Dice had quickly become the main form of gambling on the streets of Meteor City. The rules were simple and easy to grasp, and dice could be crafted from nearly anything—a perfect fit for the city's chaotic, resourceful environment.
Wherever there's gambling, there's someone trying to profit from it. Some people saw opportunities in this and began employing their tricks and skills to win.
Of course, cheating in Meteor City was a surefire way to a quick demise. Among the corpses Ronnel had come across, a few had "contributed" their knowledge about dice games. Ronnel had pieced together a skillset from them.
Three basic skills could be combined into one intermediate skill, five intermediate skills into one advanced level, ten advanced skills into one perfect level.
Ronnel's current Dice Play skill had reached the advanced level.
For him, simply listening and recognizing the numbers was second nature.
As the game progressed, the croupier's expression grew darker, beads of sweat running down his face. Meanwhile, a wealthy man, with confidence brimming from his streak of wins, bet all his chips on a single roll.
Five rounds in, Ronnel had won each time. The rich man's growing fortune caught the attention of the other gamblers, who began to follow his lead. The result: all the gamblers were winning, and the casino was losing miserably.
Soon, the crowd around the table grew even larger as word of the situation spread.
Just as the croupier started contemplating drastic measures, the wealthy man was suddenly yanked from his seat like a helpless bird caught in a snare.
"The five rounds are up. It's my turn to act."
Ronnel smiled, but to the rich man, his voice carried a chilling indifference. The man's smug expression faltered, the thrill of winning instantly replaced with the cold realization of what was happening.
The rich man's bodyguards, sensing trouble, began to step forward, but he waved them off, trembling as he locked eyes with Ronnel. He stood and left, much to the croupier's relief and the gamblers' disappointment.
As a regular at this establishment, the rich man wasted no time. He quickly cashed in his chips and left the casino. Ronnel and Shizuku followed at a steady pace, unfazed by the growing number of bodyguards surrounding them.
When a car—almost identical to the luxury vehicles of Ronnel's previous life—pulled up, the rich man gestured for them to join him inside, entering first.
Ronnel and Shizuku settled into the plush seats, and the man offered them two bottles of fruit wine from a well-stocked cooler in the back.
"Thanks for your help back there," the rich man began.
"May I ask your name? And what do you want in return?"
"I'm Ronnel. This is Shizuku. We need you to get us both IDs."
"IDs?"
The man paused, eyeing their tattered clothes, his thoughts quickly jumping to the slums of Meteor City and the nearby city of Gumandun.
The warmth in his voice faded, and a flash of distaste crossed his face.
"IDs..." His tone grew colder, dragging out the words.
"That's not an easy task. You see, Gumandun is filled with officials, and getting an ID requires going through them. It's quite a hassle."
"Is that so?" Ronnel's smile remained, but his eyes grew colder.
"You agreed to our deal—help me win, and you'd help us get the IDs."
The rich man hesitated, feeling the pressure. "Yes, but... this isn't a simple matter. However, since I made a promise, I'll keep it. But…"
"But what?"
"It'll take time. Three—no, five days. As long as you gamble with me for another five days, I'll make sure you get the IDs."
The man's greedy grin spread across his face, making no attempt to hide his intentions.
The car left the bustling city behind and entered a more remote area. Surrounded by his well-paid bodyguards, the man believed he had the upper hand. After all, these two were just some nobodies from Meteor City, probably good at gambling but lacking any real power.
Besides, he thought to himself, Meteor City's residents might be loyal to each other, but he wasn't worried. After all, the case from years ago when one homeless man from Meteor City was wrongfully imprisoned? Sure, they got their revenge, but that was an exception. This boy? He was just another gambler.
Five days? Ronnel's lips curled into a smirk. Five days, and then another five days—was this man serious?
"Well?" the rich man continued, "What do you say? It's a fair—"
BANG!
Before he could finish his sentence, a deafening sound cut through the air.
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