TheTrial

Synopsis: When the Gods Play Dice

Nile, a struggling father drowning in debt and regret, fights to keep his family afloat in a world that seems determined to break him. But when a sudden blackout engulfs his apartment, everything changes.

He wakes in chains, thrown into a gladiator’s arena where survival is the only rule. Stripped of his old life, he must fight or die. But as the battles rage on, reality begins to fracture—one moment, he’s dodging arrows on a medieval battlefield; the next, he’s hunted by AI in a dystopian wasteland. Each world twists into a nightmarish reflection of his past failures, forcing him to question what is real and what is merely part of a cruel, divine game.

As Nile struggles to survive, he makes a chilling discovery: belief shapes reality. The world bends to his thoughts, and the rulers he faces are echoes of the men who once controlled his fate. The king, the tyrant above him, is more than just an oppressor—he is a reflection of Nile’s real-life struggles. And if Nile can endure, if he can win, he will be granted a wish-his one chance to return home.

But the gods are watching. The game is rigged. And if Nile cannot break the cycle, he may never escape at all.

When the Gods Play Dice

Early the next morning, the prison was stirred awake by the heavy footsteps of approaching guards. The iron gates creaked open, and a deep voice rang through the dimly lit chamber.

"All five of King Greg's wives have returned."

Murmurs spread among the prisoners—confusion, curiosity, and unease flashing across their weary faces. But no one reacted more than one man.

His head snapped up, muscles tensing like a coiled spring. For a moment, he remained still, processing the words. Then, without hesitation, he pushed himself to his feet and stormed toward the exit.

The guards barely spared him a glance as he shoved past them, his steps heavy against the stone floors. He knew exactly where to go.

When he arrived, King Greg was already waiting. Draped in opulent silks and golden ornaments, he lounged upon his throne, a goblet of wine in hand. A smirk played on his lips as he watched Aron approach.

"Well, well," the king drawled, swirling his drink lazily. "Look who finally decided to show himself."

Aron stopped a few feet away, fists clenched at his sides. "Where are they?"

The king chuckled, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. "You mean your wives?" He took a sip before setting the goblet down. "They're right where I left them. In the dungeons."

A muscle twitched in Aron's jaw. "You promised me a wish. I wished for them. They belong to me."

King Greg leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand, his grin widening. "Ah, but you never wished for wealth. Never asked for land, food, or power. You only wanted five women. Tell me, Aron—how do you plan to feed them? Where will you shelter them?"

His eyes glinted with cruel amusement. "Did you think I'd provide for them?"

Aron's breath hitched. His mind raced. He had been so consumed with winning, with claiming his reward, that he had never considered the cost.

The king's laughter echoed through the grand chamber. "They are locked away, Aron. Until they starve. Until they rot."

The words struck like a blade to the gut. Aron took a step forward, his hand twitching toward the weapon at his side.

The guards flanking the king tensed, hands on their hilts, ready to cut him down at the first sign of defiance.

But before anything could happen, King Greg raised a hand. The room fell silent.

Then, with a slow, calculated smirk, he spoke.

"I'll give you one more chance."

Aron's breathing was heavy, controlled only by sheer will. "What do you mean?"

The king leaned back, feigning boredom. "Win the arena again. And I'll grant you a second wish. This time, perhaps you'll make a smarter choice."

The smirk deepened. "Choose wealth. Choose land. Choose something that will keep your precious wives from starving."

Aron's body trembled with rage, his nails digging into his palms. He had no choice. He knew that. The king knew that.

This was never about granting wishes. It was about control.

"One more thing," King Greg added, eyes gleaming with amusement. "You will fight under a mask. No one will know your face until the end."

Aron's breath caught. Of course.

The king wasn't just forcing him to fight.

Stripping away the champion's identity. Making sure that when Aron stepped into that arena again, no one would chant his name. No one would know his story.

Just another nameless gladiator, destined to kill and bleed for the crowd's entertainment.

Aron swallowed hard, his jaw locking. He knew the game the king was playing.

And he had no choice but to play along.

Chapter 5: The King’s Game