Harold stared at the lineup of new tools until his stomach growled, breaking the spell.
Needles, pills, and smoking herb-sticks.
They were all well and good—but theory alone wouldn't save anyone.
If the system expected him to heal, then he had to know his tools worked.
And the only way to do that… was practice.
Problem was, he couldn't exactly jab himself with an IV, swallow random pills until he keeled over, or burn his own flesh with glowing sticks.
Well okay he could, but to do so would injure himself and for all he knew he'd gain a reduced amount of experience compared to animal testing or real patients.
He needed a subject.
Something alive.
His gaze slid toward the cave mouth, the faint hum of wind beyond.
"…Guess it's time to go hunting."
The knife left behind by the warrior felt heavy but reassuring in his grip.
Crude iron, barely balanced, but far better than rocks alone.
Harold tied it to his belt with a strip of cloth, then stuffed a few palm-sized stones into his satchel.
He wasn't a hunter.
Back home, the only thing he'd ever caught was a bad flu after working double shifts.
But the system had changed him.
He could feel it—his body humming with energy, stamina that hadn't been there before.
His legs didn't tremble at the thought of walking for hours.
His lungs did burn as he crested the hills far outside his cavernous home.
Resident rank hadn't just boosted his medical skills.
It had boosted him.
Where his transferance had brought him back to his youth, rank one returned him to the same physical state his youth had had, while rank two enhanced him.
The forest was quieter this time, though the rustle of unseen creatures kept Harold on edge.
He picked his way along a game trail, eyes scanning for movement, ears straining for the guttural clicks he'd come to associate with the Rellke.
He didn't wait long.
A mottled shape darted across the underbrush ahead—low to the ground, four limbs propelling it like a giant guina pig.
Its ridged back shone faintly in the filtered light.
Harold's pulse quickened.
That'll do.
He crouched, palming a stone.
The creature paused, head swiveling, its eyes scanning the brush.
It hadn't seen him yet.
"Alright, Greene," Harold whispered. "One shot. Don't screw this up."
He hurled the stone.
The rock cracked against the Rellke's skull with a sickening thud.
The creature screeched, staggered, but even as accurate as the blow was it hadnt toppled the beast, so another stone was loosed, striking its shoulder, until finally a third once more struck its head.
The beast toppled with a hiss.
Before it could recover, Harold brought the knife hilt down hard on its head.
Once.
Twice.
Until the light in its eyes dimmed and its body sagged, twitching but unconscious.
He stood over it, chest heaving, then let out a shaky laugh.
"…Stronger. Definitely stronger."
Dragging the limp Rellke back to the cave should've been brutal, but Harold's arms didn't tire, well he did a bit, but before he'd be completly nackered for a while, now he was just winded.
His breath came steady after a moment.
The system had tuned him up, and for the first time, he felt almost grateful for it.
Back inside, Harold hauled the beast onto the stone desk.
The straps of bandage cloth stretched tight across its torso and limbs, pinning it down.
It groaned faintly, still dazed but alive.
"Sorry, buddy," Harold muttered. "Science demands sacrifices."
He pulled the IV kit into being.
The tubing coiled across the desk, the cloudy, yellow, and clear solutions resting like a lineup of experiments waiting to be run.
He swallowed hard.
Alright. Let's see if I remember this right.
He prodded along the Rellke's forelimb until he found a pulsing vein—or at least, what looked like one.
The anatomy wasn't human, but the system had given him enough of a push to recognize structures.
The needle slid in smoother than he expected, almost too smooth.
The vein accepted the catheter with a faint hiss, and the tubing filled as he attached the first syringe.
Clear liquid. The saline equivalent.
It slowly entered into the creature's bloodstream, nothing changed really, though the beast wasnt dehydrated so that makes sense, then next he tried the sugar water, and in comparison the beast burst awake after he emptied the syringe.
"…Holy crap. It works."
Using the knife hilt to once more knock it unconcious.
He swapped the sugar water for the yellow syringe, then hesitated.
He didn't want to overload the poor thing, but curiosity burned.
The drip began again, once more nothing changed, which if it was vitamins unless it was sick nothing would change.
Harold removed the line, pressing cloth against the puncture.
The system flashed:
[IV Insertion +5 EXP]
A grin split his face.
Next: pills.
He summoned the Pharmacology cabinet again, plucking out the brown bottle of acetaminophen. "Pain relief," he muttered. "Let's see how universal you really are."
Crushing the tablet between two stones, he carefully pried the Rellke's jaw open and sprinkled the powder onto its tongue.
The beast twitched, gagged, then swallowed reflexively.
Minutes passed.
The Rellke's strained facial ridges slackened.
Its groaning quieted.
"…No way." Harold leaned closer. "It actually worked."
Not perfectly, maybe not fully, but enough to dull the creature's pain.
He stared at the cabinet in awe.
Pills.
Real medicine, adjusted to alien physiology by whatever miracle the system was running.
This was beyond luck.
This was… cheating.
Finally, the Moxibustion rolls.
Harold lit the darker one, the ember glowing faint red.
A gentle warmth seeped into the air, not smoke exactly but something between incense and heat lamp.
He hovered the roll near the Rellke's midsection, watching as its tense muscles relaxed beneath the glow.
Its breathing deepened, more rhythmic than before.
"…Okay, that's freaky."
Switching to the second roll, Harold repeated the test.
This time, nothing.
No change.
The creature didn't react at all.
He frowned, chewing his lip.
"So the first's for calming, maybe pain. The second… for something else. Something I haven't figured out yet."
Still, two out of three wasn't bad.
When he finally leaned back, Harold's whole body trembled—not from exhaustion, but from exhilaration.
The IV had rehydrated the beast.
The pill had eased its pain.
The smoking herb had soothed it.
All three worked.
And more than that, they'd given him confidence.
Not blind hope, but proof.
The system wasn't just tossing random junk at him.
It was giving him tools with purpose.
Tools that could save lives.
He glanced at the restrained Rellke, still alive, still breathing steady.
For the first time since waking in this nightmare, Harold felt something bloom inside his chest.
Not just hope.
Control.
He could shape this place.
He could fight back—not with swords or brute force, but with medicine, with care, with healing.
And maybe… just maybe… that was the sharpest weapon of all.