2026-01-01 02:18:06A stench of despair greeted David the moment he descended the concrete stairs behind a butcher shop in Queens. "The Red Velvet."
Dim red neon lights illuminated the cramped basement. Thick cigar smoke billowed, and the clinking of coins, shouted curses, and the whirring of slot machines formed a deafening background symphony. Franky walked behind David, hugging himself as if he were cold. "Dave, seriously," Franky whispered, his eyes darting nervously, scanning the giant guards stationed in every corner. "This place belongs to Sal 'The Knuckles.' He's Don Moretti's subordinate. If we get caught cheating, they'll turn us into sausage filling at the shop upstairs." David ignored him. He walked straight, despite his ragged clothes, his blue eyes locked on a single point: the Roulette table in the center of the room. "I don't need luck, Franky," David murmured softly. "I have math." He stopped at the edge of the green table. The dealer, a thin man with a red vest and shifty eyes, stared at David’s tramp-like appearance. "Fifty-dollar minimum bet! Bums like you dare to wager that much?" the dealer sneered, his fingers toying with the small ivory ball. David reached into his pocket, pulled out Franky's last crumpled bills, and placed them on the green felt. "All of it," David said flatly. "Dave!" Franky hissed, tugging David's sleeve. "That's our last money! Just bet on 'Red' or 'Black,' the odds are 50:50!" David brushed Franky's hand away. "Shut up, Franky!" Inside David's mind, the system chimed. [Skill Active: Probability Eye] [Cost: 12 Hours of Life. Confirm?] "Confirm," David thought. Instantly, the world in David's eyes changed. Green neon lines appeared in the air, visualizing the ball's trajectory, the speed of the wheel's rotation, the friction of the cloth, and even the tremor in the dealer's hand. Thousands of numbers floated in the air, calculating probabilities in nanoseconds. David pushed the stack of money onto a single number—the number with the lowest probability but the highest payout. "Number 17. Black," David stated. The dealer laughed mockingly. "A dead number? You want to throw your money away?" The dealer spun the wooden wheel hard, then flicked the ivory ball in the opposite direction. *Trrrrrt.* The ball spun, bouncing wildly between the numbered partitions. Franky closed his eyes, muttering prayers. The other gamblers stared cynically, waiting for the fool to lose his money. In David's eyes, everything moved in slow motion. He watched the green line guide the ball. It slowed... bounced off 32... then 5... and finally dropped softly, locking perfectly into the black slot. 17! "Holy cow!" the onlookers shouted. The dealer's eyes widened. Franky's mouth dropped open, nearly drooling. "Thirty-five times the amount," David said calmly. "Pay up." With trembling hands, the dealer pushed a stack of chips worth $1,750 toward David. "Again," David ordered. He didn't take the chips. He pushed everything onto another number. "Number 0. Green." "You're insane!" the dealer whispered. "That's suicide!" "Just spin the ball," David challenged. The ball spun again. Once more, the neon lines in David's eyes didn't lie. The ball landed precisely on 0. The crowd grew loud. "He won again! This crazy guy won again!" The $1,750 had turned into $61,250 in seconds. "Again," David said coldly. Suddenly, a large, hairy hand gripped David's shoulder. "That's enough, pal," a heavy voice boomed. "The boss wants a word with you. In the back." Two gorilla-sized security guards, wearing cheap, tight black suits, were already flanking David. "Dave..." Franky trembled, his face pale as a sheet. "I told you..." "Relax, Franky. Take the money. Cash it out," David ordered casually. He turned to the guard. "Show me the way." They dragged David through the filthy casino kitchen toward a back iron door that led to a narrow, dark alley smelling of garbage. As soon as the iron door slammed shut, the guard with the burn scar shoved David hard against the brick wall. "Who the hell do you think you are, huh?" the guard snapped, pulling a telescopic metal baton from inside his jacket. "Counting cards? Using magnets? Nobody gets that lucky in Sal's place." "I didn't cheat," David replied, brushing dust off his shoulder. "I'm just smarter than you." "Smarter?" The second guard laughed, cracking his knuckles. "Let's see how smart you are when we break your fingers one by one." The first guard swung his metal baton toward David's head. The movement was fast and lethal. To an ordinary person, it was an unavoidable attack. But for David, whose adrenaline was boosted by the system, the movement was slow as a snail. [Warning: Physical Threat Detected.] [Skill Active: Combat Mastery (Self-Defense) Lv. 1. Cost: 24 Hours.] David didn't dodge. He stepped inside the attack range. His left hand seized the guard's wrist just before the baton landed. *GRAB.* "Wha—?!" The guard was stunned. David's grip felt like a hydraulic machine. "Your technique is poor. Too much wind-up," David criticized coldly. With a single jerk, David twisted the guard's arm in an unnatural direction. *KRAAAAAK!* The sound of the ulna and radius snapping simultaneously was horrifying. "ARGGGHHH!" The guard screamed, his metal baton clattering onto the asphalt. Before the second guard could react, David had retrieved the metal baton with his foot, kicked it into the air, caught it, and in one fluid motion, slammed it into the bald guard's knee. *CRACK!* The kneecap shattered. The bald guard instantly collapsed, roaring in pain while clutching his leg, which was now bent the wrong way. David stood tall between the two giants, who were now writhing on the ground like worms on hot pavement. He hadn't killed them. He had merely destroyed their future as enforcers. "My arm! My arm is shattered!" the guard roared. [Warning: Approaching threat detected.....searching for solution to eliminate threat] [Threat named Sal...Weakness: Elena Moretti......] David smiled faintly upon hearing the information provided by the system. The casino's back door opened again. This time, a middle-aged man in a sharp suit with a cigar in his mouth stepped out. He was escorted by four men armed with pistols. This was Sal "The Knuckles," the casino boss. Sal looked at his two best men, who were crippled in seconds, and then looked at David. However, Sal didn't look angry. He looked... interested. "Incredible!" Sal said, exhaling cigar smoke. "You walk in looking like a bum, rob my casino, and cripple two of my gorillas without breaking a sweat. Who are you, really? A cop? A secret agent?" David walked toward Sal, ignoring the four pistols now aimed at his head. "I'm not a cop, Sal. I'm the solution to your problem," David stated, causing Sal to frown slightly. "Problem? I only have one problem, and that's you!" Sal signaled his men to prepare to shoot. "Wrong!" David shook his head slowly. "Your problem is your boss's daughter. Elena Moretti." Sal froze. The cigar in his mouth nearly dropped. This was high-level confidential information. No outsider knew about the hidden condition of Don Moretti's daughter.
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An Embrace on the Wooden Porch
"Thank you very much for the ride, Sir. Please keep the change to buy coffee on the road."An incredibly familiar woman's voice broke the tension that had been choking the afternoon air. The passenger door of the black sedan was pulled open slowly.David Vexley exhaled the breath he had been holding in his throat. The tense, stiff muscles of his body slowly relaxed. The grip of his right hand on the handle of the fruit-peeling knife loosened instantly. The small knife fell clattering onto the wooden floorboards of the caravan porch.It was not a secret agent from the remnants of the corporation stepping out of the luxury car. Nor was it an assassin sent to collect his family's lives.The person who stepped down carrying a tote bag filled with food boxes was Elena. His wife had just returned from her job as a convenience store manager in the city center. The shiny black car was merely a premium-class ride-hailing vehicle that happened to pass by on the app because regular transport car
Days Without a Crown
"Dad cut the skin too thick again."Arthur's cheerful voice broke the afternoon silence on the creaking wooden porch. The autumn wind gently blew dry leaves across their front yard.Six months had passed since the Antarctic sky stopped burning their sanity. Time seemed to leap forward, burying the past under a pile of mortal routines. There were no more magnificent glass palaces, no more uniformed servants, and no more cosmic energy shields. They now lived in a very cramped rented caravan on the quiet outskirts of town. The white paint on the caravan's outer walls was peeling in many places, revealing rusty metal decaying from the weather. Their front yard was not a garden filled with rare flowers, but an expanse of hard, dirty, and dusty rocky ground.David Vexley sat leaning back in a worn plastic chair. A sturdy oak walking stick rested against his knee. The man's body, once worshipped like a Greek god's statue, was now covered in thick scars stretching from
Sunrise Over the Ruins
"Everything was truly swallowed by the earth. Disgusting and relieving at the same time."Mei Lin's voice, hoarse from dust and exhaustion, broke the silence of the dawn. The warrior woman sat catching her breath, staring straight down the hill.The long rumble that had been tearing the earth apart finally subsided. Below the hill where the five of them took shelter, the magnificent AgriGen facility had vanished without a trace. There was no more glass tower to be Chancellor Vane's pride. There was no more underground laboratory where Arthur was tortured. All that remained was a giant, gaping crater, swallowing all the corporate concrete, steel, and deadly technology into a black mud that still emitted hot steam.Morning began to break the night on the eastern horizon. The first rays of sunlight pierced the low-hanging grey clouds, illuminating the dew clinging to the tips of the wild grass where they lay helpless.There was no victory music playing from
The Remnants of the Troops
"Hold onto my shoulder tighter, Dave! Do not let go!" Elena screamed.Her voice was almost swallowed by the roar of concrete grinding against concrete. The ceiling of the executive room began to crack lengthwise, dropping chunks of cement and white dust onto the carpet. The floor beneath their feet tilted extremely, as if the entire building were being pulled into the belly of the earth.David Vexley gritted his teeth, forcing his right leg, whose knee was shattered, to take a step. He leaned most of his body weight on Elena. Every movement triggered an incredibly sharp pain from his bullet-riddled stomach. Blood continued to seep out, soaking Elena's waist as she supported him with great difficulty."I am burdening you, El. Leave me," David groaned hoarsely."Shut your mouth, David Vexley! I will not let you die in this place!" Elena retorted with an anger filled with panic. She dragged her husband through the thick smoke beginning to fill the room.
A Father's Trembling Hand
"Die, you Bastard!"Elena's stifled scream broke the suffocating silence inside the executive room. After the brutal and sickening struggle that had just occurred, there were no more words of arrogance from Chancellor Vane's lips. The middle-aged man had bled to death on the carpet. The only remaining sounds in the room were the crackle of fire devouring the remnants of the drone near the glass wall, blending with David Vexley's breathing. The mortal father's breath sounded extremely harsh, rattling from his throat exactly like a broken whistle clogged with thick fluid.In the corner of the room, the security guard who had pinned Elena down earlier was still shocked to see his commander dead with a torn neck. That shock became his fatal weakness.Elena didn't waste a single second. The Mafia Queen, her survival instincts rekindled, grabbed a solid ceramic flower vase lying near the table leg. With her remaining desperate strength, Elena swung the vase and smashe
The Bite of a Wild Dog
The burning heat tore through David Vexley's stomach. Two lead bullets pierced his flesh, mercilessly shredding his intestines. The former ruler of the world coughed up thick black blood into the air, his utterly ruined body finally collapsing beside Arthur's operating chair. His right hand clutched the white carpeted floor, which was now turning into a puddle of deep red. His breathing was short, sounding like a whistle clogged with fluid."Dad! Dad, wake up!" Arthur's hysterical scream filled the room, mixing with the cries of Elena struggling in the arms of the remaining conscious guards.Chancellor Vane did not laugh. He no longer radiated the calm authority of a politician. His aristocratic face morphed into a mask of anger covered in cold sweat. He stepped forward, his expensive leather shoes crunching on broken glass, walking toward David's helplessly sprawled body."You truly are an incredibly hard insect to kill, Miller," Vane hissed, his voice tremblin
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