The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock

CHAPTER 5

Klaus, now miles from the hospital, found himself in the back of a dimly lit café, the hum of conversation blending with the clinking of glasses. His heart was still pounding.

The mortuary. The escape. The system.

He exhaled sharply and focused. With a thought, he tapped into the strange presence lurking in his mind.

A glowing interface materialized in his vision.

[Name: Klaus Whitlock]

[Skills: Perception (E Grade) // Mirage (F Grade)]

He frowned. This still didn’t make sense. Was he hallucinating? Dreaming?

Then, another notification blinked into existence.

[Mission: Earn 10 million dollars using the gift of gambling.]

[Reward: 10,000 coins, 1,000 EXP, Steeze +10, One Skill Upgrade.]

[Failure to complete the task within the time frame (5 hours) will result in severe penalties.]

Klaus nearly choked on his breath. "Excuse me?" he muttered under his breath. Ten million dollars? That wasn’t gambling—that was lunacy.

His fingers drummed against the table as he considered his options. The system had saved his ass earlier, but it didn’t mean he trusted it.

“What exactly is the gift of gambling?” he asked, his voice low.

[This is the innate talent of Eris, granted to you as his avatar, allowing you to succeed in any game of chance.]

[Luck stat: 100 pts.]

Klaus blinked. That explained a lot. His mind reeled at the implications—if this was real, he was practically invincible in any game of luck.

Still, power like this came with a price. Severe penalties. The system wasn’t playing around.

He needed a plan.

First, he needed money. Real money.

Klaus stepped out of the café, pulling his hoodie tighter as the neon lights of the city reflected off the wet pavement. The closest lottery center was five blocks away. Minimum entry? Thirty dollars.

He had zero.

He tried asking around, but every attempt was met with indifference or outright hostility. His ragged appearance didn’t help.

Then, he met Rex.

A man built like a concrete slab with a face that had seen one too many bar fights. Klaus could tell right away—Rex was desperate, angry at the world, and looking for any edge he could get.

“Need some quick cash, huh?” Rex drawled, eyeing Klaus with amusement.

Klaus shrugged. “You could say that.”

Rex smirked, already seeing an opportunity. “I’ll front you a hundred bucks. If you win, you owe me a grand. If you lose, you owe me two.”

Klaus knew a predator when he saw one. The deal was ridiculous—pure highway robbery.

But… he wasn’t going to lose.

He let a slow smile spread across his lips. “Deal.”

Rex grinned, thinking he had another sucker.

The lottery office was quiet, save for the whir of a fan overhead. Klaus stepped up to the counter, feeling an odd tingle at his fingertips as he selected his numbers.

The moment he pressed the final digit, something shifted. A strange, weightless sensation washed over him—like the universe itself was nudging fate into place.

The numbers flashed.

The crowd gasped.

He won.

As Klaus gathered his winnings, a heavy bag of cash now strapped to his shoulder, the agent behind the counter leaned in with a smirk.

“Aren’t you tempted to try again?” she teased. “You might win even more.”

Klaus met her gaze, his expression unreadable. “No. I just want to make sure all the money is accounted for.”

Across the room, Rex stood frozen, his mind struggling to process what had just happened. He had assumed Klaus was an idiot, just another desperate stray.

Now? Now, he was watching a man walk away with his money.

Rex’s fists clenched. His stomach twisted with something dark and ugly.

He had struggled for everything in his life. Fought, clawed, and bled. And this nobody just waltzed in and took it all with a goddamn lucky number?

His jaw tightened.

No. That money was his.

And he was going to take it back.

Klaus felt it immediately—the shift in the air, the prickle at the back of his neck. Rex was following him.

He didn't need the system to know what was coming next.

Instead of running, he walked—slow, deliberate—leading Rex exactly where he wanted. A narrow alley, barely lit by a flickering streetlamp.

Rex took the bait.

As soon as they were alone, he lunged, his massive fists swinging with the kind of force that could break ribs.

But to Klaus, everything slowed.

The sound of the city dulled. He could see the precise way Rex’s muscles coiled, the way his breath hitched before impact.

Time stretched.

And Klaus moved.

He sidestepped with effortless grace, watching as Rex’s own momentum betrayed him. The brute stumbled forward, smashing into the brick wall with a sickening crack.

Before Rex could recover, Klaus slipped a hand into his pocket, retrieving the thousand dollars he had just handed over.

Then, with a wink and a smirk, he vanished into the night.

Rex stood there, seething. He checked his pockets.

Gone.

His stomach twisted with rage, humiliation burning in his chest. He had been played.

Slamming a fist into the wall, he let out a furious growl. The impact sent a dull ache up his arm, but he barely felt it over the sheer hatred boiling in his veins.

He swore, right then and there—he would find Klaus again.

And next time, he wouldn’t be so careless. He would never forget this.