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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:
The Gambling System Chapter 35: False Pattern
……..[BET DETECTED: QUEST ACTIVATED – POKER DUELROUND 3]Objective: Win the game.Reward: +5 EXP.Penalty: -3 EXP.SKILLS AVAILABLE:1.Probability Vision2.Pattern Recognition Detector3.Tactical Vision4.Second Chance5.GAMBLER PROFILE….. Peter’s breathing was ragged, his pulse erratic. His hands trembled under the table, but he refused to let Dante see it. Refused to let anyone see it. He had played twice. Lost twice. And both times, it had felt like he was drowning—like no matter how hard he struggled, Dante had already seen the outcome.Poker was supposed to be a game of risk, of uncertainty. But against Dante, it felt like the outcome had been scripted from the start.That cold, emotionless stare. That unshakable confidence. That smirk.Peter hated that smirk.It was worse than an insult. Worse than Dante laughing in his face. It was pity.And that was something Peter Donovan could not stand.He had tried playing without the system. He had trusted his own
The Gambling System Chapter 36 – The Illusion of Strategy
Peter’s hands clenched into fists under the table. He could feel his pulse hammering in his ears, drowning out the noise of the room. The weight of another crushing defeat settled on his shoulders, suffocating and undeniable.Three rounds. Three losses.He had come in confident—no, desperate. Desperate to prove that he could compete. That he belonged here. That he could win.But Dante Whittemore-Knight had annihilated him. Every. Single. Time.Peter had used Probability Vision in their second match, believing that cold, hard math would finally give him the edge.He lost.Then, he tried Pattern Recognition Detector, thinking he could uncover Dante’s rhythms and habits, break through his unshakable composure.He lost again.Worse, he had trusted it—believed that Dante’s hesitation meant he had the upper hand. That the data was absolute.And yet, at the last second, Dante had flipped the entire game on its head.The system had been wrong.It had told him Dante was weaker. That
The Gambling System Chapter 37: Round 5
Peter’s breath came in ragged bursts, his pulse thundering against his skull like war drums. The weight of four consecutive losses settled over him like an avalanche, crushing, suffocating, relentless. He had nothing left but this final stack of chips—his last 100,000 euros.The room felt colder, though that was impossible. It was his own body betraying him, drenched in sweat despite the climate-controlled, luxurious interior of The Ace Court.All around, spectators whispered, their eyes flickering between him and Dante. Some with pity, some with amusement, but worst of all—some with boredom.Because at this point, they already knew how this would end.Just like the last four times.Defeat.Crushing. Overwhelming. Absolute.Dante sat across from him, calm, collected, untouched by pressure. His silver hair, pristine and unruffled. His posture, unwavering. His expression, that same unreadable mask of quiet superiority.He wasn’t even trying to humiliate Peter.That was what mad
The Gambling System Chapter 38 – The Impossible Gap
Peter sat frozen in his chair, the weight of his loss crushing him into the very fabric of reality.It was over.No money left to bet. No way to challenge Dante again.The second chance skill, pooped up but Peter would rather lose than use it again. After the hell he went through the last, why would do that to himself again.Other than that, he had used everything.Every skill. Every possible advantage the system could provide. And he still lost.Not just lost. He had been crushed.The room around him blurred. The whispers. The murmurs. The pity.Dante sat across from him, as calm as ever, as untouched as ever. His silver-white hair caught the soft glow of the lights, making him look more like some inhuman force of nature rather than a gambler.His expression? The same as before.Unreadable. Controlled. Supreme.Like he had already known this was how it would end.Like he had known from the very beginning.Peter’s fingers curled into his lap. His body felt hot and cold at
The Gambling System Chapter 39: The Aftermath
Peter returned home, dragging his feet through the doorway like a man carrying the weight of an entire casino on his back. The house felt emptier than usual, though nothing had changed. His body ached—not from physical exhaustion, but from the sheer emotional weight of the loss. Five games. Five humiliating defeats. And more than three million euros down the drain. His chest tightened at the thought. He had never even stood a chance.As he stepped further inside, his eyes landed on Noir, sprawled lazily on the couch, one leg draped over the other. She was dressed casually—an oversized shirt hanging just enough to reveal one smooth, bare shoulder. A glass of red wine rested between her fingers, the deep crimson swirling as she absentmindedly tilted the glass in slow circles.She didn’t even glance at him as she spoke.“How was the game?”Peter sank onto the sofa beside her, exhaling heavily as he let his head fall back. His limbs felt heavier than lead.“I lost.”Noir finally t
The Gambling System Chapter 40: Lesson 1
Noir reset the board with precise, practiced movements. The clacking of wooden pieces against the board filled the silence as she arranged them into their starting positions.“Alright,” she said, finishing the last adjustment before leaning back. “Your turn to play.”Peter blinked. “You’re white?”She smirked. “White always moves first. And this time, you’re the one learning. So go ahead.”Peter hesitated, then reached out and moved his pawn to e4—the most basic opening move in chess, one he had learned as a kid. It was simple, classical, and standard.Noir immediately responded by moving her pawn to e5, mirroring him.As she moved, her golden eyes flicked up to meet his.Noir smirked, resting her elbows on her knees as she stared directly at him.her words echoed in head again “I’m going to turn you into the greatest gambler to ever live.”Peter swallowed. The weight of her words settled heavily over him.His fingers hovered over the board, his mind no longer on the game. No
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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
