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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
The Gambling System 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
The Gambling System 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
The Gambling System 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
The Gambling System 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
The Gambling System 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,
Latest Chapter
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
