The world Kenji knew was lost. Ever since he was found in an abandoned village, completely disoriented, he had to face a new reality – a place where people had “classes”, such as farmer, warrior, or even king, something that resembled video games. However, this world was not a game; it was brutally real, full of pain, blood, and life-or-death decisions.

Kenji was now in the country called Regno di Lunargento , a kingdom that bordered the Regno di Sangueverde , his mortal enemy. Recruited into the army known as the Custodi della Luna , commanded by the tough and pragmatic general Fabrizio Baldo, Kenji was quickly thrown into the chaos of war. Luckily—or unluckily—for him, the raids on the border had ceased today, granting him a rare moment of respite.

With no battles in sight, Kenji headed to the sickroom to check on the survivors of the previous day’s fighting. He knew he couldn’t let infection spread. This world might have magical healers and miraculous potions, but those resources were scarce, and often all that was left was human skill—or, in his case, a skill that seemed to be supernaturally enhanced.

From the moment he treated his first patient, Kenji had been granted the Doctor class . It wasn’t like the RPGs he’d played in Okinawa; he didn’t see blue screens flashing in front of him or hear “level reached” sounds. Yet something profound and indescribable happened every time he took on a new, complicated case. Every time he saved someone—or even failed—he felt his mind and hands grow more agile, more precise, as if the knowledge was being engraved directly into his soul.

There was no magical ability in his class, no light or healing energy coming from his hands. What he had was the pure, raw result of years of studying in medical school and constantly learning about this unforgiving new world. Kenji found that the more challenging the case, the more he improved. It wasn’t visible, but he felt as if something inside him was growing—a strength, an almost instinctive understanding of the medical arts.

As he walked through the cramped hallways of the dormitory, Kenji noticed the curious—and sometimes suspicious—looks he still received. His body type was completely foreign to those people. Yellow skin, slanted eyes, short, straight hair; no one in the Regno di Lunargento had ever seen anyone like him. Most people had fair or dark skin, common characteristics of those lands. He was an enigma, a foreigner in a world he didn't understand, but was beginning to accept.

Kenji took a deep breath and looked around. This was not Japan. There were no hospitals with advanced equipment, no structured health care system. He was alone, with primitive tools, facing diseases and injuries he had never studied. But despite the fear and strangeness, Kenji began to realize that, somehow, he was becoming something bigger.

Even though he didn't know how or why he ended up there, he knew one thing: he had a mission. This world needed him, and he needed to find his place in it—not as a soldier, not as a magical healer, but as a Doctor .

After checking on the sick and injured, Kenji headed to the tent where the camp food was served. In the center of the space, a large cauldron was filled with the aroma of thick soup, with chunks of meat and vegetables floating in the hot liquid. The wooden bowl he was given was quite full, and while the taste was not memorable, it was acceptable—especially for someone who had no other choice.

As he ate in silence, a soldier approached his table and sat down unceremoniously.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

— Hello, Doctor. I'm Nunzio, from the front line. I've never seen anyone like you before — the man said, with a friendly and curious tone.

Kenji looked up, accustomed to such comments. “I’m not from here. Many people tell me that,” he replied, trying to keep the conversation brief.

— It's a good thing we have healers like you. If I got hurt, I knew I was in good hands.

Kenji frowned and corrected the man, “I’m not a healer. I’m a doctor.”

Nunzio shrugged, smiling. “To me, it’s all the same. You save lives, and that’s noble enough.”

The conversation changed tone when the soldier gave a lighthearted laugh. “At least the food is decent today. I couldn’t handle any more dried meat. It was nice meeting you, Doctor. Until next time.”

Kenji nodded silently as Nunzio walked away, returning to his meal. However, his attention was diverted by something that caught his eye: a woman entered the tent. She was dressed in simple clothes, but the object she held in her hands gave away her position. A thin wand, with crude inscriptions, rested in her fingers. Her skin was a dark brown, and her short hair framed a calm, serious face. She was clearly a healer, one of the few left in the army.

Kenji realized he had been staring at her for too long, as the woman shifted her gaze toward him. Their eyes met briefly, and Kenji, feeling uncomfortable, quickly lowered his head and focused on the last few spoonfuls of his soup.

There was something intriguing about her. Maybe it was the contrast between the magical methods she probably used and Kenji’s medical pragmatism. Or maybe it was simply the fact that, in a place so strange and far from home, he had finally met someone whose profession also involved saving lives. But he knew that sooner or later, their paths would cross in a more direct way—and he was both looking forward to and dreading that meeting.

After his meal, Kenji was summoned to General Fabrizio Baldo’s tent. Inside, the space was functional and austere, without any luxurious ornaments. On a large table, maps and wooden miniatures represented the battlefield. Makeshift canvas walls held stacks of papers and books, while a few weapons were leaning against the corners of the hut. Other healers were already present, including the brown-skinned woman he had noticed in the mess hall.

The general, a robust man with a stern gaze and imposing posture, began the meeting directly:

— I called everyone here to inform you that the alchemists' shipments of healing potions are delayed. This means that the available potions must be used with extreme caution. Only in cases of absolute necessity.

The news was met with dismay. The healers, already overwhelmed by the excess of wounded, now had to deal with a cruel limitation of resources. Some exchanged worried glances, while others kept their faces closed, knowing that protest would be futile.

Kenji, on the other hand, did not show the same reaction. He had never used healing potions before and did not even understand how they worked. To him, they were almost a legend in liquid form—something powerful yet mysterious. Being a pragmatist, he preferred to trust his own methods, but the idea of exploring how potions and magical healing worked began to germinate in his mind. Perhaps, with study, he could better understand this magical science and integrate it into his medical practices. But that would be for the future. Right now, he knew he did not have time to delve into the unknown.

— You are dismissed. Return to your duties — declared the general, ending the meeting.

Everyone left in silence, returning to their duties. Kenji walked slowly to the dormitory, his head full of thoughts. The shortage of potions wouldn’t directly affect his work, but he knew that the pressure on the healers would become unbearable. Without a doubt, the atmosphere in the camp would become even heavier, and the challenges they would face from now on would be grim.

As he lay on his makeshift bed, staring up at the canvas ceiling, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of doubt. Things were already complicated, but now they seemed to be spiraling even darker. He knew he would have to adapt quickly, as always, but what really bothered him was what might come next. In a world where magic and war intermingled, he was just a doctor trying to do what he could—and sometimes that didn’t seem to be enough.