Reincarnated as an Ork, and the System Wants Me to Be a Doctor?!

The boy's trembling hadn't stopped. His fever burned high, his breath came in short, gasping pants, and his body jerked with uncontrolled spasms. His mother clutched his hand, whispering prayers Ghaz didn't recognize.

This wasn't just an infection. It wasn't poison, either.

It was his nerves.

Ghaz frowned, recalling his past life—the way certain illnesses could scramble the body's internal signals, turning limbs into twitching, unresponsive messes. Back then, he had tools. Scans, medicine, procedures.

Now?

Now, he had magic.

He inhaled, focusing on the flickering pulse of mana in his body. The Nerve Stitcher ability wasn't just a name—it was instinct, knowledge pressing at the edges of his mind, waiting to be used.

"Hold him still," Ghaz muttered.

The mother hesitated, but when he met her eyes, she obeyed, pressing her thin arms around her son's twitching form. Ghaz placed his hands on the boy's forehead and chest, letting his mana flow.

He could feel it—the chaotic signals misfiring in the boy's body, his nerves screaming conflicting orders. Too much activity, too much strain.

Alright. Time to fix that.

Ghaz focused, weaving his mana like a surgeon steadying a shaking hand. Slowly, carefully, he dampened the overactive signals, quieting the storm within the boy's body.

The tremors eased. The erratic breathing slowed.He was reducing the number of signals fired to an optimal amount.

The fever receded.

The mother gasped as her son's body relaxed, his tight expression softening into something closer to sleep.

Ting!

A notification flashed before Ghaz's eyes.

[Hidden Quest Completed: First Step as a Healer]

Reward: Herbal Knowledge (Passive Skill)

Then—pain.

Not his own, but a rush of understanding, flooding his mind like an opened floodgate. He knew which plants could soothe fever, which roots could stop bleeding. The scent of dried herbs, the texture of crushed leaves—suddenly, they were familiar, as if he had studied them his entire life.

He exhaled, shaking off the sensation.

"He's going to be alright,come to the Broken Fang inn tommorow with him," Ghaz said.

The mother sobbed, clutching her son close. Around them, whispers spread through the gathered slum dwellers. Orc. Healer. Magic.

Ghaz barely noticed—because the next moment, something small and metallic bounced off his head.

Clink!

He scowled, turning.

Reza, the sharp-minded Hoboglobin, leaned casually against a crumbling wall, arms crossed, smirking. Her dark hair was a mess now cut short and like he guessed she had a dagger.

"Look at you," Reza said. "Big, scary orc playing doctor."

Ghaz rubbed his forehead. "Was the coin really necessary?"

"Nah. Just wanted to see if you'd flinch." Reza grinned. "You didn't. Good reflexes."

Ghaz sighed, standing. "You here to mock, or you actually need something?"

Reza gestured to the gathering crowd. "Seems like they need something."

Ghaz followed his gaze. More slum dwellers had stepped forward—hesitant, wary, but desperate enough to take a chance. A man clutching his bandaged arm, a woman supporting a limping elder, a child sniffling with red-rimmed eyes.

Ghaz rolled his shoulders. "Alright. Who's next?"

He worked.

Setting broken bones, checking infections, cleaning wounds. His hands moved with confidence, guided by the instincts from his past life and the newfound knowledge thrumming in his mind.

He did'nt have any herbs but he could atleast give them a prescription.

The slum dwellers were wary at first, but as he worked, their stares shifted—from suspicion to quiet hope.

Reza sat on a broken crate nearby, watching with mild amusement. "You always this charitable?"

"Not really," Ghaz muttered, bandaging a woman's sprained wrist.

"Then why help them?"

Ghaz didn't answer immediately. He thought about the boy's trembling body, the mother's desperate eyes, the way these people had no one else.

"...Because I can," he finally said.

Reza snorted. "That's a terrible reason."

Ghaz smirked. "Worked so far."

Reza tilted his head. "You ever think about charging?"

"For what?"

"For this." Reza gestured at the people waiting. "You've got magic. You've got skills. You could make a damn fortune healing nobles instead of wasting time here."

Ghaz finished tying the bandage and stood. "Yeah. But nobles can afford human healers. These people can afford an orc to use them as training ground."

Reza studied him for a moment, then huffed a laugh. "Huh. And here I thought orcs were all about strength and war."

Ghaz cracked his knuckles. "Who says healing isn't a kind of strength?"

Reza's smirk widened. "Fair point."

Then—movement.

A small beastkin girl—maybe eight or nine—pushed through the crowd. She had short brown hair, tiny horns, and wide, tear-streaked eyes.

"Please," she pleaded, holding up a bundle. "My brother—he's sick—he won't wake up—please help!"

Ghaz took the boy from her arms. The child was burning up, feverish and barely conscious. Worse, thin trails of blood leaked from his eyes.

Ghaz's gut twisted.

This wasn't just sickness. This was bad.

The girl fumbled in her pocket and held out a small glass vial. "T-The merchant said this would help! I gave him all my money!"

Ghaz took the vial. His Herbal Knowledge kicked in instantly.

Fake. Poisonous. A scam.

His grip tightened.

He gently handed the feverish boy to a nearby woman and stood, rolling his shoulders.

"Where's the merchant?"

The girl pointed toward a shop on the far end of the slums.

Ghaz moved through the slums with purpose, the beastkin girl hurrying at his side, clutching the empty vial. Reza strolled behind them, hands in her pockets.

"So, what's the plan?" Reza mused. "Gonna walk in and break his nose?"

"Something like that," Ghaz muttered.

The marketplace came into view—a mess of wooden stalls and shouting merchants. And there, behind a cart stacked with colorful bottles, stood their target. A pudgy man in a stained tunic, his greasy smile widening as he spotted Ghaz.

"Ah! Adventurer! Welcome! I have—"

Ghaz didn't let him finish.

His fist crashed into the merchant's jaw—CRACK!

The man reeled backward into his cart, bottles shattering around him. The marketplace fell silent.

Reza let out a low whistle. "Well. That was satisfying."

The beastkin girl gripped Ghaz's cloak, eyes wide.

Ghaz loomed over the dazed merchant, his voice a low growl.

"How dare you lie about medicine? How dare you trick a little girl with poison?" He grabbed the man by his collar, yanking him upright. "Men like you—your greed—are the reason thousands die every day."

The merchant sputtered, eyes darting around for help, but no one stepped forward. The crowd only watched, silent, waiting.