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

Ghaz sat cross-legged on the floor of their small rented room, the Basic Magic Skills for Swordmages book open in front of him. The lantern beside him flickered, casting shadows over the pages.

Druth lay sprawled on his bed, arms folded behind his head, watching with mild amusement. "So, what's the plan, shaman? Gonna summon a firestorm?"

Ghaz scowled. "I'd settle for a damn spark."

The book was frustratingly vague on how magic actually worked. It spoke in flowery metaphors—"Call upon the elements, let the mana within you dance with the world's breath"—which was useless.

He needed logic.

His system had labeled his mana as 1/1, which meant he had just enough to work with, but barely any room for error.

How Magic Works (According to the Book)

1. Mana Exists in Everything – The air, the ground, even living beings. But most creatures couldn't use it unless they had a natural affinity.

2. Control Comes From the Mind – A mage needs willpower and focus to shape mana. The stronger the will, the stronger the spell.

3. Elemental Magic is a Flow – Fire, water, wind, earth… all of it follows specific patterns in nature. You don't just create fire—you ignite existing energy.

4. Casting Requires Intent – You don't just say a spell and make it happen. You imagine the effect, shape the mana, and let it flow.

Ghaz exhaled. Alright. Think scientifically.

If fire needed fuel, oxygen, and heat, then what was the magical equivalent?

Mana is energy. Air contains oxygen. Heat is just rapid molecular movement.

Which meant…

If he concentrated his mana into a small point, increased energy, and controlled oxygen flow… theoretically, it should combust.

Druth sat up, watching as Ghaz cupped his hands together.

"Here we go," Druth muttered. "Try not to burn the place down."

Ghaz ignored him, closing his eyes.

Focus.

He imagined the mana in his body flowing like electricity. The markings on his hands pulsed, sending an odd shiver up his spine. He guided that energy to his fingertips.

The air warmed.

The hairs on his arms stood up.

His fingers tingled—then, suddenly, a small flicker of orange light appeared.

Ghaz grinned. "I did it."

The light vanished.

"…Shit."

Druth chuckled. "That was pathetic."

Ghaz scowled, trying again. This time, he focused harder, recalling how a lighter worked—creating a spark, fueling it with oxygen, and keeping it going.

His markings flared.

A tiny ember floated above his palm, flickering weakly—

Then vanished again.

"Okay," Ghaz muttered. "I need fuel. The mana isn't enough on its own."

Druth smirked. "You want me to grab some firewood? Maybe a candle?"

Ghaz ignored him, thinking. Mana is energy… but how do I keep it from burning out immediately?

Then he had an idea.

Oxygen manipulation.

He focused on the air itself, on the way fire needed a constant flow of oxygen. If he could shape mana into controlling air, he could keep the flame alive.

This time, when he summoned the ember, he imagined pulling oxygen toward it.

The ember grew.

Then expanded into a small, flickering flame.

Ghaz grinned—

BOOM.

A burst of heat exploded in his face, sending him flying backward. He crashed into the wooden dresser, coughing as smoke filled the room.

Druth howled with laughter.

"Well. That went well."

Ghaz groaned, waving away the smoke. "I almost had it."

"Yeah. Almost."

That was attempt number three at casting a fireball. The results? A small puff of smoke, a flicker of heat, and an explosion directly in his face.

"Shaman of flames, huh?" Druth smirked from his bed, arms crossed. "You keep blowing yourself up, I'm gonna start charging people to watch."

"Shut up," Ghaz grumbled, waving the smoke away. The fireball had been a failure, but it was progress. He could feel the raw potential in his body, but something was off. He needed more control—or better yet, more mana.

He sighed, glancing at the empty air in front of him. "Hey, System. How do I increase my mana pool?"

A chime rang in his head, and a blue screen appeared.

[System Message]

Oh? Finally realizing you're weak? Good, good. Took you long enough.

Ways to Increase Mana Pool:

1. Natural Growth (Takes years, and let's be honest, you're not that patient.)

2. Consuming Mana-Rich Materials (Good luck affording that.)

3. Cultivation (Oh, but you need a cultivation technique for that, don't you? Too bad you don't have one.)

But hey! Lucky for you, your all-powerful, ever-helpful System has a solution!

A new quest notification popped up.

[New Quest: Help the Helpless]

Objective: Aid the poor slum dwellers.

Reward: Cultivation Technique – Breath of the World (Beginner Tier)

Failure: You remain a mana-starved weakling.

Ghaz narrowed his eyes. "Helping the poor? Since when does the System care about charity?"

Since it's funny watching you struggle.

Ghaz sighed. "Fine. How hard could it be?"

Druth glanced at him. "You talking to yourself again?"

Ghaz stiffened. "Thinking out loud."

Druth rolled his eyes. "You're getting weirder by the day, you know that?"

Ghaz ignored him and stood. Time to go see what this quest was about.

The slums of Brethus were exactly what Ghaz expected—narrow, filthy streets, homes built from rotting wood and broken stone, and the stench of unwashed bodies thick in the air.

People—mostly humans, a few beastkin, and some goblins—huddled near fire pits, their clothes little more than rags. Children ran barefoot through the streets, while gaunt-faced men and women watched Ghaz warily.

A hulking orc in armor wasn't exactly a welcome sight here.

Ghaz ignored the stares and wandered deeper, looking for someone who actually needed help.

And that's when he heard it.

Coughing.

A boy—maybe ten years old, human—sat against a wall, clutching his stomach. His face was pale, his lips cracked, and his entire body shook with violent tremors. His mother, a thin woman with hollow eyes, knelt beside him, whispering prayers.

Ghaz frowned. This wasn't just starvation.

He crouched next to them. "What's wrong with him?"

The woman flinched, her eyes darting up to meet his. "He's… sick. Fever. His body won't stop shaking."

Ghaz looked at the boy again. The symptoms looked familiar.

His mind flashed back to his past life—patients suffering from infections, dehydration, even organ failure.

His fingers twitched. He was a Nerve Stitcher now, wasn't he? Maybe… maybe he could do something.

He exhaled. "Alright, kid. Let's see what I can do."