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

I made no subtle hints to Alaric. Although I sensed something amiss, it could very well have been mere paranoia on my part, lacking any tangible evidence. 


This round had Alaric as the dealer, and he began to shuffle the cards with a flourish. His shuffling technique employed a chaotic blend, reminiscent of a magician’s flair, ostensibly crafted to arrange the cards in a desired order, albeit somewhat ostentatiously. 


Once shuffled, after the blond player cut the deck, Alaric dealt the cards and initiated the betting. Like the previous round, he placed a bet of fifty without even glancing at his cards. His next player hesitated briefly before mirroring his wager. 


As the turn came to the blond player, he clutched the money, rhythmically tapping his fingers atop it. After a moment’s contemplation, he also placed a bet of fifty without checking his cards. The remaining players chose to either peek at their hands and fold, leaving only the three of them in the game. 


Chapter 183: The Swarm of Bees