The Obelisk of Healing Truths: When History Heals, the World

Chapter 2: Fire in the Ward

The confusion was total. The pain ended. The burden, the thud of crumbling concrete—all vanished into an utter, silent void. Dr. Alexander Carter was a solitary speck of consciousness, unencumbered by time and space, regarding the impossible geometry of the radiating Obelisk.

[System Initializing.]

[Welcome, Dr. Alexander Carter.]

The words dangled suspended, sliced from light itself. They had not been spoken, but seen, imprinted instantly into his mind. There was no welcome, no warmth to them. It was a statement of fact, as naked and emotionless as a test score.

Is this… death?

The concept took shape, a desperate, logical guess. A final, oxygen-deprived delusion?

Before the question could fully take shape, the emptiness convulsed.

It hadn't been a sound or a movement. It had been a violent, sensory attack that yanked him out of the stillness. The reek of smoke and blood came flooding back, so intense it was a body blow. The bedlam of screams, groans, and the ominous creak of warped metal pounded him. The world solidified again into a hellish strobe-lit reality.

He was back in the emergency ward.

He knelt on the ground, his hand outstretched across the dust and cold concrete, the other over his chest. He breathed, and the air was thick with torn concrete and death. He lived. His leg—the one that had been pierced, shattered—was intact. The agony was a recollection, an ethereal shadow. He was not injured, still dressed in the same dusty and blood-stained scrubs, but whole, utterly and wonderfully whole.

The transformation was so brutal, so soul-shattering, that he was ill on the floor, his body fighting the paradox.

"Doctor! Alexander!"

The scream was drenched in terror, but he recognized it. Sophia. He looked up, wincing through the grime. The ward was a hellish sight. The ceiling had collapsed at one end, collapsing beds and the patients on them. Wires and burst pipes spat out sparks and water and created a deadly slurry on the ground. The main lights had failed, but the emergency strips gave a jumpy red glow, illuminating the frantic movements of survivors.

Sophia stumbling toward him, her own face smeared with dirt and blood that did not belong to her. She grabbed at his arm, her grip tigerishly strong. "You're alive! I saw the stairs. I thought you were." She couldn't manage it, her words strangling in a bout of coughing.

"The patients," Alexander croaked, the doctor in him overriding the shock and the questions that could not be answered. Triage. Always triage. "Report."

His voice was gruff, but it had authority that cut through her fear. She nodded and fell back into the bleak, mechanical routine.

"Partially collapsing building in west wing. Ventilator power loss. Generators failing. Fire started in the pharmacy—chemical fire, smoke. Can't be put out. I have to get out. Now."

Fire. The new threat seeped in. They were in a burning, collapsing building.

"Get the walking patients to the front door. Evacuate the critical first. Take the back service doors if the front is obstructed," he barked, forcing himself up. His body felt odd—light, charged, vibrating with a strange energy. There was no time to analyze it.

He moved toward a cluster of beds where the haze was thickest. An elderly man was struggling in his restraints, his eyes bulging in terror as he choked on the chemical smoke. Alexander's fingers moved by reflex, unbuckling him, dragging him to his feet.

When Alexander's fingers grazed the man's seared skin, something caught at the corner of his eye.

It was a clear blue overlay, a heads-up display. For an instant of sheer terror, he thought he was losing it to smoke inhalation. But the image remained, clear and sharp in the midst of chaos.

[Patient: Gerald Simmons] [Status: Advanced Sepsis - Dehydrated - Distressed] [Vitals: BP 85/50, HR 135, SpO2 88%] [Primary Diagnosis: Vibrio cholerae Infection] [Recommended Intervention: IV Fluids - Electrolyte Replenishment - Oxygen]

Alexander froze, breath caught in his throat. It was a precise, momentary patient readout. More data than any chart, more accurate than any monitor. It floated over the old man's chest, the words calm and unyielding.

The Obelisk.

The plan was insanity. Unthinkable. And yet, it was the only anchor he had for this insanity-lashed sea. He had died. He had seen it happen. And now he had come back, with… this.

"Doctor!" Sophia screamed down the ward. "The fire's spreading! The oxygen lines!"

He spun around. A banner of fire had slithered along the ceiling, igniting the plastic shroud over the central oxygen supply. A blue-hissing stream of fire was moving along the pipework towards the main tanks. If it got there, the entire wing would blaze up as a fireball.

They had seconds.

Panic erupted once more. Nurses and orderlies scurried back, shielding patients. No time to evacuate them all.

A chill realization fell over Alexander. This was not an accident. It was a test. The origin of his return, the System, witnessed all of this.

He looked toward the fire line for oxygen. The blue overlay strobed once more, shifting its focus from patient to hazard.

[Risk: Oxygen Tube on Fire]

[Estimated Path: To Central Reservoir - 8.2 seconds]

[Estimated Result: Massive Explosion]

[Recommended Action: Thermal Containment - System Point Expenditure Available]

System Point Expenditure? The words didn't mean anything, but he understood what they were supposed to mean. An asset. A miracle money.

He didn't think so. He acted. He raised a hand toward the flame, an utterly ridiculous, instinctive gesture. He had no extinguisher, no tool. Just a desperate, burning need to stop it.

A feeling unlike anything he had ever known seethed from his core. It was not warmth or coolness, but sheer potential. It was a feeling of a thousand suppressed truths, a thousand forgotten cures, breaking the surface. It flowed down his arm and accumulated in his palm.

No light, no sound. But the air itself disturbed, like a heat haze on a sweltering highway.

The blue racing flame down the pipe didn't go out. It. didn't burn. It backed away, retracting from the main tanks, shrinking, diminishing, until it vanished at its origin as if it'd never been there. The plastic of the conduit that had burned and melted smoothed itself over, re-sealing itself, returning to its former, inert state.

The hissing stopped.

Silence, deeper than ever, fell over the ward. Everyone who had witnessed it stayed frozen, looking at the pipe, then at Alexander, their faces etched with a confusion so extreme as to be equal to terror.

He let his trembling hand fall. Uncanny power dissipated, taking with it a deep, humming weariness. It was not physical, but mental weariness, as if he had just performed a hundred top-level surgeries in a row.

There was another message, one which was more personal and blunt, that radiated in front of him.

[Quest Updated: Survive the Collapse.] [Objective: Evacuate the Emergency Ward.] [Reward: System Integration - 100 Exp] [Skill Unlocked: Diagnostic Insight (Passive - Lvl. 1)] [Ability Used: Minor Rewrite - Thermal Energy. Cost: 10 System Points.]

The words burned into his brain. Quest. Exp. Rewrite. This was real. The hallucination was real. He had… rewritten reality. He had undone fire.

"Alexander…" Sophia panted, her voice trembling. "What did you do?"

He stared at her, seeing the fear and the growing, impossible hope in her eyes. He had no answer. How could he say it? He was a man of science, of evidence. This was madness.

But the fire was out. The moment of danger was over.

He clutched the one objective he understood. "We evacuate. Now. Everyone. Move!"

His own voice, its tone charged with new, unbreakable authority, shattered the trance. The staff stumbled into movement, this time propelled by wild, despairing force. They thrust gurneys, rolled patients, and fought through debris to the doors.

Alexander worked alongside them, his new sense—Diagnostic Insight—always operational. He read the state of every patient he interacted with, the critical first, directing resources with an accuracy that was practically supernatural. He knew exactly who was fading, who was stable, who needed to be acted on at once.

It was a doctor's dream and nightmare all wrapped into one. Clear comprehension, bestowed by a talent whose origin he could not even begin to speculate.

They finally burst through the front doors into the evening air. Sirens wailed in the distance, their lights tinting the scene with flashes of blue and red. The triage point on the lawn started to fill with the injured and the dazed.

Alexander stood in the doorway, breathing in the cool air, watching his patients being pulled to safety. The complete realization of what had happened hit him. The collapse. Death. The return. The System.

He'd survived. He'd saved them.

A last message burned itself onto his vision, its blue color vivid against the black, smoky night.

[Quest Complete: Ride out the Collapse.] [Reward: 100 Exp - System Integration Complete.] [New Quest Available: The First Carving.]

He looked at his hands. They were healer's hands. They were something else now too.

They were the hands of a man who could regrid fire. And he knew, with a chill certainty, that this was only the beginning. The true fever was just beginning to burn.