2025-02-20 23:24:41Zack 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, face cards (Jack, Queen, King), and Aces were “high cards” and assigned a value of -1. Why did this matter? Because blackjack heavily favored the player when there were more high cards left in the deck. High cards increased the chances of hitting a 21 or busting the dealer. Low cards, on the other hand, made it harder to win. As the deck was played, the counter would add and subtract these values to track whether the remaining cards were “rich” with high-value cards or “poor” with low ones. If the deck was “rich,” the counter would bet aggressively, knowing the odds were in their favor. If it was “poor,” they’d bet conservatively. And Zack was a master at it. Peter clenched his fists. He could see it now—Zack wasn’t just guessing. He was tracking every card that left the deck, using his mental count to predict what was coming next. The cheerful banter? The “lucky” shirt? All smoke and mirrors to distract from the fact that he was systematically dismantling the game. Zack leaned back with his trademark grin. “What’s the matter, buddy? Cat got your tongue?” Peter didn’t respond. His mind was already racing. If card counting is Zack’s weapon, I have to find a way to break it. The semi-transparent screen of Peter’s System Panel lit up. ….. [HINT: USE PATTERN DATA TO PREDICT OPPONENT’S BLUFF WINDOWS.] ….. A slow smile spread across Peter’s face. “Hey, Zack,” Peter said, his voice calm for the first time. “You said luck’s always watching, right?” Zack blinked, caught off guard by Peter’s sudden confidence. Then his grin widened. “Damn right, buddy! Lady Luck and I go way back.” Peter leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming. “Let’s see how much she loves you.” ….. [ACTIVATE: Probability Vision.] [ACTIVATE: Pattern Recognition Detector.] ….. The world around Peter shifted. The table became a glowing map of probabilities and data. Each card’s likelihood of appearing hovered in his vision like neon signs. Percentages flowed over the deck, the dealer, and Zack himself. But Peter didn’t stop there. He synchronized Probability Vision with Pattern Recognition Detector. ….. The detector analyzed Zack’s movements and decisions, creating predictive patterns based on his playing style. Peter could see it now—Zack wasn’t just counting cards; he was timing his bets to exploit the deck’s balance. Peter smirked. “You’re right, Zack. Lady Luck must really love you.” Zack chuckled, his grin faltering just slightly. The game shifted. Peter disrupted Zack’s rhythm with erratic moves—standing on risky hands, doubling down when the odds seemed unfavorable. He hit aggressively when the deck was low on high-value cards, confusing Zack’s count. He stood unexpectedly, forcing Zack to second-guess his calculations. Zack’s grin began to waver. “What are you doing, buddy? You can’t play like that! That’s… reckless!” Zack exclaimed, his voice rising. Peter shrugged. “Just following Lady Luck’s lead.” The dealer revealed the next hand. “Bust,” Zack muttered under his breath, his chips sliding back to Peter. Zack fidgeted, his cocky demeanor cracking. What the hell was happening? Was this kid counting cards too? Even if he was, there was no way this kid was better than him. Zack had spent years perfecting his craft. His card-counting skills were sharp enough to make professional gamblers nervous, all so he could have an insurmountable edge when he finally decided to go pro. Now was the time he had decided to go pro and there was no way in hell or heaven he was going to let a puny grey sweater kid stand in his way. The sixth game began. Peter played unpredictably, making bold bets when the odds seemed against him and cautious ones when the deck was favorable. Zack’s eyes flickered with frustration as Peter’s erratic moves made it harder for him to maintain his mental count. In one hand, Peter stood on a risky 16, baiting Zack into overplaying his hand. Zack hit twice, going over 21. “Bust,” the dealer announced, pushing the chips toward Peter. …. The final hand arrived. Both players were down to their last chips. The air in the room felt heavy with tension as the dealer shuffled for the final hand. Peter’s cards landed—a seven and a six. Thirteen. Zack’s eyes flicked to his cards. He had a ten and a five. Fifteen. The dealer revealed her face-up card—a queen. Peter’s System Panel lit up: [DRAW LIKELIHOOD: 73% FOR AN EIGHT.] Peter took a deep breath. “Hit me,” he said. The dealer dealt the card. It flipped through the air and landed softly on the felt. An eight. Twenty-one. Peter exhaled, keeping his face neutral. Zack hesitated, his fingers twitching against the table. The card counter in him was screaming to stop. “I’ll stand,” Zack said at last. The dealer revealed her hand—a nine beneath the queen. Nineteen. “Twenty-one,” the dealer announced, sliding the pile of chips toward Peter. Peter leaned back, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He’d done it. Zack’s chair screeched as he shot to his feet, slamming his hands on the table. “You cheated!” he shouted, his jovial mask completely shattered. Peter raised an eyebrow. “Cheated? Or did Lady Luck finally leave you?” Zack growled, his fists tightening. He lunged across the table, aiming for Peter’s throat. Before he could make contact, two guards appeared like shadows, grabbing Zack by the arms and hauling him back. “Let me go! He cheated! I’ll—” The guards dragged him out, his shouts echoing down the hallway. Peter exhaled slowly, his hands shaking slightly as he collected himself. The dealer gave him a respectful nod. “Well played.” Peter didn’t reply. His thoughts were already on his next challenge. Peter’s watch beeped. He glanced at the screen, and his breath caught. ROOM: E2. GAME: CHESS. OPPONENT: GRANDMASTER JONATHAN MYERS. Peter froze, his stomach twisted. The name wasn’t just familiar—it was a shadow from his past. He’d faced Jonathan once before, and it had cost him more than he cared to admit. Now he had no choice but to confront him once again, he was his next opponent... the next obstacle to saving his mother.
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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
The Gambling System Chapter 20: Silence
Silence.The room fell into a pin-drop silenceA deafening, choking silence.The kind of silence often found in a graveyard.The words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable.Peter felt his pulse slam against his ribs.His mind screamed at him to move, to react, to do something—But his body refused to obey."What the actual hell—"The air thickened, pressing in on him like a vice. For a moment, Peter almost thought he had misheard. But the boy’s expression hadn’t changed.He meant every word.Because this guy wasn’t joking.There wasn’t a trace of bluff in his face.No arrogance. No bravado.Just cold, lethal certainty.It was an expression Peter had never seen before, not even in his most intense gambling matches. It wasn’t the look of someone who wanted to win. It was the look of someone who had to.Like a knight who had sworn an oath.Peter’s mouth was dry.He forced himself to breathe, keeping his voice as steady as he could."Sorry," he said carefully, "but I think you have the w
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The crowd exploded again.If Peter’s bet had been a bomb, Viktor’s was a nuclear strike.People screamed.Chairs clattered against the floor.Someone in the back actually fainted."TWO HUNDRED BILLION?!""IS THIS EVEN LEGAL?!""WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?!""THIS IS MADNESS!"It wasn’t just a gamble anymore.It was warfare on a scale none of them had ever witnessed.---And in the center of it all —amid the chaos and disbelief —Peter and Viktor locked eyes.No words.No smiles.Just two forces of nature colliding —and only one of them would walk away.The second Viktor’s voice cut through the air —"Two hundred billion." —the reaction was cataclysmic.The arena didn't just erupt — it detonated.It was as if the very walls trembled from the shockwave of noise.A thousand voices screamed at once, the sound bouncing off the ceilings and hammering into the floor.Some people laughed hysterically, others yelled in disbelief, and still more sat frozen, mouths gaping like broken machines."TWO
Chapter 96: The Battle Escalates
For a single breathless moment, the entire arena froze.Then, dramatically — like an emperor descending into the gladiator pit — Viktor stood from his luxurious VIP seat and began making his way toward the stage.His every step echoed in the vast silence.A slow, deliberate, predatory gait — like a wolf circling wounded prey.The crowd instinctively parted for him, the sea making way for the storm.The overhead lights caught his sharp suit — dark as night — and made it gleam like polished obsidian.Every movement he made was smooth, precise, dripping with arrogance.He didn’t strut.He didn’t posture.He simply existed with an undeniable dominance.As he ascended the steps onto the stage, his smirk widened — the kind of grin you’d see on a man who already knew the ending of the story... and knew it ended in your ruin.---Peter’s fists clenched by his side.His mind scrambled to process what the hell was happening."What the hell is going on?!" he blurted, voice cracking with confusio
Chapter 95: Choosing Fire Over Safety
Risk made Naomi feel real. It reminded her she still existed — that she could still touch the world, and it could touch her back. But even with all the dares, the bets, the adrenaline highs, the near-death moments she laughed through… Something inside her stayed hollow. A part of her stayed cold. Like no matter how hard she ran, some piece of her was still trapped in that silent house, under a mother’s cold hand, waiting for a father who was never coming back. --- Until she met him. Until she met Peter. --- It was a cold, gray morning. The kind that makes the whole city feel dead. The sky was heavy with low, steel-colored clouds. The streets were slick with rain from the night before, the air sharp and damp. Naomi had her headphones in, lost in the beat of some reckless song — one that made her feel like she was the only real thing in the world. She didn’t see the bus. She didn’t hear the shouts. Didn’t realize the screaming wasn’t part of her music. Until — Hands.
Chapter 94: Naomi
The earliest memory Naomi could ever call happy wasn’t a birthday party or a family trip. It was standing on the edge of a rooftop. She was five years old. The air was crisp and wild against her cheeks, whipping her hair into her eyes. Her tiny sneakers teetered dangerously close to the ledge. Below her, the city stretched out in a chaotic mess of lights, honking horns, and life. She didn’t feel afraid. She felt free. For the first time in her short, confusing life — she felt truly, completely alive. --- Naomi was born in a city where gambling wasn’t just a pastime — it was a heartbeat. Lottery houses on every corner. Illegal poker games tucked into alleyways. Sports betting rings hidden behind barbershops. Risk and reward were the background noise of her childhood. Her father, Daniel, was a professional poker player. The kind of man who lived with cards always hidden up his sleeve and a crooked smile on his face. He played by instinct. By gut. He’d
CHAPTER 93– THE SECOND ROUND: PETER'S GAMBIT
Peter remained composed, outwardly calm, but inside his mind was a roaring storm of calculations and possibilities.He ran through the most plausible reasons Naomi might have for discarding two Tens—a strong starting hand in almost any version of poker.First possibility:She could simply be aiming for a deliberately weak hand. Something like:> 10-Heart, 10-Diamond, 7-Clover, 4-Diamond, 3-Spade.If she were betting on weaker hands winning, that would make sense. But not entirely.Showing your weakness openly is suicidal, Peter thought. Especially when victory depends on betting more aggressively than your opponent.Second possibility:A more dangerous one.> A-Clover, 2-Diamond, 2-Heart, 10-Heart, 10-Diamond.Maybe she originally had two pairs—Tens and Twos—and was throwing away the Tens to trick him. Or worse:> 7-Heart, 7-Spade, 7-Diamond, 10-Heart, 10-Diamond.Maybe she had a full house and was bluffing to bait him into choosing "Stronger."In that case, if Peter misread the situa
CHAPTER 92 – THE SECOND ROUND BEGINS
The dealer methodically shuffled the cards, the clean snap of the deck cutting through the thick, charged air of the auditorium. With careful precision, she dealt five cards to each player, her movements smooth, mechanical, and utterly without emotion.Another round.Another battle.Peter kept his gaze trained on Naomi, not missing even the slightest twitch of her face, the faintest flicker of her fingertips.“Playing with unfamiliar rules is quite the challenge,” Naomi said lightly, her tone almost playful.Peter narrowed his eyes.Don’t let her fool you, he thought grimly. She’s not nervous. She’s enjoying this.And now… now Peter understood her.Unlike standard poker, Choice Poker wasn't about bluffing your way to a fold.In this game, the real power came from winning the right to choose: stronger or weaker.Because of that, a rational player should only raise by the minimum—just enough to steal the choice without risking too many chips.Anything more was reckless. Stupid, even.Bi
CHAPTER 91 — The First Hand of Choice Poker
The silence in the theatre-like hall was pierced by the sound of ceramic clinking against polished wood.The dealer—a poised woman with a professional grace and a face carved from calm—raised a single custom poker chip into the air. The chip gleamed under the lights, etched with the gold-trimmed insignia of Monte Carlo Gambling University. Its edges shimmered in hues of midnight blue and crimson velvet.“One chip will be worth ten million euros,” she declared, her voice smooth and clear, amplified just enough to be heard throughout the auditorium. “Now then…, how many would you like to start with?”Naomi didn’t hesitate. She smiled sweetly, folding her hands atop the table like a noble lady in court.“I currently have 310 million euros,” she said in a polite, almost too-innocent voice. “So, I’ll take 31 chips, please.”The dealer nodded, motioning to her assistants. A sleek black tray was brought forward, stacked neatly with thirty-one chips, each one glinting like treasure.Then the
Chapter 90 – The Odds
“The odds are against Peter? How so?” Grant asked, narrowing his eyes at Logan, trying to hide the worry creeping up his spine.Logan leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms, his voice calm but serious. “In ordinary poker, the player with more money has the upper hand. That's just a fact. Whoever controls the chips controls the pace of the game. If you have the larger stack, you can keep raising—over and over—until your opponent either folds or bleeds out.”Grant frowned. “Right, but that’s just normal poker. Isn’t this game a little different? You don’t lose automatically just because you have less money, right? You still get to play. You just don’t get to choose between stronger or weaker. That’s it.”“That’s it?” Logan repeated, chuckling darkly. “That one thing—that’s the whole game, Grant.”Grant blinked.Logan leaned forward now, speaking low but sharp, like he was trying to cut through the tension with every word. “The right to choose between stronger or weaker? That’s every
Chapter 89: The Rules of the Game
The stage lights dimmed as Peter and Naomi were ushered to their seats at the center of the circular platform. Two chairs faced each other beneath a low-hanging spotlight. Between them was a sleek, velvet-covered poker table. A hush fell over the crowd as the audience filled in around them, seated in rising tiers of deep crimson seats. It reminded Peter of a gladiator pit—only tonight, the weapons weren’t swords or spears. They were cards. And cash. Peter glanced out at the crowd. It was bigger than he expected—rows and rows of students, professors, spectators, and even masked officials from the gambling committee. Most of the faces were unfamiliar, but all wore the same expression: eager anticipation. Why the hell are they all here? Before Peter could gather his thoughts, a chime echoed across the hall. 9:00 p.m. Right on cue, the dealer walked onto the stage. She was a woman in her late thirties, with shoulder-length silver hair tied neatly in a braid that swung gently wi
