Fortunately, this time, the dealer's hands obeyed. There was no strange delay, no invisible resistance.
Clack.
The dice cup hit the table, and a soft screeching sound followed—
"Waaah…"
Then—
The three dice seemed to dissolve like pyramids made of sand, scattering in all directions the instant the cup was lifted.
Three dice.
Eighteen sides.
Sixty-three points!
They were perfectly laid out on the green felt, spread neatly into a flawless hexagonal pattern—precise as if drawn by ruler and compass.
The greasy dealer staggered backward, collapsing into his chair.
He had spent his life at the gambling table, but never, never had he seen anything like this.
Even the legendary "gods of gambling" of the world were as naïve as kindergartners before this scene.
For a full breath, the casino went utterly silent.
Then—
Buzz…
The hall exploded in shouts.
"What—how—?!"
"The dice… split?!"
"This is unreal!"
But Lock closed his eyes slightly, unmoved by the chaos.
Just now, he had felt it clearly—the force of luck itself dragging the dealer's hand for three seconds.
And within those three seconds, that invisible power had completed a series of operations even Lock, with all his divine control, could not replicate.
Not only had the dice been sliced apart perfectly, but stacked and rotated into an intricate geometric pattern. The entire structure had held together through vibration and impact, surviving the fall and revealing itself in a pristine design once the cup was opened.
Too many actions. Too complex.
The power of luck could no longer remain hidden—it moved like a shining blade, cutting through space and probability again and again, dozens of times in just three seconds.
Each cut was a demonstration.
Each motion was an instruction.
If the Power of Luck were a living being—an elf, perhaps—it would have been drenched in sweat, muttering curses at Lock:
"You're the hardest damn mortal I've ever had to help!"
Compared to Domino's casual "autopilot" luck, what happened here was the difference between earth and heaven.
But because the operation was so complex and so prolonged, Lock had seen it all. He had watched, understood, and learned.
An epiphany struck him like lightning.
He sank into comprehension.
The opportunity was fragile—fleeting—and could not be interrupted.
Around him, gamblers screamed and crowded closer, shouting:
"God of Gamblers!"
"Who is he?!"
"Please sign my chip!"
But before anyone could approach, Natasha stepped in front, her expression sharp.
She was closest to Lock, and she had trained in divine energy herself. She knew what this was—a moment of awakening. A comprehension of the power of fate.
It could not be disturbed.
The others—Fury, Captain America, General Ross, Maria Hill, Falcon, Kate, and Daisy—realized it at once. They moved quickly, forming a ring around Lock.
They didn't know the details, but they remembered what Lock had said before entering the casino:
"Once I succeed, my power will rise to a new level."
At such a critical moment, no one could risk disturbance.
Meanwhile, the crowd beyond the ring was pressed apart again as three new figures entered the hall.
An old man led them—clearly Western by face, yet dressed in a traditional Tang-style suit. Behind him walked two young men in garish clothes, hair dyed in bright colors, confidence radiating from their steps.
The old man looked at the gathered Avengers blocking his path, then at the silent figure in the center. He smiled politely.
"Don't be so tense, everyone," he said, voice smooth. "We're a legitimate establishment. Civilized people. No one here intends harm. I only wish to see who this… 'God of Gamblers' might be."
Natasha didn't buy it. Neither did Fury nor Hill.
People who owned casinos didn't stay in business by being saints. When profit was threatened, they became more ruthless than gangsters.
And now, Lock was sitting in silent enlightenment—grasping the very mechanism of destiny. If anyone interrupted him, even slightly, the loss could be immeasurable.
So they said nothing.
The old man frowned when no one replied. His two companions—clearly enforcers—snorted and stepped forward.
Black and green auras flickered around their bodies, pressing outward, trying to shove Natasha and Daisy aside.
But in the same instant, gold energy flared from the two women.
Boom—!
A shockwave spread, and the enforcers were blasted backward, staggering several steps before regaining balance.
Natasha and Daisy had held back—they didn't dare unleash their full strength. Even the faintest ripple might disturb Lock's focus.
The old man's pupils shrank. "Superhumans… so it's true."
Natasha's voice was ice. "If you interfere again, I'll take this casino apart—brick by brick."
The old man hesitated, then lifted a hand, stopping his subordinates.
He turned to the greasy dealer and the manager, muttering, "Clear the area."
"Yes, Mr. Liu," they answered nervously.
Within minutes, a team of armed security poured in, ushering the spectators back.
But no one truly left. They lingered at the edges, unwilling to miss the spectacle.
If this turned into a fight, it would be history in the making.
The casino's motto seemed to hang heavy in the air:
"Life and death are fate. Fortune rests in heaven."
Soon, the vast marble hall emptied. Only Fury's team and the old man's group remained.
The old man adjusted his sleeves, studying the silent Lock. "So… you've won billions from my casino," he said coldly. "And now you don't even have the courtesy to speak?"
Natasha crossed her arms. "He's in deep thought. Once he's finished, he'll answer you."
The old man's lip curled. "Hmph. Sounds like fear to me. You think you can win twenty billion dollars and walk away? I don't think it'll be that easy."
Captain America stepped forward. "So your casino doesn't let people win money now?"
A murmur spread among the distant gamblers.
He had a point. If the house refused to pay winnings, what gambler would ever return?
The old man sneered. "If you win by luck, we pay without question. But you used superhuman power—you broke the rules of ordinary men. That is a different matter."
"Oh…"
The crowd suddenly understood.
So that was it. The mysterious man wasn't just lucky—he was enhanced.
A mutant, a metahuman, something in between.
That explained everything.
At that moment, Lock's voice finally broke the silence.
"What a coincidence," he said softly. "I really did win by luck."
He had witnessed dozens of demonstrations of the Power of Luck in those three seconds. How could he not seize that chance?
Now, as the glow around him faded, his understanding deepened.
"It's just a pity," he added lightly, "that I spent dozens of points of fortune to earn twenty billion dollars. Hardly worth it."
He frowned slightly. For the first time, he sensed it—each time he used the Power of Luck consciously, his reservoir of fortune diminished.
Where there had once been over a thousand points, now only nine hundred remained.
A few dozen points lost—but enough to equal an ordinary human's lifetime of good fortune.
It was a sobering thought.
For normal people, trading a lifetime of luck for a jackpot wasn't a bargain—it was a curse.
Lock thought of the countless stories of lottery winners who lost everything within years—wealth, family, sanity.
From a psychological view, they couldn't handle success.
From a moral one, their virtue couldn't carry their fortune.
From Lock's new understanding, it was simply the price of luck itself.
He sighed inwardly. He didn't lack money. But the cost—the dozens of luck points he had spent—felt painful. He didn't know when he would ever recover them.
Around him, no one understood his words.
Some gamblers muttered bitterly,
"This guy… pretending again."
"Twenty billion and he's complaining?"
"If it were me, I'd trade my whole life's luck for that!"
The old man in the Tang suit sneered. "Such arrogance. Do you dare gamble with us again?"
---
A/N: Advanced Chapters Have Been Uploaded On My Patreon
Support: patreon.com/Narrator_San