the door closed behind him, something in his chest loosened, a tension he hadn’t realized he was still carrying.
Lucy was in the kitchen.
Warm light spilled across the room, and the scent of freshly cooked food hung in the air, simple, familiar, comforting. Nothing extravagant. Just the kind of meal made to mark the end of a long day.
“You’re back,” Lucy said, glancing up with a small, tired smile.
Bruce nodded. “Yeah.”
Lily was already seated at the table, legs swinging beneath her chair, eyes bright despite the late hour. Ash perched beside her, tail flicking lazily, posture relaxed in a way it never was anywhere else.
“Big brother!” Lily said, grinning. “You’re late!”
Bruce chuckled softly as he took his seat. “Sorry. Got held up.”
They ate together.
Lily filled the space with her voice, excitedly recounting everything she’d done that day, training, snacks, Ash’s antics, her words tumbling over one another without pause. Lucy listened, occasionally chiming in, mentioning with quiet disbelief how viral her advertisement had gone, how it had drawn more attention than she’d ever expected.
But more than anything, she watched Bruce.
She noticed the stillness in him. The way his focus drifted even as he listened. The weight he carried beneath his calm.
She didn’t press.
