During the years when I ascended to the pinnacle of gambling, I was enveloped in a world where luck intertwined seamlessly with strategy. The thrill of risk was my constant companion, and every hand dealt was an opportunity to weave a tale of fortune and fate.

In those vibrant nights, the casino lights flickered like stars, each glimmer promising untold possibilities. The air was thick with the scent of anticipation and the intoxicating perfume of ambition. My every decision was calculated, and executed with precision, as I danced with the tides of chance, confident in my ability to bend them to my will.

I became known not only for my remarkable skill but also for a certain charisma that drew others to me. Players regarded me with a mix of admiration and trepidation, for I was not merely a participant in the game—I was its master. The cards whispered secrets to me, and I understood the language of the dice as if they belonged to a realm where I reigned supreme.

Yet, amidst the glamour and glory, this intoxicating world concealed its shadows. The very allure that elevated me to greatness also harboured treachery and deception. I found myself ensnared in a web woven by those who coveted my prowess, eager to see me fall from grace.

In those years, I walked a fine line between triumph and disaster, relishing every victory while remaining ever-vigilant against the unseen perils that lurked in the shadows.

The Years I Was The Gambling God

Naturally, this was all part of my design. 


I intended for everyone but the Centipede to emerge victorious this round. 


In doing so, suspicions of me cheating would be unfounded. 


Bestowing Dark with three identical threes was a deliberate act to shift the wealth to him. 


Considering the tumultuous nature of such gatherings, funds were far safer in Dark's lair akin to the Black Tower than in my possession. 


Regrettably, the events that ensued proved my initial assumptions wrong. 


The Centipede, eyeing Dark's three matching threes, harboured not just jealousy but a profound sense of resentment. 


The Centipede, grinding his teeth, held back his ire for a moment. 


Only then did he turn to Dark, spitting out with venom: 


"Dark, with your three matching numbers, you shall bank, and I shall continue to press!" 


Yet, in such grand affairs, there were invariably loan sharks aplenty. 


Chapter 22: The Sparrow Trails Behind