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

Dark and I cautiously approached the door. 


Upon reaching the entrance, Dark lifted his foot and with a resounding crash, the wooden door fell ajar. 


Within the modest space, an elderly man and a young girl were observing us. 


The elder reclined on a makeshift bed made of cardboard, despite it being summer, covered by a filthy thick blanket. 


The young girl, a street urchin, stood by the bedside, clutching a bottle of water. 


Startled by our sudden entrance, a flicker of panic flashed in the girl's bright eyes, while the dishevelled old man remained eerily composed. 


Without engaging in idle chatter, Dark brandished his rolling pin, pointing it menacingly at the girl as he scolded, "You filthy beggar, how dare you steal my money! Return it at once…" 


I had expected the girl to be frightened enough to produce the money without hesitation. 


To my surprise, however, she defiantly lifted her chin, glaring at Dark and retorted, "You idiot, you're the beggar here..." 


Chapter 23: The Thieves' Sect