Ancient Medical Rising System: Rise Of The Forsaken Doctor

Chapter 6: Framed for Death

Three days after the explosion, Salt Lake Central felt unfamiliar, too quiet, too bright. 

Rick walked through the sliding doors, coat collar up, trying to look ordinary. Every heartbeat around him hummed faintly in his ears; every cough or groan tugged at him like invisible strings.

A nurse glanced up from reception, whispered to another. “He shouldn’t even be here.”

“They say the basement’s still sealed.”

Rick forced a thin smile and swiped his ID. The scanner blinked red: ACCESS PENDING INVESTIGATION.

He exhaled through his nose, nodded at the guard as if it were nothing, and kept walking.

Inside Ward C, an elderly woman gasped for air, monitors beeping in a chaotic rhythm. “Dr. Franklin?” a junior nurse stammered. “She’s crashing, heart failure, unresponsive to medication.”

Rick’s hands moved before thought. “Give me space.”

He pressed two needles, then three, tracing the pulse lines he could now see under her skin, threads of dull gold flickering weakly. He guided the energy with careful pressure, whispering, “Stay with me.”

The monitor flattened, then suddenly stabilized, steady, strong. Gasps filled the room. “She’s breathing again,” someone whispered.

Rick allowed himself one relieved breath. But a second later, the woman convulsed. “Vitals dropping!”

He reached for the next needle, too late. The alarms screamed. Her body stiffened, then went utterly still.

Rick froze. He could still feel her pulse, impossibly strong, echoing in his wrist, but the screen said otherwise.

A young nurse stepped back, trembling. “He touched her with the forbidden needles.”

Across the hall, Isaac Voss stood in the doorway, eyes unreadable. The doctors’ lounge smelled of burnt coffee and ambition. 

Isaac sat alone, scrolling through patient charts until two men in black suits entered. Their silver Caduceus pins glinted under the fluorescents.

“Dr. Voss.” The taller one smiled politely. “We’re with the Healers’ Syndicate Internal Audit.”

Isaac rose slowly. “What do you want?”

“Information,” the man said. “Did Dr. Franklin perform any unauthorized treatments after his suspension?”

Isaac hesitated, the image of the old woman’s collapse flashing behind his eyelids, the brief golden shimmer across Rick’s hands.

The second envoy placed a tablet on the table. A form glowed on-screen beside another window displaying Isaac’s research-grant status: Pending, Review by Syndicate Council.

“The council rewards loyalty,” the man murmured.

Silence stretched thin. Isaac’s signature slid across the document. “Yes,” he said. “I saw Dr. Franklin apply forbidden acupuncture techniques moments before the patient’s death.”

When they left, Isaac stared at his reflection in the black glass of the vending machine. “Forgive me, Rick,” he whispered. “You should’ve stayed ordinary.”

Midnight. The morgue’s lights buzzed weakly. Rick slipped inside, coat hood pulled low. He couldn’t sleep, not with the memory of that impossible heartbeat haunting him.

The old woman lay under a sheet, skin wax-pale. He lifted her arm gently, inspecting each point of contact. No puncture trauma, no hemorrhage. Nothing to explain the failure.

Then he saw it, a faint black residue along the vein, crystalline, pulsing once with dim gold light. “What are you?” he breathed.

He touched it with a gloved finger. The crystal moved, sliding away from him like oil avoiding water.

The System’s whisper echoed inside his skull: [Toxin of the Void. External interference detected.]

“External?” Rick murmured. “Who?”

The morgue door slammed open. Floodlights blinded him. Security poured in, Syndicate inspectors behind them.

The lead officer’s voice cut through the glare. “Dr. Rick Franklin, step away from the body.”

Rick raised his hands. “You don’t understand, something’s wrong with the blood!”

Cameras flashed. Inspectors closed in. Needles clattered from his pocket onto the floor. The officer lifted one, holding it to the light. “Forbidden implement confirmed.”

Rick’s wrist burned, the golden sigil flared through the cuff of his sleeve. Press drones captured every spark.

The officer’s verdict was ice-cold. “Dr. Franklin, you are under arrest for malpractice resulting in death.”

Sterile light. Glass walls. The hum of air recyclers louder than any heartbeat. Rick sat cuffed at a metal table while three Syndicate examiners projected holographic evidence: charts, scans, twisted data he didn’t recognize.

One doctor said, “The patient's organs show liquefaction consistent with chemical corrosion. Your acupuncture logs record needle depths inconsistent with protocol.”

“That data’s been altered,” Rick insisted. “The veins contained something synthetic, alive. You have to check.”

“Are you suggesting supernatural interference, Doctor?” The man’s tone dripped with mockery.

Rick’s mouth opened, then closed. They wouldn’t believe him.

The lead examiner, a woman with silver-rimmed glasses, leaned forward. “Do you know what medicine is, Dr. Franklin? It's an order. You are chaotic. You broke hierarchy, violated code, defied the Syndicate. There’s only one cure for contagion like that.”

Rick felt the System stir within him. [Do not answer in anger. They feed on it.]

He breathed in slowly, jaw locked, refusing to rise to the bait. The silence stretched until the woman sat back. “Record him as uncooperative.”

Her stylus swept across the tablet. “Pending tribunal, Dr. Franklin’s license is suspended.”

Evening settled in shades of blue over the detention wing. Evelyn stood behind the glass divider, her corporate badge catching the light: Harrington Medical Group, Legal Division.

Rick managed a faint smile. “You came.”

She didn’t return it. “I came to tell you to stop.”

She slid a document onto the ledge. “If you sign this confession, admit negligence, you’ll be disbarred but not imprisoned. It’s the only deal they’ll offer.”

Rick stared at the paper. “You know I didn’t do this.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But justice isn’t real anymore. Survival is.”

He shook his head. “If I lie, they’ll bury the truth, and anyone who could ever be saved by it.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “Then they’ll bury you.”

He pressed his palm to the glass. She lifted hers, trembling. The golden mark on his wrist glowed faintly; light spilled through the barrier.

She recoiled as if burned. “You’re changing.”

“No,” he said softly. “I’m becoming what I was meant to be.”

Her voice broke. “I don’t recognize you anymore.”

“Maybe one day you will.”

She turned away before he could see her cry. When the door shut behind her, the cell fell utterly silent.

[Emotional anchor destabilizing] the System murmured in his mind.

Rick whispered, “Don’t. She’s not an anchor. She’s the reason.”

The grand auditorium of the Healers’ Syndicate glittered like a cathedral of chrome. Rows of doctors, politicians, and press drones filled the seats.

Rick stood at the center platform, shackled but upright. Yuren Sun presided in the high chair, his face carved from stone.

The council clerk announced, “Case Zero-Six: Dr. Rick Franklin, accused of malpractice and forbidden technique utilization.”

Holo-screens ignited, footage of the old woman’s collapse, the golden flare from Rick’s hands, Isaac’s recorded testimony. “I saw him apply the needles,” Isaac’s voice declared.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Words followed, “demon healer, corruption, hubris.”

Rick raised his voice above the murmur. “That video’s fake! The Syndicate altered the logs, you’re condemning me for saving a life that someone else destroyed!”

A councilman sneered. “With divine power, perhaps?”

“I don’t know what it is,” Rick said, “but it’s real. It’s trying to teach us that medicine is more than obedience!”

The chamber erupted in noise, some laughter, some outrage. Yuren Sun lifted a hand. Silence fell. He looked at Rick for a long, unbearable moment. “You were my brightest student. But even gold can rot.”

Rick’s chest tightened. “Master… you know that’s not true.”

Yuren’s eyes glistened, but his voice stayed cold. “By authority of the Healers’ Syndicate, I revoke your certification. You are to undergo ritual purification pending judgment.”

The gavel struck. Guards seized Rick’s arms. He barely felt their grip; the world had narrowed to Yuren’s lowered gaze. “Why?” he whispered.

No answer. Only the crowd’s murmurs and the flash of cameras. As they dragged him from the platform, the sigil on his wrist flared blindingly bright.

The System’s voice surged through the static of his mind: [Host under threat. Activation protocols pending.]