I still remember the day I swore my oath.
I solemnly swear to dedicate my life to the service of humanity.
I will care for my patients with compassion, dignity, and respect, regardless of their background, beliefs, or circumstances.
I will uphold the honor and noble traditions of the medical profession.
I will not permit considerations of age, disease, disability, creed, ethnicity, gender, nationality, political affiliation, race, sexual orientation, social standing, or wealth to influence my duty toward my patients.
I will maintain the privacy and confidentiality of those entrusted to my care.
I will practice medicine with integrity, humility, and honesty, and I will acknowledge the limits of my knowledge.
I will strive to expand my understanding and continue learning throughout my career,
and I will gladly share my knowledge for the benefit of others.
I will prioritize the well-being, safety, and autonomy of my patients.
I will prevent harm whenever possible and work to relieve suffering.
I will treat my colleagues with respect and collaborate for the greater good of those we serve.
I make these promises freely and upon my honor, committing myself to the lifelong responsibility, trust, and privilege that come with being a physician.
...
It was the same day I had stayed up all night.
In the year 2050, the war began. And I—doctor, healer, stubborn devotee of life—was conscripted to the front as a combat medic.
I lost track of how many I dragged back from death's doorstep… and how many death gently reclaimed.
Two months of gunfire. Two months of screaming. Two months without ever pulling a trigger.
Yet in the end, I was killed by the very life I was trying to save.
The sky fractured into smoke and grit. Boots stamped around me, shadows arguing over the taste of vengeance.
[??? #1]: God dammit… did you really have to shoot the kid who dragged you out of there?
[??? #2]: This piece of trash left Mikey in that building. Took her time while my brother bled out in the dark.
[??? #1]: Nothing we can do now. Leave her. Blame it on the enemy. Our people would tear the camp apart if they knew our good girl died here.
Their voices thinned into the distant ringing that comes before the end.
The dirt beneath me felt warm. Too warm.
And as the world dimmed, the only thing that remained sharp was the oath I swore… the one I failed to keep in my final breath.
Then—like a thread pulled taut in empty space—a voice brushed against my consciousness.
[Your duty is needed elsewhere, little one.]
There was no pain. No body. Just gravity pulling me toward something vast and unfamiliar.
When I opened my eyes again, the sky was wrong.
The horizon curved with drifting nomadic cities. The wind carried the metallic scent of Originium. Ears twitched at the edge of my vision—ears that were not mine. My heartbeat thumped in a chest that did not belong to the medic who died on that battlefield.
Terra.
A land scarred by Catastrophes, wandering nations, operators, and Infected souls.
A place where life is fragile, precious, and often forgotten beneath the roar of collapsing heavens.
I flexed unfamiliar hands, feeling the ache of a body shaped by another life.
My oath pulsed inside me, unbroken.
Wherever I had been reborn—whatever I now was—one truth remained clear:
My duty continues.
[Will, how is this intro]
[Also, here are some things to know about this story
Story Notes (Improved)
1--- The MC is a young woman who struggles to feel emotions.
Not emotionless, but numb—detached. She remembers what feelings should be like, yet cannot fully experience them. This shapes her interactions and the way she approaches medicine.
2--- She is a pure doctor with no combat training or magical aptitude.
Her only strengths are her medical expertise and a limited set of medical arts—techniques meant strictly for healing, diagnosis, and stabilization, never for offense.
3--- The story begins in the ravaged lands of Kazdel, two years before the Kazdel Civil War.
The region is unstable, scarred by conflict, famine, and political tension. This environment constantly challenges her oath and forces her to confront the harsh realities of Terra.
4--- Her race is still undecided—either Sarkaz Wendigo or Sarkaz Diablos.
As a Wendigo, she would face themes of isolation, fear, and the burden of a monstrous reputation.
As a Diablos, she would grapple with strength she never wanted and expectations she never asked for.
Either choice deeply influences her identity and how others perceive her.