The Scalpel Laughs at Heaven

The moment my consciousness returned, I found myself back in the celestial administration hall, seething with the kind of righteous fury usually reserved for people who discover their favorite series got canceled on a cliffhanger.

All around me, the other souls were still drifting aimlessly in their trance-like state, waiting politely for their turn at reincarnation like good little bureaucratic sheep.

Me? I had bigger things to deal with.

No way in hell was I going to sit quietly at some cosmic counter again.

I marched straight toward the golden corridor, ignoring the frantic shouts from the employee at Counter 847 behind me.

“Mr. Russell! You must follow proper procedure! Mr. Russell!”

“Yeah, you know where you can shove your procedure?” I shot back over my shoulder without breaking stride.

I reached the massive door marked Office No. 1. This time, it didn’t open automatically for me.
Perfect.

I started pounding on it like a man possessed.

“Open the damn door! I know you’re in there!”

Silence.

“Oh, so now you’re pretending you can’t hear me? Open up or I’ll kick this thing down!”

The door creaked open just a sliver. A cold, feminine voice seeped through the gap like a draft from a freezer.

“Go to the counter. Wait your turn. Follow the procedure.”

“Here’s my procedure!”

I slammed my foot into the door. It burst open with a satisfying BANG.

There she was — Being X. Sitting calmly behind her grand desk, arms crossed, looking exactly like an exasperated mom about to scold her hyperactive kid for drawing on the walls again.

“Hey there, sweetheart! Guess who’s back!”

I dropped into the chair opposite her with the biggest, smuggest grin I could muster.

“I stand before you once again and, guess what… I’m still an atheist. Which means — you lost the bet!”

Her glare could’ve vaporized a dragon on the spot.

“You died after twenty minutes,” she said flatly.

“So what? You never mentioned any minimum time requirement in your little challenge. I lived, I died, I came back, and I still don’t believe in you. Technically… that’s a loss for you.”

“Killed by a slime,” she muttered.

“The details of my death are irrelevant to the result.”

She rubbed her temples like she was trying to fend off a divine migraine.

“Ethan… you do realize you’re probably the first human I’ve ever seen die to a slime?”

“Hey, that was one vicious slime! It bounced! How was I supposed to know it would bounce back!?”

“That’s literally their defining feature,” she said, deadpan. “They bounce. It’s in every bestiary.”

She sighed deeply, pulled a thick folder from her drawer, and opened it with bureaucratic resignation.

“Fine. Technically, I’ll admit — you won this first round.”

“HA! I knew it!”

She snapped the folder shut like a judge slamming down a gavel.

“The first time, I sent you into that world with no special advantages. Just your knowledge and your personality. In hindsight… that may have been a bit unfair.”

“A bit unfair? Lady, you dumped me in the middle of nowhere without so much as a tutorial!”

“And yet you survived twenty minutes,” she replied, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in. What’s your point?”

She stood and circled around the desk. That mischievous glint in her eyes immediately put me on edge. Nothing good ever followed that look.

“I acknowledge my defeat,” she said smoothly. “And because I’m magnanimous, I’ll give you something for your next life.”

“…Something like what?”

“A unique power. An Arcane skill that belongs to you alone.”

My heart kicked into overdrive despite myself. A unique power? Like, actual magic?

“What kind of power are we talking about here?”

“That,” she said, smiling faintly, “is the surprise. Even I don’t know exactly which Arcane will awaken within you. It will manifest based on who you are — your knowledge, your experiences, your essence.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re giving me a power and you don’t even know what it is?”

“That’s how Unique Arcanes work,” she said with a shrug. “They’re… personalized. All I can tell you is that you’ll have to figure out how to awaken and use it by yourself.”

“And how the hell am I supposed to do that?”

“Use your imagination. Draw from your skills, your medical knowledge. This Arcane will draw from everything that makes you you.”

I narrowed my eyes at her.

“Wait a second… the first time, you didn’t give me any power at all! You cheat!”

She shrugged innocently, halo practically glowing with mock sweetness.

“Go to hell!” I snapped.

“Adorable! You’re telling God to go to hell. You really are one of a kind,” she said, laughing.

She snapped her fingers, and I immediately felt the familiar heaviness settling over me. My eyelids began to droop.

“No, wait! I still have questions! First off, why the hell — ”

She cut me off with a casual wave.

“One last thing before you go,” she said. “This new power won’t change the fundamental rules. That world is still ruled by religions. Healing is still reserved for the elite. And you still have to find your place within that system.”

“I’ll find a way to break your damn system,” I growled.

“We’ll see,” she said, smiling knowingly. “Sweet dreams, Ethan. And try to survive more than twenty minutes this time.”

“I’ll show you what — ”

Darkness swallowed me before I could finish.

But this time, something was different.

As I drifted into unconsciousness, a voice echoed through the void. My own voice — but deeper, resonant, almost ancient.

“Chirurgia Arcana.”

The words reverberated inside my skull like a distant echo in a cathedral.

Chirurgia Arcana.
The Surgical Arcane.

Even between life and death, I couldn’t help but chuckle. She’d said the power would reflect my knowledge and experience — and damn, she nailed it.

A power tied to surgery. To medicine. To what I’d always done best.

Chirurgia Arcana, I repeated mentally, savoring the sound.

This time, I was going to show them what I was capable of.
No more getting knocked out by slimes like a clown.
No more bandits laughing in my face.

I had magic now. Real, personal magic — even if I didn’t yet know how to use it.

And above all, I was going to prove to that smug celestial trickster that she could shower me with divine gifts and I’d still remain Ethan Russell: cynical, sarcastic, atheist down to the marrow.

A battle-hardened ER doctor armed with magic, in a corrupt fantasy world?

Oh, things were about to get very interesting.

The darkness folded around me, but for the first time since this entire insane adventure began, I wasn’t anxious.

I was eager.

Chirurgia Arcana.

Yeah, it had a nice ring to it.

Now all that was left was to figure out how to actually use this power…
And, you know, not die in the first twenty minutes again.

This time, I was ready.

…Or at least, I hoped I was.