Medical System Rising: Rise Of Joseph Briggs

CHAPTER 3. The Healers’ Syndicate Rumor

Hospital Cafeteria, Mid-afternoon.

The hum of conversation floated over the smell of burnt coffee and antiseptic. 

Doctors clustered around screens, pretending to read reports, but every few sentences drifted back to the same name. “Briggs.”

Joseph sat at the edge of the room, untouched sandwich growing stale. He could feel their whispers, though he pretended not to. “Word is, the Syndicate’s noticed him,” someone muttered.

“Noticed? They’re furious. Unregistered divine acupuncture? That’s a federal breach.”

“They’ll audit the whole division.”

Laughter, nervous and clipped. Joseph’s friend, Dr. Vera Lin, slid into the seat opposite him, voice low. “You shouldn’t be here. The moment your miracle hit the news boards, the Syndicate opened an inquiry.”

He looked up, tired but steady. “If they want answers, they can ask.”

“They don’t ask,” Vera said. “They investigate. Quietly. And when they do, people vanish.”

Joseph leaned back, watching steam curl from his untouched cup. “Then I’ll be the first to vanish with purpose.”

Vera’s eyes flicked toward the cameras on the ceiling. “Don’t say things like that out loud.”

From another table, Marcus’s voice cut across the hum, too loud, too casual. “I heard the Syndicate doesn’t like healers who play god.”

The room fell silent. Joseph turned his head slowly. “Then perhaps they should redefine god.”

Marcus smiled without humor. “You always did like rewriting rules.”

The conversation dissolved back into nervous whispers. But Joseph’s pulse had begun to quicken, that strange golden rhythm echoing faintly beneath his skin.

A shadow fell across their table. Two figures in dark suits entered the cafeteria, polished badges glinting like knives. Syndicate inspectors.

…

In the boardroom, one hour later. The glass walls reflected the skyline, steel and storm clouds gathering in the distance.

Dr. Maren Holt, all poise and silver-gray eyes, sat opposite Inspector Dane Korr, who smiled the way a surgeon might before making the first cut.

Bill Gates stood near the window, hands clasped behind his back. Joseph faced them across the polished table.

Maren’s tone was courteous but cold. “Dr. Briggs, congratulations on your remarkable result.”

Joseph inclined his head. “Thank you.”

“May we confirm which authorization code you used for the acupuncture sequence?”

“I didn’t,” Joseph said. “I followed instinct. The patient’s pulse guided.”

Dane’s smile widened. “Instinct. Fascinating. Do you normally apply ancient forbidden meridians based on instinct?”

Joseph’s jaw tightened. “When medicine fails, instinct is all we have.”

Maren’s gaze flicked to Bill. “And did your mentor authorize this deviation?”

Bill answered smoothly, “Responsibility for my student’s training rests with me. The procedure was unconventional but… successful.”

Dane folded his arms. “Success doesn’t absolve illegality.”

Maren slid a card across the table, embossed with a golden serpent coiling around a needle. “The Healers’ Syndicate regulates all divine techniques. Those who wish to ascend must do so under sanction.”

Joseph stared at it. The emblem shimmered faintly, and beneath his sleeve, his wrist burned.

Maren’s voice softened, almost kind. “Join us, Dr. Briggs. With proper registration, your gifts could change the world.”

Bill’s tone sharpened. “Or destroy it.”

Maren’s smile never faltered. “We’ll be in touch.”

As they left, Joseph looked at the card again. The serpent’s eye pulsed once, golden.

…

At the hospital corridor, Vera intercepted him by the elevator, whispering urgently. “They locked Clara’s case file.”

“What?”

“It’s under Syndicate review. Level Nine clearance.”

“That’s higher than Master Gates’s access.”

“Exactly,” she said. “And if they’re pulling data, it means they’re preparing an inquiry. Be careful what you touch.”

Joseph swiped his ID at a nearby terminal, Access Denied. The message flashed in red: CLASSIFIED: HEALER CLEARANCE LEVEL 9 REQUIRED.

He stared at it, pulse hammering in his ears. “They erased her. They erased proof.”

Vera lowered her voice. “They do this before trials. Before purges.”

Joseph closed his eyes. “They’re not healers anymore. They’re gatekeepers.”

From down the hall, Marcus watched the exchange, expression unreadable. His hand brushed the pocket that held the stolen data chip.

…

Rain traced silver lines down the windows. Books and scrolls lay scattered across Bill’s desk, glowing faintly under candlelight.

Joseph burst in, soaked and shaking. “Why didn’t you tell me about the Syndicate’s control?”

Bill looked up slowly. “Because some truths rot faster when exposed.”

“They own everything! Even life itself is patented under their system.”

“Enough.” Bill’s voice cracked like thunder. He stood, eyes fierce. “Do you think I haven’t fought them? I bled for the right to heal freely!”

Joseph froze. Bill’s tone softened, weary. “Centuries ago, divine healers waged wars that split cities. The Syndicate was formed to end that chaos, to bind divine medicine with law. But laws become chains.”

He opened a drawer and withdrew an ancient scroll bound in golden thread. The wax seal bore the same sigil as Joseph’s wrist. 

“They believe only certain bloodlines can wield heaven’s pulse,” Bill said quietly.

Joseph stared. “Then how did you?”

“I lied.”

The admission fell like a stone into silence. Bill met his gaze. “Never use that technique again. They will destroy you, and everyone near you.”

Outside, lightning flashed across the skyline. The glow illuminated the scroll’s seal, the same rune that now pulsed faintly beneath Joseph’s skin.

…

At the parking lot, at 3 AM, rain slicked the asphalt. Marcus stood beneath a flickering streetlight, collar turned up against the wind.

A sleek black car pulled in. Inspector Dane Korr stepped out, cigarette glowing. “You have the footage?”

Marcus hesitated, then handed over the data chip. Korr smiled. “The Council rewards obedience.”

Marcus swallowed. “What happens to Briggs?”

Korr exhaled smoke, eyes cold. “Correction. Nothing personal.”

The car door shut with a soft, final sound. Marcus stood alone, rain soaking through his coat. He looked at his reflection in a puddle, and hated it.

…

Franca sat on the couch, reading the newsfeed projected across the room. Her husband’s name glowed across every headline.

When Joseph entered, drenched, she didn’t look up. “They’re saying you broke divine law.”

He dropped his keys, exhaustion lining his face. “They call compassion a crime now.”

She turned toward him, eyes wide with worry. “Joseph, my father says the Syndicate’s filing jurisdictional claims. They could revoke your license, your citizenship.”

“Then let them.”

“Don’t be reckless!” she shouted, standing. “You think this is some fairy tale where truth wins by itself? The Syndicate writes the law. They decide what healing even means!”

Joseph’s voice dropped, low and steady. “If saving a child breaks their laws, maybe those laws deserve breaking.”

She stared at him, terrified, admiring, lost. Lightning flickered outside, bathing them in white for a heartbeat. The rune on his wrist shimmered, faint but alive.

Franca whispered, “You’re not just fighting them. You’re fighting the world.”

He stepped closer, touched her cheek. “Then let the world bleed first. I’ll heal it after.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “You’ll lose everything.”

He smiled sadly. “Then there’s nothing left to fear.”

…

The city stretched below, wet and shining. Joseph stood at the edge, watching dawn break over glass and steel. His breath clouded in the cool air.

On the skyscraper opposite, a billboard flickered to life, the Syndicate’s emblem: an eye wreathed in gold.

The pupil dilated, once, twice, as though watching him. A voice echoed faintly inside his mind: “The Healers’ System stirs beneath your pulse. Ascension will not be permitted.”

Joseph staggered, gripping the rail, then, silence. The billboard went dark. Below, the city woke as if nothing had happened.

He looked down at his trembling hand. The golden mark pulsed slowly, one heartbeat for the city, one for him.

And he realized, for the first time, that his miracle had not healed the world. It had awakened it.