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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
The Gambling System Chapter 41: lecture
It has been five days since his last gamble, and on Noir’s instruction went to attend gambling lecture. They weren’t compulsory to pass, but for a newbie like himself, Peter needed every piece of gambling knowledge he could get to survive.Peter slumped into a chair near the back of the lecture hall, trying not to look like he had just dragged himself out of the depths of hell. Losing to Dante had drained him of every ounce of confidence. His head still buzzed with frustration, and every time he blinked, he saw those damn Aces—mocking him, reminding him of how brutally he had been crushed.Now, he was sitting in a classroom, waiting for some professor to talk about gambling like it was a science.Like there were rules to something so cruelly unpredictable.The lecture hall itself looked like it belonged in a billionaire’s mansion. Gold-trimmed pillars, velvet seats, and a massive LED screen stretching across the front like a casino scoreboard. The students around him exuded quiet
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Chapter 97: A Battle Beyond Money
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
