The next day finally arrived. Autumn had fully set in across Monte Carlo Gambling University — the crisp air biting with an edge of chill, fallen leaves skittering across the cobblestone pathways.And there they were.Peter and Chloe marching through the winding campus grounds toward their destination — the grand Designated Gambling Hall. Their paths aligned, yet their thoughts worlds apart.“I’m going to win this gamble and prove myself.”For Peter, the need was primal. Unquenchable. It radiated from every step, a hunger that no one had to explain — you could see it in his eyes, in the set of his jaw.Chloe’s resolve, though just as fierce, was buried beneath layers of carefully constructed artifice. She wore her usual corporate-inspired attire: a crisp white blouse tucked into a fitted black pencil skirt, tailored charcoal blazer hugging her slender frame. On her feet — sharp black heels that clicked a steady rhythm across the polished floors. Her look was elegant, cold, commanding

"System, give me the probability odds of the remaining tiles landing a 4X."---[PROBABILITY VISION ACTIVATED]Calculating...Using Probability Vision for 8 tiles will cost 24 minutes.Would you like to proceed?{YES/NO}---“Yes.”---[TIME BANK: 121 minutes → 97 minutes][Skill Activated: Probability Vision (Level 3)]Calculating...---Tile 1: 30%Tile 3: 17%Tile 4: 11%Tile 5: 18%Tile 7: 12%Tile 8: 25%Tile 9: 9%Tile 10: 22%---Peter’s eyes flicked across the shimmering data overlay on his display, absorbing it all in a heartbeat. Sweat prickled beneath his collar, but he kept his breathing steady.His first flip had landed. But Chloe’s cold 5X had already shifted the entire flow of the match.No more room for safe moves.Still… he couldn’t risk a reckless one.Tile 1. Best odds. Highest probability. No hesitation.Peter extended a single finger toward the board. The surface of Tile 1 pulsed faintly beneath the glass-like sheen, as though sensing the weight of the moment.He

The final rotation slowed...Click.The tile locked.A pause — stretched too long.Peter leaned in.And then — the number flared into view.NEGATIVE FOUR MULTIPLIER.–4XThe red pulsed across the board like a warning siren, deep and final.Peter stared.Froze.Time stopped.“What the fuck...” he whispered, the words falling out of him like broken glass.The crowd gasped — not just surprised, but horrified. A ripple of stunned silence spread through the arena. Even the anchor didn’t speak — for a moment.Then:“...OH NO.”The Anchor's voice cracked with disbelief. “Peter Donovan has landed a –4X! That’s the highest penalty on the board!”Gasps turned to roars. Shouts. Chaos.It was like someone had thrown a match into dry brush — disbelief ignited into pandemonium. The arena screens zoomed in on Peter’s face, pale and stunned. His chest rose and fell, sharp and uneven.Across from him, Chloe didn’t blink. She didn’t smirk.She simply tilted her head. One degree.As if saying: Now we’re

Chapter 141For a second, Johnny did not breathe.The sniper’s body dropped.It happened fast, but not fast enough.He saw it.The man falling backwards, arms loose, boots scraping uselessly against the wall. The broken glass around the window frame caught the sunlight as the body passed through it. And there—still clenched tight in the tactical vest—Johnny’s hand.His hand.They fell together.Fourteen floors.Johnny leaned over the window before he could stop himself.The wind hit his face hard. It smelled like dust, smoke, and something burnt from the fight. Far below, the street looked unreal. Small cars. Tiny people.Then—A distant sound.A heavy, sickening impact.Even from that height, he heard it.A dull crack against concrete.Johnny’s stomach twisted.For a moment, everything went quiet.Then the pain arrived.It did not build slowly.It exploded.“Aaaahhh!”He fell backward into the room, clutching his arm. Or what was left of it.Blood poured from the open stump in violen