Is She Actually a Miracle Doctor?

Cora stepped back, her boots crunching slightly on the fresh soil as she silently surveyed her newly expanded territory. The floating raft had transformed into a solid stretch of land, measuring roughly six by sixteen feet. It remained a barren patch of earth, dominated only by a single, waist-high boulder resting near the center, yet the sheer stability of it underfoot held immense promise.

The sky above rapidly bruised into deep purple hues as evening encroached over the endless water. The fading light signaled the end of resource chest drops for the day. She unequipped her fishing rod, sending the tool back into her inventory to keep her limited floor space clear of tripping hazards.

Her attention shifted to the heavy underwater thruster she had claimed from her milestone reward. Hefting the metallic device from her storage, she braced her core and carried it toward the stern of her island. The sheer density of the machine made her arms strain, but her newly boosted stats allowed her to handle the burden.

She secured the thruster into the reinforced edge of the foundation, locking the clamps into place. A three-foot-tall pedestal extended upward from the base, crowned with a sleek digital touchscreen. She tapped the glowing surface, navigating the coordinate system. The interface illuminated her face in the gathering dusk. She punched in a steady cruising speed of six miles an hour.

With a soft, mechanical hum, the thruster primed itself and began churning the dark water. Knowing the device would automatically run and cover her daily movement quest without her having to break a sweat brought a profound wave of relief. She would not have to row or rely solely on unpredictable currents anymore.

She let out a long breath, watching the foam bubble in the thruster's wake. The gnawing worry about finding more energy cores to power the machine crept into the back of her mind. She only had two cores, and they wouldn't last forever. She pushed the anxiety aside. She had enough to deal with tonight.

The ocean air grew biting and sharp as the sun vanished. Shivering, she pulled a second thermal suit from her inventory and zipped it up over her first layer, desperate to trap her body heat against the plunging temperature. She curled up near the center of her landmass, pressing her back against the solid surface of the boulder, and let the rhythmic hum of the thruster lull her to sleep.

Morning broke with a pale, gray light filtering through the mist. Cora sat up, her joints stiff from sleeping on solid ground. Breakfast was a bleak affair. She forced down a meager, flavorless piece of dry bread, washing it down with a mouthful of boiled water from her plastic bottle. It barely put a dent in her hunger, but it provided the necessary calories to start the day.

Knowing her physical stamina was still an abysmal liability, she attempted a makeshift stretching routine. She tried to recall old gym class warmups, clumsily reaching for her toes and twisting her torso to combat her poor physical condition. Her hamstrings burned, and the awkward movements were embarrassing even in total isolation. She pushed through the discomfort, knowing physical weakness was a death sentence in this game.

A sudden splash shattered the quiet morning.

Finnick popped out of the choppy water, bracing his hands on the edge of her island. "Morning, Granny!" he chirped.

His large, dark eyes sparkled mischievously. Before Cora could offer her usual greeting, the boy sneakily slid a small wooden box onto the dirt. He pointed at the remaining chunk of dry bread in her hand, making a grabbing motion.

Cora raised an eyebrow but handed the bread over. Finnick snatched it up, sniffed the crust with pure delight, and carefully tucked the stale piece into his pocket instead of taking a bite.

Curious, Cora popped open the lid of the box. Two top-tier, pristine cod fillets rested inside. He had directly exchanged a highly valuable box of fresh meat for a simple piece of dry bread. She tucked the fish into her inventory, deciding not to question the chaotic economy of a sea monster.

She settled securely against the island's lone, massive boulder, bracing her boots against the dirt. Finnick slipped back into the water and grabbed the tow rope. Smoothly, he accelerated. The island glided across the choppy ocean, the morning breeze biting at Cora's cheeks as the water rushed past the stone foundation.

For about an hour, the ride was peaceful. The steady rhythm of the waves splashing against the edges almost lulled Cora into a trance.

Then, the tranquility was shattered.

A chaotic spray of white water erupted in the distance. The churning foam signaled something massive thrashing beneath the surface. Finnick's cheerful expression instantly hardened into a glare.

He dropped the towline and abruptly dove into the sea with a loud splash, sending a spray of saltwater over Cora's boots.

Cora scrambled upright, gripping the boulder to keep her balance as the island bobbed in the wake.

Moments later, a flurry of dorsal fins sliced through the water, heading straight for her. Several large adult sharks were frantically nudging a much smaller, severely wounded pup toward the edge of her island. The water around the little creature bloomed with a dark, terrifying crimson.

Finnick broke the surface right beside the pup. "Granny, please! You have to save him!" he cried out. His human face was twisted with sheer panic, his desperate, pleading eyes locking onto hers.

Cora stared blankly. A heavy, jagged iron arrow was lodged deep into the little shark's bleeding belly. The brutal weapon looked lethal, and the blood flow showed no signs of stopping.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. She was just a fake dentist. She pulled teeth based on a game mechanic; she was certainly not a surgeon. But as she looked up, ten massive apex predators circled the edge of her tiny landmass. Their sorrowful, intensely hopeful gazes pinned her in place. The pressure of their collective stare tied her stomach in tight, anxious knots.

Gritting her teeth, she pushed up her sleeves. She had to try.

"Put him up here," she instructed, pointing to a naturally formed shallow pool of water near the edge of her deck. "Gently."

The adult sharks carefully pushed the pup over the rim. The baby shark thrashed weakly, its gills flaring as fresh blood spilled into the puddle.

Cora knelt beside the creature. She battled her shaking hands, forcing her grip to steady as she pulled up her game interface. She retrieved the potent liquid anesthetic she used for extractions and carefully applied it around the ragged entry wound.

Waiting an agonizing handful of seconds for the numbing agent to take effect, she grabbed her heavy pliers. She gripped the blood-slicked shaft of the iron arrowhead. She took a breath, anchored her knee against the damp earth, and pulled.

The arrow slid out with a sickening squelch.

A fresh surge of blood followed the jagged metal. Cora dropped the arrow and immediately dumped a generous handful of coagulating powder directly onto the open gash. The bleeding slowed to a sluggish ooze. Snatching her medical needle, she clumsily but securely sutured the ragged wound, her fingers slippery and trembling as she pulled the thick thread tight.

She tied off the final stitch and sat back on her heels, panting. The unconscious pup rested in the shallow water, its breathing shallow but steady.

An eerie silence fell over the water. Then, one by one, the remaining adult sharks swam up to the edge of the island. They politely dropped shiny gold coins onto the soil near her boots. Unprompted, the massive beasts obediently lined up, opening their terrifying jaws for their scheduled dental work.

Cora wiped a streak of sweat and saltwater from her forehead. She picked up her tools and got to work.

She moved methodically, extracting decayed teeth and accepting the payment. By the time she finished her fifth patient, a sudden splash broke her focus.

The little shark, Cleo, jerked awake. He didn't just slowly recover; he bolted straight into the ocean with an explosive burst of energy. The pup darted through the waves, twisting and turning, fully healed.

Cora stood stunned. She stared at the water, her jaw slightly slack at the miraculous speed of his recovery. For a fleeting second, she briefly wondered if she was actually a prodigy, a genius surgeon operating on pure instinct. Then reality set in. She mentally credited the game's overpowered anesthetic and healing mechanics for doing the heavy lifting.

Seeing his frantic family swarming him, Cleo broke away from the pack and swam right up to the edge of Cora's island. He gently set down a mysterious little wooden box onto the dirt, right next to a fresh gold coin.

"Thanks for saving my life, Ma'am," Cleo chirped respectfully, his voice high and bright.

Cora desperately wanted to rip open that little wooden box, but she had to maintain her cool, strictly professional demeanor. The pack was watching her every move. She offered the pup a distant, slow nod, tapping her pliers against her palm.

She turned her attention back to the massive jaw of her sixth patient, continuing to pull teeth. But beneath her calm exterior, she secretly eavesdropped on the pack's rapid chatter.

Cleo floated near the adults, vividly describing his brutal attackers. He spoke of horned, humanoid bandits that roamed the open waters. They sailed in groups, armed with heavy bows and arrows tipped in heavy sedatives. They hunted anything they could catch, dragging their incapacitated prey onto their ships.

A sharp spike of anxiety pierced Cora's chest. She considered the impending end of her seven-day beginner protection. Once that invisible barrier dropped, she would be exposed to those very same roaming threats. She had no combat skills and no defenses.

She paused her work, her eyes drifting downward to the jagged, bloodstained arrowhead resting in the dirt. It was heavy, forged from solid iron, and built to incapacitate. A cold, calculated plan started to form in her mind. If they were bringing weapons to her doorstep, she might just find a way to use their own arsenal against them.

An hour later, Finnick and the pack finally departed, sinking beneath the waves and leaving the waters calm once more.

Cora set her tools down, stood up, and stretched her aching back. Her muscles screamed in protest, but the hard part of the day was over. She turned her attention to the scattered pile of salvage left by the sharks.

Earlier, during a brief lull, the sharks had watched her pick up a piece of driftwood bark. Assuming she wanted garbage, the pack had eagerly scattered to fetch her more random treasures from the ocean floor.

She knelt in the dirt, sorting through the dripping pile. There was a lone, faded flip-flop, a hardened wad of chewed gum, a torn scrap of synthetic fabric, and a cracked plastic bucket.

Adding them to the bits of junk she had collected herself, she had a neat pile of twelve odd items. She opened her interface and submitted the refuse to the system.

[Trash Picker progress updated: 13/30.]

She swiped the notification away and looked down at her other pile. She counted the pristine, white shark teeth she had extracted today. Eighteen in total.

Adding them to her previous stash, she did the mental math. She had thirty-eight in total. The hidden quest required fifty.

A bright spark of hope ignited in her chest, pushing away the lingering chill of the morning's chaos. She would have enough to finish the quest tomorrow and finally secure her prized water purifier.