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

No sooner had he finished speaking than the Centipede swaggered over to the table, casually snatching a bath towel from the shelf to lay upon the surface. He tossed down his two decks of playing cards and, with a mock flourish, gestured for me to join him, grinning malevolently. 


"Come on, kid! Let's continue our game today!" 


The lobby manager, realizing he couldn't dissuade the Centipede and wishing to avoid any entanglements, cast a glance my way before murmuring, "You can play a few rounds with the Centipede; I have other matters to attend to…" With that, he discreetly departed. 


A sense of unease washed over me. Why, with an established gaming area available, was the Centipede so intent on gambling in this dim, cluttered supply room? Could it be that among his entourage lurked a skilled gambler, fearing exposure at the casino and thus opting for this hidden haven? 


Chapter 32: Defying Expectations