The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock

CHAPTER 7

“I don’t recall asking for your input.” Her voice was sharp, her gaze sharper—cutting through the air like a finely honed blade. “Keep quiet unless I address you.”

Silence.

The guards stiffened, exchanging uneasy glances. Klaus, still bound in cold steel, merely watched her, wary but intrigued.

She turned to him fully now, head tilted slightly, as if assessing a piece of art only she could understand. “What’s your name?”

“Klaus.”

A ghost of a smirk played on her lips. “Well, Klaus… how about we have a little chat inside? On me.”

The guards paled. “Ma’am, this man—”

“—is my friend.” She interrupted smoothly, every syllable wrapped in quiet authority. “And unless you’d like to find employment elsewhere, I suggest you uncuff him.”

Hesitation. A breath held too long. Then, the reluctant click of metal yielding to her command.

“Please, sir, it was a mistake,” one guard implored, knowing the Italian man was a well-known and affluent friend of the manager, making his threat credible.

“I apologize; I didn’t realize he was a customer here to gamble. I misjudged him based on his appearance and behavior,” the guard admitted, looking at them with remorseful eyes.

Klaus rubbed his wrists, casting her a glance laced with curiosity. “Why are you helping me?”

Her smile was slow, deliberate. Knowing. “Because I like interesting people, Klaus.”

Richard and Isabella called for the manager. And when he arrived, the guard, Marcus, was already sweating.

The moment Klaus explained his story, the manager’s decision was swift.

“Marcus, you’re dismissed.”

The guard’s breath hitched, but there was no room for protest.

Turning back to Klaus, the manager pulled a crisp check from his pocket. “A small apology for the trouble.” The number scrawled across it read $1,000.

Klaus studied the paper, then handed it back with a polite but firm shake of his head. “Keep it. Consider it payment for a good story.”

The manager looked startled but impressed. Isabella, watching closely, found herself intrigued.

She turned toward the grand entrance of the casino, pausing just long enough to glance back at him.

“Coming?”

Klaus didn’t need to be asked twice.

---

Inside, the atmosphere buzzed with energy. The rhythmic clatter of chips, the hum of conversation, the occasional triumphant cheer—it all swirled together in a symphony of risk and reward.

A woman—Isabella—spoke then. She moved like she belonged here, like the casino itself bent to her presence. She introduced herself with ease, name-dropping her husband, Richard, a legend among high-stakes gamblers and a well known tech expert.

The weight of that name changed everything.

---

The reels spun.

Symbols blurred together, flashing gold, silver, and neon brilliance. The ding ding ding of jackpots filled the air, each win cascading into another, until the once small pile of chips before Klaus had grown into a monument to luck itself.

Twenty thousand dollars.

It wasn’t just money. It was momentum. A force thrumming beneath his skin, as if the very concept of luck had chosen to breathe life into him.

Then—

A shimmer.

A translucent blue notification appeared before his eyes.

> [Congratulations! Gambler's Luck has leveled up to Level 1!]

Klaus inhaled sharply. His pulse thundered in his ears as a second message materialized:

> [New Feature: Luck Infusion]

He tapped the text. It expanded, revealing the details in glowing script:

> Luck can now be harnessed to improve and sway any situation. Its effectiveness is tied to the amount of luck infused. However, using it for anything outside of gambling will reduce the luck stat.

The luck stat can be boosted the more the user engages in gaming.

Klaus’s grin was slow, deliberate. He felt it now—power humming beneath the surface, waiting to be tested.

And across the room, someone else was losing.

---

Richard’s frustration was a living, breathing thing.

Isabella could see it in the way his fingers tapped restlessly against the felt of the blackjack table. The way his jaw clenched tighter with every unfavorable card.

“This is ridiculous,” Richard muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “I can’t catch a break.”

Isabella placed a hand on his arm, but he barely noticed. Across from them, the dealer moved with the smooth precision of someone used to stripping fortunes from hopeful men.

And then—Klaus.

He arrived with a presence too large for his frame, an air of quiet confidence curling around him like cigar smoke.

“Having a bit of trouble?” he asked, voice playful yet impossibly steady.

Isabella narrowed her eyes. Richard, though? He recognized something in the way Klaus stood. That strange magnetism.

“You could say that,” Richard admitted. “We’re down… quite a bit.”

Klaus’s smirk deepened. “I might be able to help.”

Isabella hesitated. “I don’t know… that seems risky.”

But Richard? He was already sold.

“He just seems… lucky.” His voice held a dangerous hope. “Let him try.”

---

Klaus slid into the seat like he belonged there.

He exhaled, rolling his shoulders, feeling the pulse of Luck Infusion coil beneath his skin. He could see the paths the cards could take. The probabilities were no longer just numbers—they were choices.

“I’ll take over,” he said smoothly. “I’m feeling lucky.”

The dealer hesitated, then nodded. The game was already in motion.

Richard leaned in, voice a whisper. "Take my last $100,000… please, try."

A beat of silence. The tension in the air was palpable, Klaus still smiled.