Chapter 5

The underground market buzzed with its usual controlled chaos, but tonight, the atmosphere felt heavier. Ethan Cross sat in a quiet corner of the garage, his makeshift clinic now a simple folding table and a worn leather bag filled with basic supplies scavenged from the market.

Grayson's men had already brought him three patients—two with minor injuries from bar fights and one with a gunshot wound to the leg. All were patched up and sent on their way, their gratitude measured in wary nods and whispered thanks.

But as Ethan leaned back to catch his breath, Grayson himself stormed into the room, his face tight with urgency.

"Doc!" Grayson barked, his deep voice cutting through the hum of conversation. "We've got a problem."

Ethan straightened, his pulse quickening. "What is it?"

Grayson motioned toward the door. "One of my guys—Tomas—took a hit during a deal gone wrong. He's losing blood fast. You're coming with me."

Ethan grabbed his bag and followed Grayson without hesitation. The look in the man's eyes told him this wasn't a simple wound. This was life or death.

They reached a small warehouse a few blocks away, where Tomas lay sprawled on a dirty mattress, surrounded by Grayson's men. Blood soaked his shirt, pooling beneath him on the floor. His chest rose and fell in shallow, labored breaths.

Ethan's heart sank as he knelt beside the man. The wound was deep—a jagged stab to the side that had likely pierced the liver. The blood loss was severe, and Tomas's skin was already pale and clammy.

"He's bleeding internally," Ethan said grimly, pulling on gloves. "I need better equipment to stop this."

"We don't have time for equipment!" Grayson snapped. "Fix him, or he's dead!"

Ethan's hands moved automatically, pressing gauze to the wound in a futile attempt to slow the bleeding. His mind raced. He couldn't perform a surgery like this—not here, not with these tools. He needed the system.

"System," Ethan muttered under his breath. "What do I do?"

"Analyzing… Diagnosis confirmed: Hepatic laceration with arterial involvement. Immediate intervention required. Activating Advanced Surgery: Level 1. Tools recommendation provided."

Ethan gasped as a wave of knowledge surged through his mind. Techniques he'd never learned filled his thoughts—ways to suture deep organ tissue, methods to minimize blood loss in an uncontrolled environment. The system's voice continued, cold and precise.

"Additional resource required: Improvised suction device. Nearby source identified."

Ethan glanced around the room, his eyes falling on a discarded vacuum cleaner in the corner. He grabbed it, quickly dismantling the motor to create a makeshift suction device. The men around him watched in stunned silence.

"Hold him still," Ethan ordered, his voice sharp and commanding. "If he moves, he dies."

Two of Grayson's men stepped forward, pinning Tomas down as Ethan began the procedure. He worked with terrifying focus, every movement guided by the system's instructions. Blood flowed freely as he made the incision, exposing the damaged liver. Using a mix of basic tools and scavenged materials, he clamped the bleeding artery and began stitching the torn tissue.

Minutes felt like hours. Sweat dripped down Ethan's face as he fought to keep Tomas alive. The room was silent except for the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor Ethan had rigged from another salvaged device.

"Come on," he whispered, his hands steady despite the chaos. "Stay with me."

Finally, the bleeding stopped. Ethan tied off the last suture and sealed the wound, his shoulders slumping in exhaustion.

"He's stable," Ethan said, sitting back on his heels. "But he'll need rest and careful monitoring for the next few days."

Grayson let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He clapped a hand on Ethan's shoulder, his grip firm. "You just saved his life, Doc. I owe you."

Word of Tomas's recovery spread quickly. By the next day, people from every corner of the underground were seeking Ethan out. His makeshift clinic turned into a bustling hub, with patients lining up for everything from broken bones to infections no one else dared to treat.

At first, Ethan resented the attention. Each new case felt like a risk, another opportunity for his enemies to find him. But as the days passed, something strange happened. People started looking at him not with suspicion, but with gratitude. Some brought supplies—bandages, antibiotics, even a portable oxygen tank. Others offered protection, vowing to keep him safe in return for his help.

Grayson, true to his word, made it clear that Ethan was under his protection. "No one touches the Doc," he told his men. "Anyone who does answers to me."

But even as Ethan's reputation grew, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease. The system's voice remained a constant presence, guiding him through every challenge but never revealing its true purpose.

One night, as Ethan cleaned up his clinic, a figure stepped into the room. She was tall and slender, with sharp features and piercing green eyes. Her leather jacket and confident stride screamed danger.

"You're the doctor everyone's talking about," she said, her voice smooth and measured.

Ethan froze, his instincts screaming at him to be careful. "Depends on who's asking."

She smirked. "Name's Vivian. I represent certain… interests in the city. Interests that could use someone with your skills."

"I'm not interested," Ethan said quickly, returning to his work.

Vivian stepped closer, her smile fading. "You don't even know what I'm offering."

"I don't need to," Ethan said, his voice firm. "I'm not for sale."

She tilted her head, studying him. "Interesting. Most people down here would kill for the kind of resources I can provide. But you? You're different."

Ethan didn't respond. He kept his focus on the tools in front of him, but his mind raced. Vivian's presence was a reminder that his growing reputation was a double-edged sword. The more people knew about him, the harder it would be to stay hidden.

"Think about it," Vivian said, turning to leave. "This city's a dangerous place. It's only a matter of time before someone decides you're worth more dead than alive. When that happens, you're going to need friends."

As she disappeared into the night, Ethan let out a shaky breath. He didn't know who Vivian worked for, but one thing was clear: the world he'd stepped into was far more dangerous than he'd ever imagined.