The Gambler Marvel Novels & Stories

“I was ranked #60. My mafia name is Gambler. Anything imbued with my luck becomes a weapon. I use mostly coins and playing cards.” The Gambler was a very sick looking teen who looked like he sold his soul instead of his luck for power. He would be clumsier than usual on some days, and Zen knew the reason behind it now. Yesterday, Zen caught him loitering outside the kitchen. The Gambler left eventually without saying anything, but his actions were highly suspicious. Yet, who would have anticipated their meeting in such an alliance?

"Sure, you've given me some. But baby, what good is that tiny bit of cash in a city like this? I lost it all ages ago..." I could literally hear her hypocritical heartbeat accelerating as she lied to my face. "When exactly are you planning to stop gambling?!" I glared at her, my body trembling slightly from a toxic mix of sheer fury and extreme physical weakness. My wolf whimpered in pure despair, while my heart felt nothing but a numb, bottomless well of disgust. "Just until I make a comeback! The second I draw a good hand and win back everything I've lost, I swear to the Moon Goddess, I'll quit for good!" The distinct, crazed greed of a degenerate gambler flashed wildly in her eyes.

I sat down and watched them play, — gambling. Contrary to what I expected, it was interesting and a very intense game. That kind of game gives you goosebumps accompanied by a stroke or heart attack. It was so thrilling and there was no way I was going to enjoy this while standing up. I didn't know much about the game but it was like Gladimir was making money.

Marco begged, trying to strain against his ropes, his eyes fixed on me, pleading. My gaze flickered to my men, then back to the two pathetic figures. “Teach them a lesson,” I commanded, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. “Make sure they understand the true cost of their ‘gambling debts’.” I simply watched them, my expression unreadable. Their pleas were pathetic, predictable. Gambling debts. The oldest excuse in the book. As if that absolved them of their monumental transgression. Betrayal. In my world, there was only one currency for that.

"So, would you mind explaing how this gamble works and why does it have to be played in a longer period of time?" He coughed like how a formal businessman coughs when starting a conversation. My first impression to him was like a type of guy who would never talk to anyone. As if Mezakiel's the person who wouldn't bother himself on talking to unnecesarry people. His deadly gazes were killing people's thoughts off as well! "We're now participating a kind of stake where the both of us were the gamblers who conspired to win." He raised his index finger. "But we won't just be gamblers by name, we need to take risk and efforts to succeed."

That zero is yours, Evelyn - not mine! I wrenched free of her grip. "You say that as though seven points are something to be proud of." She completely lost control, grabbed the nearest object, and hurled it at me. "You bitch! Julian won't even speak to me because of you! "He's mine! You'll never take him away from me!" I shoved her to the floor and looked down at her. "Are you still dreaming? Draper Holdings stands behind me. "The Kaplans' and Prescotts' pathetic scraps aren't worth my attention."

"Oh my god, I've never seen a match at this level end in under ten minutes. They're definitely the dark horse of this tournament!" "Wait, isn't that LeoWinter's ID? I think I've seen someone streaming with a very similar playstyle before." "Yes, yes! That streamer with the really edgy name… I think it was Checkmate Zero!" Madison suddenly turned her head. "Did you say Checkmate Zero?" Her match slot was scheduled relatively late, and her coordination with Bruce had been mediocre at best over the past six months. She had originally entered this competition without much expectation of winning. But only she knew the truth. She had abandoned everything just to come here and see the streamer she

A cold thought slid through me: If I lost my name, would the game still know what to call me? “No,” the older woman whispered. “No, no, no—” “This is what I mean,” Corvin said, his voice low and tight. “Every win here has teeth. If you gamble, assume you’re paying with something you don’t understand until it’s gone.” The boy—*the* boy, because that was all he had now—shook his head in little jerks, as if that would dislodge the missing thing. “I can’t— I had a—”

However, he’d throw me into his meat- grinder wars before I could blink, If my father knew I could fight. Don Malrec Thornvale did n’t indeed look at us. His eyes were bloodshot, projected on the cards in his pulsing hands. contrary him sat Garron Blackmere. Garron was not a bettor ; he was a scavenger. He smelled the spoilage on our family and came to peel the skin back. " I’m all in," Malrec croaked. He did not slide chips. He slid a single, essay- dampened diploma across the green felt. " What the f**k is that?" Garron asked, his voice a low grate.

Marshall was also present. “Welcome to the Black Shadow Pack, Gammas,” Austin said in a deep, baritone voice with an air of confidence in his tone as he shook hands with the two. He was back to business, and I was still floating in the air. “This is my female, Lady Alexandria.” His hand went to my back as he glanced at me. “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Alexandria,” Marlon said. “My name is Marlon.” I smiled at them and extended my hand. “Nice to meet you. You can call me Lexi.”