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The Gambling System Chapter 57: Second Half
The second half was underway, and the air inside the stadium crackled with expectation.Down on the pitch, the ten-man Madrid Imperials braced for the inevitable onslaught. The Manchester Titans, already a powerhouse, now had the numerical advantage and the deadliest weapon in their arsenal—their star striker, freshly introduced from the bench. He was a game-changer, the kind of player who needed only a sliver of space, a fraction of a second, to punish a defense. And Madrid, battered and shorthanded, had to somehow hold the line.In the Viewing Centre, Peter sat frozen, every muscle in his body coiled with tension. The luxury around him—crystal glasses, velvet seats—was a distant blur. His world had been reduced to a single screen, to the flashing numbers that dictated his fortune. Every pass, every counterattack, every desperate clearance was a shift in probability, an invisible tug on the strings of fate.✅ Madrid to Win or Draw → Still in play.✅ Over 2.5 Goals → Already secur
The Gambling System Chapter 58 – The Third Round Begins
The room was silent.A silence so thick, so absolute, it felt like the world itself was holding its breath.Peter’s pulse pounded in his ears, the weight of his last win still pressing against his ribs. 158.6 million euros. The largest victory of his career. A sum that would make even the most seasoned gamblers lose their composure.But Logan had won more.1.4 million more.It was a meaningless margin. A fraction of a fraction.And yet it meant everything.Logan sat across from him, perfectly composed. He wasn’t gloating. He wasn’t celebrating. He simply swirled the ice in his whiskey glass, watching Peter with that quiet, unreadable smirk. Not mocking. Not condescending. Just waiting.Waiting for Peter to break.A slow breath. A sharp exhale.Then, Peter leaned forward and slammed his palm onto the table.🔥 "Again." 🔥The words cut through the silence like a blade.Logan raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening ever so slightly. Amusement flickered in his eyes, but only f
The Gambling System Chapter 59: Racecourse
The Royal Derby Racecourse pulsed with an almost electric energy, the kind that surged through the veins of gamblers, enthusiasts, and dreamers alike. The grandstands overflowed, a living, breathing sea of bodies, each person adding their own voice to the chaotic symphony of cheers, laughter, and anxious whispers.Peter stood near the VIP betting lounge, the hum of high-stakes wagers and whispered strategies buzzing around him like static in the air. The scent of freshly cut turf mingled with the sharp bite of expensive cigars and the effervescence of champagne, a stark contrast to the raw tension tightening in his chest.His fingers curled around a glass of whiskey—untouched. Not out of hesitation, but because his mind was too consumed with the towering digital display above the racetrack, where odds flickered and shifted like the heartbeat of the betting world. Millions were on the line tonight.Race Conditions🔹 Track: Slightly damp, but good footing. The morning drizzle had s
The Gambling System Chapter 60: Second Chance
[Activate: Second Chance.]The moment Peter activated Second Chance, reality fractured.The world lurched backward, violently yanked by an unseen force. Colors bled into streaks of motion, sounds distorted into warped echoes, and then—everything reversed.The massive race screen played in high-speed rewind—jockeys sat upright from falls, dirt unscattered from hooves, horses uncrossed the finish line. The cheers of the crowd sucked inward, voices turning into alien syllables. Then came the pain.It was like his brain had been ripped from his skull, stretched, and shoved back in—fracturing, breaking, reforming. His lungs locked, his stomach twisted into a vicious knot, and the sheer weight of time itself crushed him.Somewhere, distantly, he thought he might be screaming.Then—Silence.Peter’s body slammed back into reality.His breath tore from his lungs, raw and ragged. His vision spun, his skin clammy with cold sweat. A familiar nausea clawed up his throat, and before he
The Gambling System Chapter 61: The Gentleman’s Game
The fourth round began.Victory still clung to Peter like a second skin, its warmth settling deep into his bones, its thrill a heady rush of adrenaline coursing through his every thought. He had won. Finally. A foothold in this war. A breath of control in the chaos.The score stood at 2-1—Logan still in the lead. But that didn’t matter. Not anymore.Because Peter had something far more valuable than a single win.A second chance. A guarantee.Second Chance had turned the tide in his favor, letting him rewrite his mistakes, glimpse beyond the present, bend fate to his will. But the side effects…A wailing storm inside his skull.A relentless pull, like a rubber band stretched too thin, on the verge of snapping.A constant gnawing at the edges of his mind, whispering of consequences yet to come.Peter gritted his teeth and shoved it all aside. Pain was irrelevant. Doubt was irrelevant. Only the game mattered.The wheel spun.Click-click-click.The symbols blurred—football, b
The Gambling System 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
The Gambling System 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
The Gambling System 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
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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
