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

The scent of sizzling grease and charred meat was the only comfort Ghaz'Rok had as he nursed his aching skull. The Broken Fang's common hall was alive with the usual chaos—mercenaries boasting, beastkin stretching sore limbs, and dwarves laughing over morning ales like they hadn't already drowned themselves the night before.

A heavy plate slammed onto the table in front of him—eggs, thick slabs of bacon, and fried potatoes drowning in fat. Exactly what he needed.

Druth'Roc was already halfway through his food, completely unbothered by the lingering effects of last night's drinking contest.

Then, a familiar gruff voice rang out from behind the bar.

"Well, well. If it ain't the orc who lost to a dwarf in a drinkin' contest."

Ghaz grunted and looked up. The innkeeper, a thick-set, balding dwarf with thress strands of braided silver-streaked beard, leaned on the counter with a grin full of gold teeth.

"Morning, Varnok," Druth said through a mouthful of eggs.

Varnok chuckled. "Aye, mornin' indeed. Thought we might've had to drag you lot outta the gutter after last night."

A nearby table of dwarves erupted into laughter, one of them—a broad-shouldered, black-eyed brute—pointing at Ghaz.

"You were out before the third round, lad! Ain't no orcish endurance in that one!"

Ghaz scowled. "The drink was rigged."

The dwarves roared louder.

"Aye, aye, blame the drink, not the drinker," Varnok said with a wink.

Druth smirked. "At least we weren't the ones thrown through a table."

The bruised dwarf at the table grunted. "Hah. Fair enough."

The laughter settled, and just as Ghaz took another bite—

[System Notification]

A sharp chime rang in his skull.

[Quest Completed: Survive the Wilds]

[Objective: Don't die in the next week.]

[Reward: You Get to Keep Living.]

[Bonus Reward: 1x Mana Crystal /For reaching the city and getting a job/.]

[You're welcome, by the way. Keeping you alive was an absolute privilege. Real edge-of-my-seat experience.]

Ghaz exhaled sharply. The system had given him a quest just for staying alive. That was… not reassuring

Druth raised an eyebrow. "You alright?"

Ghaz coughed. "Yeah. Just… burnt toast."

Druth shrugged, unconcerned, and went back to eating.

After breakfast, they stepped out onto the streets of Brethus. The city was fully awake now—merchants shouting prices, beggars lurking in the alleyways, and adventurers exchanging tall tales of their exploits.

Druth stretched. "Right. Time to get paid."

Ghaz smirked. "Try not to spend it all on booze."

Druth gave him an innocent look. "I'm a responsible man."

Ghaz snorted.

A few streets later, they arrived at The Silk Den, a brothel nestled between a spice merchant and a tailor. Even this early in the day, it was alive with soft music and low laughter. The scent of perfume and spiced wine lingered in the air.

Behind the counter sat a woman who was impossible to ignore—a demoness with deep red skin, curved horns, and golden eyes that gleamed like molten metal. She was lazily polishing a dagger, her sharp nails clicking against the blade.

"Druth," she purred, looking up. "Back to work already? I'm impressed."

Druth grinned. "You pay well. And I like the view."

She smirked, then turned her attention to Ghaz. "And you must be the brother."

Ghaz nodded. "Ghaz'Rok."

"I'm Saelva," she said smoothly, eyes gleaming with mischief. "You know, I could use an orc entertainer. Since your brother won't do the job, maybe you—"

"No."

Her grin widened. "Pity. You'd rake in a fortune."

Druth chuckled. "Told you he's no fun."

Ghaz rolled his eyes. "I'm leaving."

Saelva sighed dramatically. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Ghaz left before she could make another offer.

The Adventurer's Guild was bustling as usual. Ghaz stepped up to the job board, scanning for Silver-ranked contracts.

Nothing.

At the counter, the receptionist, an elf named Belar, looked just as frustrated.

"You're Silver-ranked, right?"

Ghaz nodded.

Belar sighed. "Then you're out of luck. No jobs. Either take a Bronze-tier errand or wait."

Before Ghaz could argue, a familiar voice chimed in.

"Well, if you've got no work, might as well enjoy the city."

Lorin, the swordsman from before, was grinning at him.

Ghaz grunted. "If by 'enjoy,' you mean 'starve,' sure."

Lorin chuckled. "Plenty to see. Keep your eyes open."

Ghaz sighed. "Keeping my eyes open is what got me here."

Lorin clapped him on the shoulder. "Life is life. And women, booze, gold—" He paused mid-sentence, then shook his head. "Shit, life's a lot of things. Anyway, gotta go, big greenie."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Ghaz with no better ideas.

Might as well explore.

His wandering led him to a small shop tucked between larger buildings. Its sign was old but legible:

Tesion's Shop of Grimoires and Artifacts

Magic. Something most orcs weren't supposed to have.

Curious, Ghaz stepped inside.

The moment he did, the atmosphere shifted. The scent of parchment, ink, and something unnatural filled his nose. Shelves lined the walls, packed with books, scrolls, and odd trinkets that hummed with unseen energy.

Behind the counter stood an elf with golden hair tied back. He looked up—

And immediately sighed.

The disappointment in his expression was profound.

"Wonderful," the elf muttered. "An orc."

Ghaz raised an eyebrow. "You always greet customers like that?"

The elf, presumably Tesion, waved a hand. "If they look like they can read, no."

Ghaz rolled his eyes and walked deeper inside.

His fingers traced over the spines until one caught his attention.

"Basic magic skill for swordmages."

Something about it called to him.

He reached out—

[System Notification]

[Oh, FINALLY. Took you long enough.]

Ghaz blinked.

[New Class Options Available]

[Due to contact with magic, new class paths related to Orcish and Arcane abilities are now unlocked.]

A list appeared before his eyes.

[Orc Sword-Swinger] – Simple, strong, brutal.

[Orc Brute] – Strength over strategy.

[Orc Pugilist] – Fists, bones, and sheer will.

[Orc Shaman] – Spirits, unseen forces.

[Orc Nerve-Stitcher] – Manipulate flesh and nerves. Repair, reshape… or break.

[Imagine that! Magic! In a fantasy world! What a shocking revelation! Truly, no one could have foreseen this!]

Ghaz exhaled.

Tesion narrowed his eyes. "Are you having a stroke?"

Ghaz shook his head. "No. Just dealing with something incredibly annoying."

Tesion snorted. "Well, at least you're literate."

Ghaz'Rok smirked, looking at the book in his hands.

He had a decision to make.

And this time?

It might change everything.