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The Gambling System Chapter 27: Six million euros
They both agreed on a game of Baccarat, A game of prestige, chance, and gut instincts. One of the oldest and most respected gambling games in the world, played in the grandest casinos by the wealthiest elites. Yet, beneath all its grandeur, the rules were simple. Two hands were played—the Player and the Banker. The goal was straightforward: get as close to nine as possible. Numbered cards 2 through 9 carried their face value, while 10s, Jacks, Queens, and Kings were worth zero. Aces were one. If a hand’s total exceeded nine, only the last digit counted. For example, a hand with a 7 and an 8—which would normally be 15—was actually worth 5. There were no complicated strategies, no deep calculations like in blackjack or poker. It was a game of pure probability, a gamble in its truest form. And Peter? Peter had never played it before. “How much does the pizza boy even have to gamble?” Viktor sneered, lounging in his chair like a king on his throne. Peter didn’t flinch.
The Gambling System Chapter 28: The restroom
They went to den’s restroom The restroom was immaculate, almost eerily so, considering the chaos of the gambling floor outside. The walls were lined with black marble, polished to a mirror sheen, reflecting the dim, golden glow of the overhead lights. The air smelled of expensive cologne and fresh linen, a stark contrast to the thick, smoky musk of the casino. Everything was pristine—too perfect, too lifeless, like a luxury hotel bathroom that had never been touched.It was a huge contrast from the gambling ground.Naomi dragged Peter inside, her grip iron-tight, and immediately turned to bolt the door behind them. The click of the lock echoed sharply, sealing them away from the world outside.“You have five seconds,” she said, her voice cold, distant.Peter blinked, still catching his breath from the sudden retreat. “What?” he asked, confused.“That’s all you’re getting,” she said flatly. “Four seconds left.”Panic set in. Five seconds? That wasn’t what they agreed on. He had
The Gambling System Chapter 29: Was she right?
Peter remained at the restroom of the gambling den till the late hours of the day. He sat on the floor, frozen in despair. And when he finally took his leave, he left his bike at the gambling den and walked home. His legs felt like lead, each step heavier than the last. He wasn’t just exhausted—he was hollow.The night air was thick with humidity, clinging to his skin like a damp sheet. Streetlights flickered overhead, casting long, distorted shadows on the cracked pavement. The city still buzzed around him—cars honking, people laughing, the faint hum of distant music—but it all felt muted, like he was trapped in a vacuum, completely detached from the world around him.He had lost.Not just at the gambling table, but in every possible way.Naomi had humiliated him, had ripped him apart from the inside out, and the worst part?She wasn’t wrong.Peter reached the trailer park, stepping over puddles of dirty rainwater as he approached the small, rusted metal box he called home. It
The Gambling System Chapter 30: His Decision
Peter’s mother sat on the hospital bed, her frail hands resting on the crisp white sheets, her eyes lost in the endless expanse of the morning sky. The soft golden light of dawn seeped through the glass window, bathing the room in warmth. A smile graced her lips, small and serene. It was almost 8 a.m.—Peter would be arriving soon.But at this moment, her thoughts weren’t on her son.Her mind wandered back to him.Peter’s father.She imagined what he would say if he could see their son now. How proud he would be. How much he would see himself in Peter. Would he smile? Would his eyes gleam with that same fire they used to have, back when he was young and reckless, believing the world was something he could conquer?A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.She turned just as a nurse stepped in, holding an envelope in her hand.“This came in for you, Mrs. Donovan.”Her brow furrowed. A letter?Who still sent letters in this day and age?She took it, confusion flick
The Gambling System Chapter 31: Clearance
Peter stepped through the gates of Monte Carlo Gambling University, and for the first time, he truly felt the weight of where he was. The campus was magnificent, unlike anything he had ever seen before. Gleaming marble pathways stretched out before him, leading towards grandiose structures of glass and steel that seemed to touch the sky. The university grounds were immaculate, each blade of grass perfectly trimmed, the fountains cascading with water so clear it looked like liquid crystal. Luxury cars—the kind Peter had only ever seen in magazines—lined the entrance, their polished exteriors gleaming under the sunlight. The students walking past were clad in designer suits, exuding confidence and elegance, as if they belonged to a world completely separate from his own.Peter, in stark contrast, stood there in his wrinkled navy-blue blazer, his shirt slightly untucked, and scuffed black shoes that had seen better days. His entire appearance screamed out of place, and he felt it more
The Gambling System Chapter 32:Sharing the bed
Peter spun around so fast he nearly tripped over himself, slapping a hand over his face in a desperate attempt to erase what he had just seen. But it was too late. Noir’s nude figure was forever burned into his memory. Her skin glistened with water droplets, each one tracing along the soft, smooth curves of her body before dripping onto the pristine marble shower floor. The steam from the shower clung to her, swirling like a misty veil, enhancing the golden glow of her sun-kissed skin. Her raven-black hair, damp and sticking to her neck and shoulders, added to her allure. The way she stood, completely unbothered, exuding nothing but confidence, sent Peter’s brain into a meltdown. Goddamn it. What the hell is wrong with her?! “WHAT THE HELL?!” Peter shouted, his face burning hotter than the sun. “C-Cover up or something!” Noir tilted her head, amused, reached for a nearby towel with calm, deliberate movements, the fabric barely covering her as she wrapped it around hers
The Gambling System Chapter 33: Texas Hold’em
Peter felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. The same mysterious, sharp-eyed boy from the lavatory. The one who had stared into Peter’s soul and whispered: “You have his eyes.” “The man I must gamble, beat, and kill.” Peter’s jaw clenched. The White Knight stood there, his presence as suffocating as before. His icy silver hair framed his sharp, angular face. His piercing gray eyes held no emotion—just an intense, unwavering stare, as if he had already planned every move, every outcome, every victory before Peter had even walked into the room. He was dressed immaculately, donning a tailored white suit with silver embroidery, making him look less like a gambler and more like royalty preparing for war. And yet, despite his composed exterior, there was something... unsettling about him. Something that made every hair on Peter’s body stand on end. The White Knight’s face expressionless “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show up.” Peter’s f
The Gambling System Chapter 34: Illusion of Chance
Peter’s fingers trembled slightly as he shoved his last 100,000-euro chip forward. His heart pounded against his ribs, his pulse erratic with frustration, humiliation, and an unbearable, boiling anger directed at one thing.Himself.How could he have been so stupid?He had played like a reckless amateur in the first round. No system. No strategy. Just gut instinct. And he got crushed.That was his fault.His jaw clenched, his body rigid with frustration. His opponent—the ever-stoic, ever-unshaken Dante Whittemore-Knight—remained composed as he matched the bet with 110,000 euros, once again ensuring he controlled the game.It was infuriating.That calmness. That absolute confidence.Dante wasn’t just playing cards. He was dominating the table. And the worst part? Peter had let him.The first round had been a humiliation, but he refused to walk away like a fool. He would adapt. He would win.……..[BET DETECTED: QUEST ACTIVATED – POKER DUEL]Objective: Win the game.Reward:
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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
Chapter 62: Scripted?
As the final wicket fell, as Australia erupted in celebration and England trudged off in defeat, Peter leaned back in his chair. He exhaled, slow and measured.Logan leaned back in his seat, his posture relaxed, his smirk just shy of arrogance. The dim light of the viewing center caught the sharp angles of his face, the smooth glint of his whiskey glass as he tilted it slightly in his fingers. The ice clinked.“Are you kidding me?” Logan mused, shaking his head. “What a waste.”Peter didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he exhaled slowly, as if savoring something unseen. The weight of the race still hummed in his bones, the echoes of the crowd, the pounding of hooves, the adrenaline-fueled final stretch—it was all still there, just beneath the surface.But Logan?Logan had no idea.Peter rolled his shoulders, stretching his fingers against the polished wood of the table. His body still felt heavy, like he’d been run over, his nerves raw from the strain of what had just happened—w
