?I lay on the sofa, eyes closed, waiting for the world to stop spinning. The blue tint had finally receded, leaving my vision crisp, but the "Status Window" was playing hard to get. Every time I tried to focus on it, it flickered and vanished, like a bad Wi-Fi signal. Ding.
?"Ashru! Stop staring at the fan and come eat!" my mother yelled from the kitchen. "Zoya is here. She brought those medicinal roots you like."
?I groaned, pushing myself up. Zoya was our neighbor, a woman who believed every ailment from a broken leg to a heart attack could be cured with ginger tea and "positive vibrations."
?I walked into the kitchen, shielding my eyes from the afternoon sun. Zoya was sitting at the small wooden table, her colorful scarf trailing into a bowl of lentils. Beside her sat her son, Rauf, a kid who was currently trying to see how many grapes he could fit in his mouth at once.
?"Oh, look at him," Zoya lamented, reaching out to pinch my cheek. I winced. "The future doctor, broken by a scooter. I told your mother, you need to carry a piece of black tourmaline. It absorbs the negative energy of traffic."
?"I think it was the kinetic energy of the pavement that got me, Aunt," I muttered, sliding into a chair.
?My mother set a plate of steaming rice in front of me. "Eat. You’re thin as a needle. No wonder the scooter won."
?I picked up my spoon, but my gaze drifted to Zoya. She was rubbing her shoulder and repetitive flinch in her right eye.
?Focus, I thought. Show me something.
?But nothing happened. I squinted at her, trying to trigger the "Observation" skill from the hospital.
?"Why are you looking at me like that?" Zoya asked, pausing mid-sentence. "Is my aura muddy?"
?"He's just concussed," my mother sighed.
?Suddenly, a semi-transparent pane of glass snapped into existence six inches from my nose. It didn't float on the ceiling; it moved with my pupils.
?
?I blinked. The text was snarky, but it was right.
?"Aunty," I said, my voice sounding more 'medical student' than I intended. "Does your arm tingle when you reach for things? Like, on the top shelf?"
?Zoya paused, her hand hovering over her tea. "How did you know? I thought it was just the humidity. It’s been biting at me for a week."
?"It’s not the humidity," I said. I reached out, my fingers moving before my brain could second-guess the choice. I touched the edge of her acromion process.
?"Ow! Careful, doctor!" Zoya yelped, though she didn't pull away.
?"Ashru, leave her alone," my mother warned, pointing a spatula at me. "She’s a guest, not a cadaver."
?"I'm just checking," I argued. "Aunt, you’ve been using that 'healing' copper bracelet on your right wrist, right? The heavy one?"
?"Yes, it aligns the—"
?"It weighs half a pound and you’re wearing it on a joint that’s already inflamed," I interrupted. I could practically see the anatomy diagram overlaid on her skin, the supraspinatus tendon being pinched every time she moved. "Take it off for three days. Use a cold pack. Not a hot one, a cold one."
?Zoya looked skeptical. "But the vibrations—"
?"The vibrations are currently causing a 2-millimeter swelling in your tendon," I lied. I had no idea if it was 2 millimeters, but it sounded professional. The System flickered again.
?I suppressed a scowl. "Just try it. If it doesn't work, you can go back to the tourmaline."
?Zoya slowly unclipped the heavy copper band. "Well... if the doctor says so."
?My mother watched us, her expression softening just a fraction. She didn't say it, but I saw the way she looked at my hands—the way they hadn't shaken when I touched Zoya's shoulder.
?I went back to my rice, the blue-tinted window finally dissolving into the background.
After Zoya and her "vibrating" copper bracelet left, the house settled into a post-lunch lethargy. My mother had retreated to her room for a nap, leaving me alone with the silence and the crushing weight of a half-finished textbook.
?I sat at my old desk, the one with "Ashru is a genius" scratched into the corner from when I was seven. I opened Robbins Basic Pathology. The smell of old paper and ink usually triggered a Pavlovian response of dread, but today, I needed to know if I was actually going crazy.
?I stared at a diagram of the cardiac cycle.
?Come on. Do something.
?Nothing. Just a static drawing of a heart.
?"Maybe it only works on living things," I whispered. I leaned closer, squinting until my eyes watered. "Work, you piece of—"
?ding.
?The window slammed into my field of vision like a bird hitting a windshield.
?I adjusted my spine reflexively. As my eyes scanned the text, the words began to lift off the page. They didn't just stay as black ink; they glowed with a faint, bioluminescent pulse. The diagram of the heart started to beat, thump-thump, thump-thump, syncing with the rhythm of my own pulse.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
?I reached out to touch the "beating" heart on the page. My finger passed through the light. It wasn't physical, but the System responded by zooming in, showing the microscopic death of cells, the way the nuclei shriveled and disappeared. It was like watching a high-definition horror movie in the palm of my hand.
?"This is..."
?Vroom. Vroom-vroom!
?A loud engine cut through my concentration. The glowing heart shattered into pixels. The status window flickered.
?I looked out the window. A bright red motorcycle, far too expensive for our neighborhood, was idling in the driveway. A man wearing a leather jacket that was clearly two sizes too small was struggling to kick stand it.
?Kyron. My cousin. He was the kind of guy who sold "miracle supplements" and claimed he was one deal away from being a millionaire.
?I closed my book and headed to the door before he could wake my mother. I met him on the porch.
?"Ashru! The hero!" Kyron shouted, pulling off his helmet to reveal hair that was gelled. He tried to clap me on the shoulder, but I ducked. "I heard you took down a criminal syndicate with your bare hands!"
?"I got hit by a scooter, Kyron. There was no syndicate."
?"Details, details." He leaned against his bike, wincing slightly as he adjusted his position. "Listen, since you’re practically a doctor now, look at this. My leg’s been acting up since I started the new gym routine. It’s probably just too much muscle growth, you know?"
?He hiked up his trouser leg. I didn't even have to try this time. The System snapped to attention.
?I looked at the skin. It was stretched, and had a faint dusky hue.
?"Does it hurt when you flex your foot?" I asked, pointing to his toes.
?"A little. Why? Is it a 'gains' thing?"
?"Flex it. Now."
?Kyron pulled his toes toward his shin. He let out a sharp yelp, his face turning pale. "Ow! Okay, that... that’s a lot of 'gains' pain."
?The window turned a deep, cautionary amber.
?"Kyron, how long was that bus ride you took to the city last week?" I asked, my heart starting to race.
?"Twelve hours. Why? I got a great deal on the ticket."
?"And you didn't get up once?"
?"I had the window seat, Ashru. I didn't want to lose it."
?I looked at the bike. The heavy vibration of the engine, the long ride over here... if that clot broke loose and traveled to his lungs, he’d be dead before he could finish his next sales pitch.
?"Don't move," I said, my voice low. "Don't even twitch that leg."
?"What? Why? You're acting weird."
?"Mom!" I yelled, turning toward the house. "MOM! Get the car keys! We’re going to the ER!"
?My mother appeared at the door, rubbing her eyes. "What? Why are you shouting?"
?"Kyron has a clot," I said, grabbing his arm to steady him. "If he kicks that bike again, he’s a dead man."
?Kyron looked at me, his mouth hanging open. For the first time in his life, he was actually quiet.
Kyron was whining and my mother was doing frantic prayers while I was driving. Kiron sat in the back, his leg propped up on a pile of reusable grocery bags, looking like a man awaiting execution.
?"I have a meeting at six, Ashru," Kyron groaned. "This 'clot' thing is going to kill my commission."
?"It’s going to kill you if it reaches your lungs," I snapped, eyes fixed on the road.
?The System flickered at the edge of my vision, warning red.
?I ignored it. We skidded into the Emergency Department drop-off zone. I helped Kyron out, his weight leaning heavily on my shoulder. Inside, the ER was a mess of screaming toddlers and the smell of industrial-grade bleach.
?The triage nurse didn't even look up from her monitor. "Chest pain or shortness of breath?"
?"Suspected DVT," I said, my voice cracking slightly. "Positive Homan’s sign. History of prolonged immobilization, twelve-hour bus ride."
?The nurse paused, her eyes shifting from the screen to me. She looked at my wrinkled shirt and the bandage on my head. "Are you a doctor?"
?"Medical student," I said. "3rd year."
?She sighed, the 'professional' wall sliding back into place. "Take a seat. We’ll call him when a bed opens up."
?"He doesn't have time to sit!" I blurted out. "If that thrombus dislodges—"
?"Student," she interrupted, her voice like ice. "We have three heart attacks and a stabbing in the back. Your cousin has a sore leg. Sit. Down."
?I felt my face heat up. Behind her, a young man in a white coat(an intern) looking like he’d been awake since the previous century, was flipping through charts. He glanced at us, then at the nurse.
?"What's the issue?" he asked.
?"Student diagnosis," the nurse muttered.
?The intern, whose badge read Dr. Aris, walked over. He looked at Kyron’s leg, then at me. He looked bored. "You’re the one who got hit by the scooter, right? The 'Viagra' kid?"
?My soul nearly left my body. The medical community was a gossipy circle of hell.
?"That... that was a misunderstanding," I whispered.
?"Look," I said, stepping closer to Aris, lowering my voice. "The calf is three centimeters larger than the left. There’s pitting edema. He’s been on a motorcycle for an hour. The vibrations..."
?Aris leaned down, squeezed Kyron’s calf, and watched the skin stay indented where his thumb had pressed. His boredom flickered, replaced by a spark of professional curiosity.
?"Flex your foot," Aris commanded.
?Kyron did. The scream he let out made half the waiting room jump.
?Aris straightened up, his eyes meeting mine. He wasn't laughing about the Viagra anymore. "Nurse, get him into Bed 4. Call for a STAT bedside ultrasound and start a heparin drip."
?The nurse didn't argue this time. She moved. As they wheeled Kyron away, Aris stayed behind for a second. He tapped his pen against his clipboard. "Good catch, kid. But next time, lead with the 'pitting edema' and skip the 'vibrations' theory. Sounds a bit... New Age."
?"Right. Thanks," I said.
?The System chimed. A golden glow washed over the center of my vision, far more pleasant than the red.
?I sank into a plastic waiting room chair, my legs finally giving out. My mother sat next to me, clutching her purse. She looked at me for a long time, then reached out and smoothed my hair.
?"You really knew," she whispered.
?"The book knew, Mom," I said, closing my eyes.
?But as the blue window faded into the back of my mind, I knew the book didn't show me the heart beating on the page. The book didn't tell me Zoya’s shoulder was drooping.
?I wasn't just studying medicine anymore. I was seeing it, and the more I saw, the more I realized how much could go wrong in a single heartbeat.
?I fell asleep in the hard plastic chair, the distant sound of the ultrasound machine hummed in my dreams like a lullaby.
An alien lab rat gets a second chance on Earth. The catch? It's already been invaded.
Nim is a living weapon, conditioned to execute orders. Without directives, she's lost.
Ahkita is on the run from his own tribe. Hiding among humanity's survivors, he swears to save them from the Matriarch and her summons of blood and ice.
If only the cryptic voice didn't declare him [Support].
Discarded, hunted, and thrown together, they could be unstoppable. Too bad their powers annihilate on contact.
He shields. She destroys. And somewhere in another dimension, a newborn System tends its crop.
What to expect:
- ■ Alternating Dual POV
- ■ Humanoid Alien Leads
- ■ Silly DPS & Support Dynamic
- ■ Grounded Stat-Lite System
- ■ Distinct Progression
- ■ Multilayered Plot
- ■ Slow Burn Partnership
- ■ No Harem