"Chirp…chirp."
My phone rattled on the nightstand. Another shift, another emergency.
I rubbed my eyes, grabbed it, and saw Christopher's email.
Case moved up. AAA at seven instead of eight. Added five post-ops. Starbucks waiting.
He added a wink emoji. Great. That meant chaos.
By the time I hit the hospital lot the air already smelled like rain and sanitizer. Third-floor elevator. Suite 310. Swipe. Code. Beep. Coffee first, sanity second.
Christopher popped his head in. "Girard's scrubbed into a trauma. You're running pre-op for Mrs. Smith."
I nodded, logged in, and opened her CT. Six-centimeter abdominal aorticaneurysm. Half a centimeter growth in two weeks. Not good.
"Got it," I said. "Let's move."
Inside exam one, Mrs. Smith sat on the edge of the table, gown crinkling.
"Good morning," I said, washing up. "I'm Corbin, assisting Dr. Girard. Any pain?"
"Just tired," she said.
I palpated gently. "Tender?"
"A little."
"Pulses are good. You'll do fine," I told her, more for her sake than mine.
Surgery ran smooth. Stent in, flow restored. ICU transfer clean.
Rounds. Charts. Coffee that tasted like burnt hope. Normal day.
By dusk, clinic lights dimmed. I sent my last dictation, shut down the computer, and texted back home. On my way.
Outside, the storm finally broke. Street lamps shimmered through the drizzle, halos of gold in the fog. That was when I saw him.
A man slumped beneath the far lamp, one hand pressed to his abdomen. Too much blood for a bar fight, not enough for a gunshot—yet.
Instinct took over. I ran.
"Sir? Can you hear me?"
Nothing. Just a wheeze. His clothes weren't right—stitched leather, wet with rain and blood. Medieval cosplay?
I knelt, set my bag down, and pressed two fingers to his neck. Weak pulse. Thready.
"Stay with me," I said. "I'm Corbin. I'm here to help."
I unzipped the bag, grabbed gauze, and pressed it against the wound. Blood soaked through almost instantly. "Damn it."
His eyes shot open, silver and sharp like polished steel. His hand clamped around my wrist.
"Healer… at last."
Light flared beneath us, faint at first, then roaring outward.
Lines of golden fire like energy raced through the cracks in the pavement, weaving a perfect circle around our bodies.
My phone buzzed once, I screamed, and everything went dark.
Pain hit like a live wire. My breath vanished. The world folded in on itself.
System Alert: New Host Detected. Initiating Transfer Protocol.
I woke on my back in grass that smelled like iron. The rain was gone, replaced with stars I didn't recognize and two moons hanging in a blood-red sky as a giant sun sank behind the horizon.
Transfer Protocol Completed.
Text burned across my vision in golden lettering.
System Notice: Magi Healer Class Acquired.
*Rank — Novice: Aura Reader.
"What the hell…? Am I dead? Dreaming?"
A groan answered me. The same man lay beside me, bleeding harder now. I crawled toward him on instinct.
The moment I reached out, light surged from my hands. Not white, not fire—something in between, alive and responsive. It cast shadows that moved on their own, the blue-white color of the hottest flame shifting toward crimson where it touched his blood, staunching the bleeding and sealing the wound.
I froze, staring at the glow crawling up my fingers. "This… isn't possible."
When I hovered my hand above the gash, I muttered, "This is a bleed. Pressure, clamp, stop the loss."
The air heated under my palm.
Skill Activated: Arcane Binder — Success.
EXP +2.
I jerked back. The bleeding slowed. The red dimmed.
"What the hell did I just do?"
The man's eyes opened again, clearer this time.
"You used the System," he said. His voice was rough but steady. "How?"
"I don't know. I just did what I always do to control a bleed."
He stared, disbelief tightening every word. "That is impossible. The System does not choose the untrained. We study for years before we're even allowed to be tested in the Great Hall of Magi."
"You're the one who dragged me here, old man," I said quietly. "Hope that helped your wound."
He winced, tried to sit up, and failed. "You are a Magi Healer. You should not exist."
"Where am I? What's a Magi Healer? And what do you mean I shouldn't exist?" I asked. "I'm as confused as you are."
He closed his eyes and exhaled a shaky laugh. "Name?"
"Corbin."
"Kael," he said.
A soft chime echoed in my mind.
Essence Weaver detected — Rank: Adept.
Kael's gaze flicked toward me. "I used my Magi System to search for anyone carrying the Healer bloodline. The System responded with you. If anyone discovers that it chose an untrained foreigner, they'll dissect you to find out why."
My pulse thudded in my ears. "Great. So you basically painted a target on my back. Sounds like this thing picks people by genetics or bloodlines."
Kael's smile was thin but real. "Welcome to the Magi Realm, Corbin. Let's hope you learn faster than you bleed. We're in the middle of a great war."
Text flared across my vision before I could answer.
System Hint: Next Skill Unlock — Essence Mapping. Training Recommended.
I swallowed hard. "So… did I take your System?"
Kael shook his head, glancing toward the horizon where lightning flashed purple against the clouds. Shadows moved in the distance, closing in.
"No," he said. "It's hard to explain." He pushed himself upright, eyes narrowing. "But first—" he nodded toward the shapes approaching through the grass "—we start with survival."