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

The gambling session raged on, yet my focus had shifted from the players around me. Like yesterday, I began surveying my surroundings once more. 


At the Three Card Poker table, the long-haired woman from yesterday was still fiercely engaged in the game. Dex roamed restlessly, observing the various tables. 


The individuals sent by Branwen were scattered across the room; some watched with curiosity, while others feigned being gamblers at the poker tables. I had already briefed them on the situation before we arrived, and now they awaited my command. 


The walls surrounding us were stark and barren, devoid of any adornments or coverings—just plain, unremarkable white plaster. 


Chapter 128: The Confrontation