Without wasting another moment, Peter slipped out of the auditorium and made his way to Room E52. His footsteps echoed in the quiet hallways, his heart pounding harder with every step. The faint hum of slot machines and the occasional clinking of chips drifted faintly from somewhere in the building, but it was all background noise compared to the storm raging in his mind.
Stay calm. Focus. One round at a time. He reached the room and pushed open the door. At the center was a sleek blackjack table, its felt surface glowing under the overhead lights. Two chairs sat on either side of the table, and behind it stood a dealer in a crisp uniform. She radiated an air of professionalism, her expression unreadable. One of the chairs was already occupied. The man sitting there wore a loud Hawaiian shirt splashed with neon flowers, clashing spectacularly with the solemn atmosphere of the room. He lounged casually, his grin wide and carefree as if he were on vacation. “Hey, pal!” the man called out as Peter stepped inside. “Ready to dance with Lady Luck?” He gestured flamboyantly to the empty chair across from him. “Take a seat! Let’s have some fun!” Peter paused, studying him. Was this guy for real? The man chuckled, slapping the table. “What, you don’t believe in luck? Oh, buddy, she’s always watching. And tonight, she’s smiling on me!” Peter gave a polite nod, ignoring the man’s theatrics as he handed his card to the dealer. “All of it,” Peter said flatly. Moments later, the dealer pushed a stack of chips toward him—20 chips, each worth $500. Across the table, the man eyed Peter’s stack with mock reverence. “Ooh, big spender! I like it.” He tapped his chest dramatically. “Name’s Zack, by the way. But everyone calls me Lucky Zack.” “Peter,” he replied curtly, sliding into his seat. What Peter didn’t know was that Zack Lynne was infamous in the gambling world. Despite not being a professional, gambler, Zack’s reputation echoed far and wide, even among top-tier gamblers. Zack’s games were riddled with tales of impossible wins and miraculous comebacks, but seasoned gamblers knew the truth: his skill bordered on terrifying. He hadn’t pursued professional gambling only because he refused to adhere to the rules of traditional gambling institutions. To many, he was a myth. To others, he was a legend. And now, Peter was sitting across from him. The dealer spoke, her voice calm and even. “First to lose all their chips is eliminated.” Zack leaned back in his chair, beaming. “Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll make it quick!” Peter remained silent, his jaw tightening. The blue semi-transparent screen appeared in Peter’s vision. ….. [BET DETECTED: QUEST ACTIVATED – BLACKJACK DUEL] Objective: Win the game. Reward: +5 EXP, New Skill Unlocked. Penalty: -3 EXP. SKILLS AVAILABLE: 1. Probability Vision 2. Pattern Recognition Detector (Think “ACTIVATE” to enable skills.) ….. Peter’s heart skipped a beat as he sat down. Time to see what this thing can do. The first hand was dealt. Taking a deep breath, Peter focused on the System Panel hovering in the corner of his vision. … [ACTIVATE: Probability Vision.] ….. The world around Peter sharpened. Though in low percentage figures, numbers and probabilities overlaid the blackjack table. He could see the likelihood of each card being dealt, the remaining high cards in the deck, and even the dealer’s potential hand—all displayed in glowing percentages that shifted in real time. Peter’s cards landed softly on the felt—a nine and a king. Nineteen. Solid. “I stand,” Peter said, his voice steady. Zack, meanwhile, glanced at his cards with exaggerated flair and covered his eyes with one hand. “Alright, Lady Luck, do your thing! Hit me!” The dealer slid him a card. “Ha! A three!” Zack shouted, grinning ear to ear. “What did I tell you? Luck’s on my side!” He hit again. Another three. “Boom! I’m unstoppable!” Zack exclaimed. Then the next card came—a king. “Twenty-one,” the dealer announced. Zack leaned forward, scooping Peter’s chips with exaggerated glee. “Oh, buddy, I can feel it. Tonight’s my night!” Peter narrowed his eyes. Something about Zack felt… off. The games continued, and Zack’s laughter filled the room with each win. His every move was accompanied by dramatic fist pumps, jokes about his “lucky shirt,” and the occasional whistle. But Peter wasn’t laughing, even with his system advantage, Zack kept winning. Zack’s movements, his decisions—they weren’t as random as his personality suggested. His bets became more aggressive when high cards were likely to appear and more cautious when they weren’t. Something was off. By the fourth game, Peter was down half his chips. He clenched his fists, his frustration building. Peter activated his System Panel, pulling up his skill list. Peter activated Pattern Recognition Detector. …. [Pattern Recognition Detector: Scanning opponent’s gameplay… Searching for patterns…] ….. Peter narrowed his eyes, watching his opponent more closely. Every move Zack made was methodical. He was tracking the ratio of high-value cards left in the deck—aces, tens, jacks, queens, and kings—adjusting his bets accordingly. When the deck was rich in high cards, Zack bet aggressively. When it wasn’t, he played conservatively. That’s when he realized what was happening. Suddenly, Peter’s System Panel buzzed faintly, confirming his suspicion: [DETECTION: CARD COUNTING] Peter’s breath hitched. Zack wasn’t relying on luck. He was counting cards.Related Chapters
The Gambling System Chapter 12: Card Counting
Zack wasn’t relying on luck at all. His loud personality, his flashy shirt, and all the jokes—every bit of it was a carefully crafted distraction. Beneath the surface, Zack’s mind was a well-oiled machine, calculating every move, tracking every card, and silently stacking the odds in his favor.Card counting.Peter’s jaw tightened as he realized what was happening. Card counting wasn’t illegal, but it was heavily frowned upon, and for good reason—it gave players a significant advantage over the house or their opponents.For those unfamiliar, card counting was the art of keeping track of the cards that had been played to predict the ones that remained in the deck. It wasn’t about memorizing every single card—that was impossible. Instead, players assigned values to the cards and used basic math to maintain a running count in their heads.For example:Cards 2 through 6 were “low cards” and assigned a value of +1.Cards 7 through 9 were “neutral” and given a value of 0.Cards 10, f
The Gambling System Chapter 13: Jonathan Meyers
[SYSTEM REPORT: QUEST COMPLETED] REWARD: 5 EXP acquired. New skill unlocked. SKILL UNLOCKED: Tactical Vision (Level 1) Explanation: Spots the best possible move within a few seconds. --- Peter stared at the notification on his smartwatch, his mind racing. Tactical Vision? What kind of skill was that? The name sounded useful, but in gambling? Would it really help? He had no time to figure it out. The moment he stepped out of Room E52, searching for his next match, a loud voice called out. "I’ll be damned—you actually made it!" Peter turned toward the sound, spotting Ace walking toward him with a smirk stretched across his face. "Oh hey, Ace. How’d your game go?" Peter asked, shaking off his lingering tension. "A joke. My opponent was some unlucky chump with no skill. It was over in minutes. But you? You went up against Zack Lynne and won. Never saw that coming." Peter frowned. Zack Lynne? "Wait—you know him?" Ace scoffed. "The infamous card counter? Of course, I do. That
The Gambling System Chapter 14: The First Round
Peter hesitated outside Room E52, his hand lingering on the doorknob. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, an insistent drumbeat of doubt.This is it.He exhaled.No turning back now.He had to try.With a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.The air inside was thick with sterile silence, the kind that suffocated sound. A single, dim overhead light illuminated the sleek black-and-white chessboard at the center of the room. A mahogany table stood in sharp contrast to the gleaming, polished pieces set neatly on either side.The arbiter, a stiff-looking man in a pressed suit, stood at attention near the board, his hands clasped behind his back. His eyes flicked toward Peter but revealed no emotion.And then—Jonathan.Even after all these years, he hadn’t changed much.He sat with his back straight, arms folded, exuding an aura of quiet superiority. His thick-rimmed glasses still perched on his nose, reflecting the overhead light in a way that hid his eyes. A
The Gambling System Chapter 15: Round 2
[SYSTEM REPORT: GAMBLE LOST] PENALITY: -3exp deducted EXP LEFT: 9xp Peter couldn't help but feel like the system was mocking him. But then again, his loss wasn’t entirely a waste—or at least that’s what he told himself. He had studied Jonathan’s movements, absorbed his playstyle, and seen, even in crushing defeat, the patterns hidden beneath the surface. All he had to do now was win the second round and then the third. "How hard can it be?" he muttered under his breath, as if he had already forgotten the sheer brutality of the previous match, as if he had amnesia and had somehow erased the memory of being completely annihilated. But sinking into despair wouldn’t help either. They had a short recess of three minutes, but neither of them moved from their seats. There was no tension release, no moment of casual relaxation. Their eyes remained locked onto the chessboard, dissecting, creating, and recreating probabilities, running through moves in their heads like a silen
The Gambling System Chapter 16: Round 3
Peter sprang to his feet the moment the second round ended, his body drenched in sweat, his breath ragged. His fingers trembled as he reached for the glass of water offered to him, gulping it down in desperate, greedy swallows. His forehead was slick, his temples pulsing with a dull ache, and for the first time in his life, he realized that chess—at this level—wasn’t just a game. It was a battle. A war waged not just on the board but in the mind, in the body, in the very core of his being. Every move was a strike, every countermove a dodge, every blunder a wound. He had played his soul out.[SYSTEM REPORT: QUEST COMPLETED]REWARD: 5 EXP acquired. New skill unlocked.SKILL UNLOCKED: SECOND CHANCEExplanation: Gives you a second chance.Note: It costs 3 EXP.Peter frowned as he read the notification. He didn’t have time to process it. His hands were still shaking from the last game, his heart pounding against his ribs. He turned his gaze back to the board, back to Jonathan, an
The Gambling System Chapter 17: A Second Chance?
A second chance? What the hell did that even mean? A redo? A way to erase mistakes?Peter hadn’t given it much thought earlier, but now, now he was just plain confused. How could he have a second chance? Wouldn’t that be breaking the very laws of reality?His mind raced, trying to process the impossible, but before he could make sense of it, he noticed something—a countdown.7.A cold chill ran down his spine.6.Was it even possible to replay a game he had already lost?5.Would it actually work?4.Would the system somehow force the arbiter to reset the match? Rewrite the past? That was ridiculous.3.And if this was real, wouldn't it be cheating on a cosmic level?2.But what was he going to do? Pass on the chance to save his mother just because he was afraid of bending the rules?1.Fuck it.(Activate: Second Chance.)The moment Peter activated Second Chance, time collapsed inward.The world lurched backward, not smoothly, but in a violent, gut-wrenching spin. T
The Gambling System Chapter 18: Six Years Ago
The world exploded around him.Peter gasped, his breath tearing from his chest. His hands trembled. His muscles screamed in protest. His brain felt like it had been pulled through a meat grinder. The weight of exhaustion crashed over him, but none of it mattered.The arbiter’s voice sliced through the haze."Victory to Peter Donovan."The words hit like a sledgehammer. He had won.His mother—He could save her.A dizzying rush surged through his veins, a cocktail of dopamine-fueled euphoria and pure relief. His body wanted to collapse, but the sheer magnitude of his victory held him upright.Across the table, Jonathan sat frozen. His fingers hovered above the board, as if unwilling to accept the reality before him. Then—he sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, his usual composed expression cracking for the first time. A short, breathless laugh escaped him.Peter barely registered it. His vision swam, black spots dancing across his sight. The adrenaline dump was hitting. Hard.[SYSTE
The Gambling System Chapter 19: Guilt and Pain
Peter’s head pounded with a relentless ache, a dull, throbbing weight pressing against his skull. His body still hadn’t recovered from the match—his fingers twitched involuntarily, sore from gripping the chess pieces so tightly. His legs felt heavy, as though they carried the burden of two different realities.Stumbling slightly, he made his way toward the lavatory, muttering a weak excuse as he left the room.The restroom was quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the overhead lights. Peter barely glanced at his reflection as he turned on the sink, cupping his hands beneath the icy stream and splashing the cold water onto his face.Once.Twice.Three times.The sting of the cold barely registered against his skin.But the pain in his head? That was something else entirely.His reflection in the mirror wavered as his vision blurred for a moment. His chest rose and fell in slow, deep breaths, but no matter how much water he threw on his face, it wouldn’t wash away the storm raging in
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Chapter: Shadows of Loss and the Stranger’s Return
“That’s two losses now, huh?”Peter’s voice rasped out of him, rough as gravel. The words hung in the air like smoke, bitter and heavy.The pain was there—undeniable, ragged, raw. Noir didn’t just hear it. She felt it.Sitting at his bedside, she watched him with narrowed eyes. Her usual sharp composure was there, but beneath it flickered something rare: genuine concern.“Peter,” she began, her tone tight but softening at the edges, “do you want to tell me what happened?”She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing with focus. “I went over the replay. You were winning, Peter. Dominating. It wasn’t even close. I’ve never seen anything like it.”Her gaze sharpened, confusion curling into her features like smoke. “But then, the final round—you placed such a simple, careless bet. Almost like… like you were throwing the towel in on purpose.”Peter’s eyes, bloodshot and rimmed with fatigue, met hers briefly.For a heartbeat, he saw everything in her expression. Curiosity. Confusion. Concer
Chapter 70: Overtime
The moment the final buzzer sounded, signaling the end of regulation, Peter felt his body collapse inward.Not physically—though every muscle in his body was locked in unbearable agony—but mentally, emotionally, in a way that left him utterly drained, breathless, and gasping for relief.Overtime.His mind screamed in protest. He had prepared himself to endure four quarters, to suffer through every second, to etch every play into his memory until the final whistle set him free.But the game had denied him that release.The ball had rimmed out.The score remained locked.And now, he had five more minutes to endure.Five more minutes of blinding, skull-crushing pain.Five more minutes before he could activate the Second Chance System and rewind time, before he could use everything he had memorized to place the perfect bet, the ultimate parlay.Peter’s vision swam. His fingertips tingled. His ears rang.He barely heard the thunderous explosion of the crowd, the rising hysteria as thousand
Chapter 70: The Final Quarter Begins – A Battle Against Time
The buzzer screamed, echoing through the packed Pacific Coliseum like a war horn calling soldiers to their last stand. The start of the fourth quarter.And for the briefest of moments, Peter exhaled.One more quarter.That was all.Twelve more minutes.Just a short, final stretch of play stood between him and the end of this torment, the unrelenting, skull-crushing agony that had latched onto him like a parasite, sinking its claws deeper with every second. His body was rebelling against him, his nerves burning, his vision a mess of shifting colors and dark, creeping edges.But none of it mattered.Because when this game ended, it would not truly be over.He would be here again. With knowledge. With power.And this time, he wouldn’t just be a spectator.He would control everything.The Pacific Coliseum was no longer just a venue—it was a living, breathing entity, pulsing with the collective heartbeat of thousands. The energy in the air was suffocating, thick with tension, anticipation,
Chapter 69: Third Quarter: The Breaking Point
Halftime had come and gone, but the tension inside Pacific Coliseum had only intensified. The air was thick, electric with anticipation, as fans murmured and shifted in their seats, waiting for the next act of this high-stakes drama to unfold.On the scoreboard, the numbers stood frozen like a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled:Golden Blades 48 – Nightwings 48.A deadlock.But not for long.The Halftime Adjustments – A War of StrategiesBoth teams had spent the break not just recovering, but recalibrating. In the Golden Blades’ locker room, their coach had hammered in a singular message: Speed. Attack. Pressure. They would push the pace even harder, forcing the Nightwings into mistakes, into exhaustion.The Nightwings had responded with resolve. They weren’t going to let the Golden Blades dictate the game. Their plan? Tighten the defense, control the boards, and let Malcolm Raines take over.As the players emerged back onto the court, the difference in energy was visible.Chris Hollowa
Chapter 69: Second Quarter: The Pulse of the Game
The energy inside Pacific Coliseum was an uncontrollable wildfire, burning hotter with each passing moment. The first quarter had been a whirlwind—momentum shifts, highlight plays, defensive clashes that left the crowd gasping. The Los Angeles Nightwings and the San Francisco Golden Blades were locked in a battle of wills, neither team willing to surrender an inch.As the buzzer signaled the start of the second quarter, the scoreboard glowed like an omen:Golden Blades 28 – Nightwings 26.The lead was fragile, like a thread stretched too tight, ready to snap.Peter barely registered the score.He wasn’t here to celebrate a win or mourn a loss. He was here to learn. To absorb. To engrave every shift in the game into the marrow of his memory.Because when this was over—when he activated Second Chance—he wouldn’t be betting on probabilities.He would be betting on certainty.The Pain Creeps InA dull, persistent pressure pounded behind his eyes, growing heavier with every flicker of move
Chapter 68: The Roar of the Coliseum
The Pacific Coliseum pulsed like a living entity, a vast and untamed force barely contained by the steel and concrete of its structure. The air inside was thick with tension, humming with the anticipation of thousands of spectators, their voices merging into a singular, deafening roar. Banners rippled above the crowd, team colors clashing in a sea of loyalty and rivalry. The spotlights overhead swirled in rhythmic patterns, casting brief halos of light over the freshly polished court, illuminating every scuff, every line—a battlefield awaiting its warriors.The bass from the pre-game music thumped like a heartbeat, reverberating through the floor, through the walls, through Peter’s skull. A sharp pain throbbed behind his eyes, an unrelenting pulse that grew heavier with every drumbeat. His temples felt caught in a vise, his breath coming slow and deliberate as he tried to dull the ache, to push it into the background.He had to focus.Not on the outcome. Not on the competition.Only o
Chapter 65: Round 5
Pain.It was becoming a constant. A companion he never invited but could no longer shake.Peter’s head pulsed with it, a dull throb behind his temples that refused to ease, no matter how much he tried to steady his breathing. The world around him felt strangely off—too bright, too loud, too fast.Peter’s head was pounding.The ache had settled behind his eyes, a dull, unrelenting pressure that refused to fade. Every breath felt heavier, his body sluggish, his thoughts running in loops. The encounter in the restroom still clung to him, but he shoved it aside. He had to focus.The moment he and Logan stepped back into the Viewing Center, the grand display walls flickered to life. Screens stretched across the room, wrapping them in a high-definition arena of color and movement. The very air hummed with the weight of high-stakes betting.Peter barely registered it.His fingers twitched at his sides. His breathing was slow but uneven. The pain wasn’t fading—it was building. Growing sh
Chapter 64: The Restroom
Peter’s vision swam as he gripped the sink tighter, his knuckles turning white against the porcelain. The pain wasn’t fading—it was evolving. What had begun as a dull, relentless pounding was now a knife twisting behind his eyes, burrowing deeper into his skull like a parasite feeding on his thoughts. His breaths came slow and heavy, each inhale laced with nausea, each exhale trembling with the effort of control. He wasn’t sure if this was just the aftermath of Second Chance or something deeper. Something breaking inside him. It felt like his mind was splitting apart. Like his reality was fracturing. Two pasts. Two futures. Two versions of himself fighting for dominance. His body still remembered the crushing weight of defeat. But his mind clung to victory—the flawless counterplay, the rewinding of time itself, the win that shouldn’t have been possible. Both realities bled together. Neither willing to be forgotten. Peter squeezed his eyes shut, fighting against the spiraling tho
Chapter 63: The bar
The bar Logan chose was nothing like the one before. This wasn’t just luxury—it was an exhibition of wealth so obscene it bordered on arrogance. Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen lightning, casting fractured light across the obsidian marble floors. The air carried the scent of aged whiskey and untouchable status.Logan led the way, his movements slow, calculated, every step a statement.Peter followed, masking the pain clawing through his body with every step. The Second Chance ability had taken its toll, an invisible knife slicing through his nerves with each passing second. But he couldn’t show it. Not to Logan. Not now.They reached the private lounge, a secluded alcove bathed in dim gold lighting, where silence held more weight than words. Logan gestured toward the pristine leather seats, his expression unreadable.Peter sat, forcing himself to exhale slowly.The pain was getting worse.It felt like his bones were vibrating with a frequency not meant for the human body, l