Harold leaned against the wall, waterskin in hand, letting the cool liquid soothe the rawness in his throat.
His eyes wandered across the newly expanded space.
Two beds.
A partition.
The faint sense that his rough cave was becoming something more—something deliberate.
It felt less like a hiding hole now, and more like a place people could come to be healed.
A clinic.
The thought still made him chuckle.
Him, Harold Greene, who once couldn't pass biology without cramming all night, now a doctor in an alien world, rather than just a janitor unable to even be allowed to perform the simples of medical things.
But the system didn't hand out upgrades for nothing.
If it had given him more space, more tools, more responsibility… it expected him to use them.
And then the memory hit him—sharp, sudden.
The last time he'd ranked up.
He hadn't just received space or perks.
He'd been offered new skills.
"Wait a second."
He straightened, pulling the interface wide again.
His gaze darted to the glowing Resident title at the top.
Sure enough, next to it pulsed a small + symbol.
Heart racing, Harold tapped it.
A new window blossomed before his eyes:
Choose 3 New Skills to Expand Your Practice.
Below the words, six icons shimmered into being.
IV Insertion
Pharmacology
Nasya Therapy (Aroma)
Herbal Medicine
Acupuncture
Moxibustion
Harold sucked in a breath.
Once more three skills he'd seen as options before along with three new ones to replace those he'd previously chosen.
"Holy… okay. This is big."
His fingers hovered over the list.
His first instinct was to just grab whatever sounded useful—but something told him to be careful.
Every choice here could shape his practice, maybe even his survival.
So he closed his eyes, whispered, "System… show me the basics,"
and the knowledge came.
Unlike last time where he relied on his own vague perception of each skill, the system gave him a tutorial of sorts, just a flash of memories like he had simply googled what each one was.
IV Insertion.
Images filled his mind: a vein pricked, a line fed into the body, clear fluid dripping into a bag.
Rehydration.
Blood transfusion.
Life support.
His thoughts flashed to the alien's cracked lips, it's labored breaths.
A saline drip might have saved Harold an hour of desperation.
Yeah.
That one was a no-brainer.
Pharmacology.
A cabinet materialized in his vision, rows of pill bottles and vials.
Painkillers.
Antibiotics.
Anti-inflammatories.
The system whispered of crude but effective concoctions it could summon on demand, scaled to his level, by level 10 perhaps he'd have a cureall?.
Harold nearly laughed aloud.
"Actual medicine. Not just bandages and spit."
This wasn't optional either.
Nasya Therapy (Aroma).
A mist of scented herbs swirled in his imagination, oils dripped onto stone burners.
Calming nerves.
Clearing sinuses.
Regulating breath.
Interesting, but… compared to real medicine?
He wasn't convinced.
Herbal Medicine.
Roots, powders, poultices.
Crushed leaves spread across wounds.
Teas brewed for fevers.
Primitive at least by western standards, maybe, but potentially valuable when experimented with enough, even Harold had heard the West was looking into Chinese Medicine as a way to advance their own further.
A supplement to science with tradition layered in.
"Not bad," Harold murmured, filing it away.
Acupuncture.
Fine needles pressing into points across the body.
Channels of energy, balance restored, pain eased.
Harold flinched.
He'd barely handled stitching needles without shaking.
The thought of deliberately stabbing a dozen or more into someone on purpose?
"Maybe… later," he muttered.
Moxibustion.
Heat.
A smoldering herb rolled into sticks, burned near the skin, warmth seeping deep into tissues.
Pain melted.
Circulation restored.
A therapy not just of air like aroma, but of fire.
Harold sat up straighter.
That sounded… potent.
Primitive or not compared to Western medicine, it worked.
The knowledge whispered as much.
He exhaled slowly, weighing them all.
IV Insertion was essential.
No argument.
Pharmacology… lifesaving.
Game-changing.
The third was trickier.
Herbal Medicine was versatile, but Moxibustion had a power he couldn't ignore.
Aroma was too soft.
Acupuncture too... well useless.
"Yeah," Harold muttered. "IV, drugs, and fire sticks. That'll do."
He tapped the three choices.
The interface pulsed, locking his decision.
[New Skills Acquired!]
IV Insertion [Level 0]
Pharmacology [Level 0]
Moxibustion [Level 0]
The sight of his three new skills, newly granted to him by the system awaiting his testing and experimentation along with use to earn experience in them to further their potential.
And with them came new summons.
Harold held out a hand.
At once, a bundle shimmered into being: a basic IV kit.
The kit itself a catheter, then some simple rubber or latex tubing, and lastly three different syringes filled with different fluids, one clear, one slightly yellow, and the last well it was cloudy like someone had captured ice in liquid form.
His breath caught.
"Holy hell."
Opening the kit he could tell the needle was real, not some garbage pulled from the dust bin of history, sure it wasnt the thin gauge needles used in modern times but it was easily usable for IV needs.
The fluids concerned him a bit since he didnt know what they were, but considering that the skill was only level 0 their contents couldnt possibly be anyhting lethal.
The clear one he deduced was most likely Saline, basically just salt and water meant to rehydrate someone.
The yellow one, probably the 'banana bag' slung on just about every iv chain to replenish vitamins and minerals in a patient.
Meanwhile the last one, cloudy water like substance, he did know, but upon squirting a bit on his finger and giving it a quick taste.
Sugar Water!
Something like the other two, to treat low bloodsugar.
With shaking hands, he dismissed it and tried Pharmacology next.
A simple cabinet hold five bottle of differing colors appears.
Sliding open the glass door he pulled all five out.
Turning each bottle over, mouth getting dry.
"Pills. Actual pills."
Names etched on the bottles in their long ass medical names but some of them Harold new due to his constant use of them in his daily life.
Acetaminophen (Tylenol)
Ibuprofen (Advil)
Ramelteon (Rozerem)
Ranitidine (Zantac)
Loratadine (Claratin)
Quickly cateloguing each in his mind: Pain & fever, Pain & Anti-Inflametory, Sleep Aid, Heart burn & acid reflux, and Allergy relief.
He dismissed them too, then finally tried Moxibustion.
A pair of rolled herbs materialized in his hand, bound tight, smelling faintly of things he couldnt place, ultimately this skill would be difficult to gain experience with since he knew nothing about Moxibustion and even more so the herbs contained within these rolls.
When he thought about lighting them, a faint warmth pulsed at the tip, glowing like an ember.
both rolls had self ignited upon his desire.
The darker brown roll, upon breathing it in and placing the smoldering roll against his skin, felt increadibly at ease, like he was on the verge of entering a state of meditation.
Then switching over to the other, well he didnt feel anything at all, no change no difference.
Puzzled, Harold could only for the time being conclude that either this particular blend was for use on injured subjects, or those of another gender.
Harold set it down gently, staring at the three tools lined up before him.
Needles for veins.
Pills for just about everything.
Fire for relaxation and perhaps pain.
His chest tightened.
"This… this changes everything."
He leaned back, running a hand through his hair.
When he first woke in this world, he'd been helpless.
A cave.
A stone table.
Rusty tools that vanished the second he dropped them.
Now?
He had a clinic.
Beds.
Bandages.
A real surgeon's kit.
And medicine—actual medicine.
It was more than progress.
It was legitimacy.
And it terrified him, because if the system was equipping him like this… it meant worse patients were coming.
People, monsters, whoever—they'd come to his door broken, bleeding, dying.
And the system expected him to save them.
Harold closed his eyes, forcing a breath past the weight in his chest.
"…Fine. If that's the game, then I'll play it."
But deep down, he couldn't shake the thought.
What happens when even this isn't enough?