This time, he wasn’t looking for guidance.
He was reflecting.
[System Status: Edan Wood]
Level: 3
EXP: 175/200
Skill Points Available: 2
System Sync: 35%
Skill Branches Unlocked:
? Internal Medicine
– VitalSight (Passive)
– Pattern Recognition II
– Clinical Awareness II
– Diagnostic Anchoring I
? Emergency Medicine (Crossover)
– Triage Reflex I
– Rapid Response Mapping
? Synergy Pathways (Active)
– Sepsis Mapping I (Internal + Emergency)
– Acute Insight I (Diagnostic + Triage synergy)
? Other:
– Ethical Judgment I
New Branch Available: Pediatric Focus
(Locked – Activate with 1 SP)
Team Reputation: Harper Rotation – Trusted
May propose management independently. High team confidence.
The list felt… longer now. Substantial. But Edan knew what the system screen couldn’t show — the cost of everything it had taken to earn it. The pressure. The second-guessing. The lives behind each stat and perk.
He was about to close the menu when a notification blinked in red.
[New Mission Alert: Code Blue – Incoming Trauma, ETA 2 min]
Patient: Unknown Male, approx. 19 y/o
Presenting Condition: Blunt-force trauma, unconscious.
Pre-Hospital Report: No pulse on arrival, CPR initiated en route.
Mission Objective: Assist in resuscitation.
Bonus Objective: Perform accurate field triage and determine if heroic measures are medically justified.
Reward: +40 EXP, Unlock Resilience Trait
Penalty: None – Emotional burden event.
Warning: This is a mortality encounter. System HP bar may fall to 0.
Edan stared at the screen.
Mortality encounter? He’d seen red HP before. Flickering. Falling.
But never black.
He stood.
Trauma Bay – Code Blue
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The trauma lights painted everything in crimson. A gurney flew through the doors, EMTs shouting stats through surgical masks.
“Male, approx. 19. Found unresponsive after a warehouse collapse. Chest trauma, no pulse at scene. Intubated. In CPR for 12 minutes and counting.”
Dr. Harper took the head of the table. “Let’s go! One amp epi, full trauma assessment. Edan, you’re on vitals and response tracking.”
Edan pushed in beside the resident, placing his fingers on the carotid line.
No pulse.
The boy — because that’s what he was, just a kid — lay lifeless under the harsh lights. His chest was soaked in blood and mud. Broken concrete dust was still embedded in his hair.
HP: 1%
Status: Terminal – Critical Intervention Window <60 sec
One percent.
A sliver of green, barely visible — like a candle flickering in a storm.
“Clear,” the resident called. The defib paddles discharged.
The boy’s body jolted.
Flatline.
HP: 1% → 1%
No response. Window closing.
Edan’s hands were steady, but inside, something cracked.
We’re too late.
Another amp of epi. More chest compressions. Another shock.
Then silence.
The monitor flatlined again — a pure, sterile tone that cut through the room.
“No cardiac activity,” Harper said quietly. “How long since loss of pulse?”
The EMT answered: “Seventeen minutes.”
Harper looked around the table. “Anyone object to calling it?”
Silence.
But Edan — he couldn’t look away from the HP bar.
HP: 1% → 0%
[System Alert – Patient Deceased]
No recovery possible. Time of death: 5:48 p.m.
Emotion Protocol Engaged – Grief Calibration Threshold Reached
The system will not display HP bars for 60 minutes.
Mission Failed – No penalty
Outcome predetermined on arrival. You did your best.
Trait in Progress: Emotional Resilience (Locked – To unlock: Process your first mortality encounter)
The screen faded.
No EXP. No reward. No punishment.
Just silence.
Harper removed his gloves. “Edan,” he said quietly, “step out. You don’t need to help with the paperwork.”
Edan nodded stiffly and walked out of the trauma bay like a man underwater.
Empty Hallway, 6:00 p.m.
The corridors were quieter now — that strange, guilty quiet that hospitals wore after failed resuscitations. Edan sat on the bench outside radiology, eyes unfocused, ears ringing with phantom monitor tones.
He was just a kid.
The bar turned black, and that was it. Gone. No XP. No skill. Just... nothing.
He hadn’t known the boy. Not his name, his hobbies, who he loved. But Edan had seen his life measured down to a digit — 1%, then zero.
And no matter what the system said — “You did your best” — it didn’t feel like enough.
Footsteps approached.
Jason Hart sat down beside him, holding two coffees from the machine. He handed one to Edan without speaking.
After a long moment, Edan asked, “Have you… ever seen someone die?”
Jason nodded slowly. “Two times on my trauma rotation. First one was a stabbing. Second was an overdose. I didn’t even know how to react.”
“I felt so useless,” Edan murmured.
Jason looked straight ahead. “You weren’t. You were there. You did everything you could. That matters, even when it feels like it doesn’t.”
They sat in silence for a while. The hum of the hospital machines faded into the background, replaced by the heavy weight of grief neither of them could name — only carry.
[System Alert: Emotional Resilience Trait Now Available for Unlock]
This trait allows the user to withstand psychological fatigue from failure or mortality.
Unlock Cost: 1 Skill Point
Effect: Reduces internal penalty from trauma. Boosts clarity in emotionally charged environments.
You may now view black HP bars as part of advanced triage.
Optional Unlock: Yes / No
Edan didn’t hesitate.
[Emotional Resilience – Trait Unlocked]
System Sync: 38%
Trait Passive: Grief Fog reduced. Mental clarity retained during high-mortality exposure.
He looked up at the ceiling.
“I’m going to remember him,” Edan said quietly. “Not because of the case. But because I was there when it ended.”
Jason nodded. “That’s all any of us can do.”