Scottsburg. 10:10 pm.
Old fire station No. 12
The announcer raised a long finger and pointed across the table.
"PLAYER NUMBER SEVEN — MBALI 'THE EXECUTIONER' LEGATO!"
The crowd exploded even louder.
"EXECUTIONER!!"
"NAH SHE FINNA END SOMEONE!"
"THIS THE ONE Y'ALL SHOULD FEAR!"
Mbali stepped forward — tall, heavy-set, eyes cold as obsidian. Tattoos crawling up her neck. A stitched scar running across her brow like a lightning bolt.
She cracked her knuckles.
Each one sounded like a bone snapping in a quiet morgue.
Antonio watched her closely. Not a gambler. No — she moved like someone who was here for blood, not money.
Kojo leaned in.
"Be careful of her, Toni. She ain't in it for the pot. She in it for the fun."
Mbali grabbed the dice, kissed her nail, and said "Hope y'all prayed."
CLACK. CLACK. CLACK.
The dice spun with violent force — bounced off the table — hit the edge — rolled back — then—
11.
The reaction was instantaneous.
Two spectators screamed.
One player stood up and backed away.
The announcer laughed so hard he bent backward.
"ELEVEN! THE DEATH TIER!"
The whole room trembled with noise.
Antonio felt his stomach twist. He leaned slightly toward Kojo.
"What's 'Death Tier'?" he asked.
Kojo didn't smile this time.
"That's when the game stops being about money." he responded.
The announcer banged on the table.
"AS PER DEATH TIER — PENALTY IS MANDATORY. PLAYER CANNOT CHOOSE BOUNTY."
Mbali rolled her neck like she was warming up for a workout.
"Bring it." She stated.
Two enforcers dragged out the Death Box — a steel case with scorch marks, blood stains, and a warning label written in marker…
DON'T LOOK INSIDE UNLESS YOU WANT TO PUKE.
They unlocked it. Smoke drifted out.
A smell hit the air — chemical, iron-heavy, rotting.
Antonio took a half step back. Kojo didn't, he watched Antonio instead. Testing him again.
The announcer shoved his hand into the box dramatically… and pulled out a chain whip with hooks on it.
Half the crowd screamed in delight. Half screamed in horror.
"ALRIGHT LADIES AND GENTS — MBALI MUST TAKE THREE STRIKES ACROSS THE BACK."
Mbali just turned around, grabbed on steel rail, and hunched her shoulders.
No fear. No hesitation.
Antonio's eyes widened — Mbali wasn't being punished. She was enjoying it. She wanted this.
The announcer handed the whip to one of Kojo's men — a tall guy named Dalton with dead eyes.
Dalton lifted the whip…
THWACK!
Hooks tore across her back. Blood splattered the floor as the crowd roared.
THWACK!
More blood. Mbali grinned. Antonio blinked concern drenched on his face. She was smiling.
Kojo whispered "Now you see why I brought you here? These people live by rules you need to understand if you're serious about stepping into my world."
Antonio didn't answer.
THWACK!
The third strike ripped her skin open.
Mbali exhaled sharply — almost satisfied — then turned back around like nothing happened.
The announcer raised his megaphone.
"MBALI SURVIVES! PENALTY COMPLETE! MOVE TO THE NEXT PLAYER!"
Mbali wiped the blood off her shoulders, smirked, as she locked eyes with Antonio briefly.
Antonio felt the pressure now. The pot was growing. The stakes were rising.
The announcer's voice cracked over the megaphone, trembling with excitement:
"PLAYER NUMBER THREE, THE ONE Y'ALL BEEN WAITING' FOR— THE MOST DANGEROUS MAN ON THIS TABLE—BARKUS… THE BULL!"
The basement DETONATED. Chants exploded instantly.
"BULL! BULL! BULL! BULL!"
A massive figure stood from the far end of the table. Six foot six. Neck like a tree trunk. Shoulders wide enough to block a doorway. His arms thick, scarred, tattooed with prison ink that looked carved instead of drawn.
He cracked his knuckles once — the sound echoed like a gunshot.
Kojo whispered under his breath
"Careful. Barkus kills people without meaning to… and sometimes with meaning."
Antonio swallowed hard.
Barkus stepped to the dice table, he didn't speak. Didn't smile. Didn't blink.
He just slammed his massive hand on the table—
BOOM.
The dice jumped into the air from the impact.
The entire table trembled. Some spectators stumbled backward. One guy dropped his beer.
The announcer staggered but kept his composure.
"A-ALRIGHT LET THE BULL PLAY THEN!"
Barkus scooped up the dice with fingers the size of bricks. He growled.
And rolled.
CLACK. CLACK. CLACK.
The dice hit the wood, bounced, rolled, slowed— Then stopped.
DOUBLE SIXES.
12.
The crowd LOST ITS MIND.
A full riot of screams, stomps, and hysteria.
"TWELVE!"
"NAH WE DEAD!"
"THE BULL DONE SUMMONED SATAN!"
Someone actually cried. Someone else started praying. As some dude fainted again.
The announcer raised both arms like a prophet.
"TWELVE!! THE DOOM TIER!"
Even Kojo tensed up. Antonio's pulse hammered.
"What's Doom Tier?" he asked quietly.
Kojo didn't look at him this time.
"Something nobody wants to survive…
but the pot loves."
The announcer slammed his fist on the table.
"ALRIGHT PEOPLE… AS PER DOOM TIER RULES MULTIPLIER IS SET TO TIMES ONE TWENTY. ALL PENALTIES BECOME FATALITY-LEVEL. AND THE POT—"
He pointed at the giant metal counter on the wall.
The numbers BEGAN SPINNING.
$12,000,000…$13,200,000…$16,900,000… $18,400,000… $20,700,000…
Spectators shrieked as it kept climbing.
Then it stopped at— $25,000,000.
Twenty-five million Bucks. The entire basement shook with insanity. People jumped on chairs, on tables, on each other.
Fights broke out from excitement.
A guy got tossed across the room and landed in a trash bin. Women screamed. Men roared. The lights flickered like they were trying to escape the ceiling.
Antonio's scalp prickled.
This wasn't a tournament anymore. This was a war.
Kojo slowly grinned.
"There it is." he murmured.
Antonio turned to him.
"There what is?" he asked curiously.
Kojo finally looked him dead in the eyes.
"Your real invitation." he added.
Antonio froze. "What?" he said.
"You think I brought you here just to watch dice?" Kojo asked softly. "Nah, Toni. This is your proving ground. The pot's big enough. The danger's real enough. Now we see if you got the spine for the world you wanna enter."
Antonio's heartbeat dropped into a cold void. Kojo wasn't testing his luck. He was testing his nature.
The announcer finally regained control.
"ALRIGHT— BARKUS MUST COMPLETE THE DOOM PENALTY… WHICH IS—"
He reached into the Death Box again. Everyone held their breath, then he pulled out…
A rusted spiked gauntlet with dried blood caked between the metal teeth.
The entire crowd leaned forward as one.
"THE BULL MUST CRUSH A RANDOM PLAYER'S HAND."
Instant silence. Even the lights seemed to dim, Antonio's stomach flipped. Kojo didn't blink.
The announcer pointed the gauntlet at the players.
"SELECTION… BEGINS."
A spotlight swung from face to face around the table.
Marlow froze. Tango held his breath. Mbali cracked her knuckles again like she wanted it. Kojo's three men stared straight ahead.
Then the spotlight stopped— ON ANTONIO.
The air was sucked out of the basement.
Antonio's muscles locked. His heartbeat spiked.
Kojo's jaw twitched — not in fear, but in anticipation.
Barkus stared at Antonio's hand… the gauntlet tightening on his fist.
Everyone leaned forward, waiting for chaos— and right before Barkus could move…
The announcer raised his hand.
"WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. HOLD IT— NEW RULE JUST DROPPED."
The crowd groaned. Antonio exhaled shakily. Kojo chuckled darkly.
The announcer continued.
"FOR DOOM TIER THE TARGET MAY CHOOSE TRIAL OR SACRIFICE. SO, ANTONIO— WHAT'S IT GONNA BE?"
The spotlight burned hot on Antonio.
Barkus's massive hand hovered, the spiked gauntlet glinting under the flickering lights.
The crowd leaned forward, breathless.
Antonio swallowed, feeling every eye boring into him.
He clenched his fists.
He took a slow, deliberate breath.
"I'll choose… Trial." he said, his voice low but unwavering.
The announcer's grin widened, crooked and gleeful.
"TRIAL IT IS!" he bellowed, lifting his megaphone like a weapon.
"THE PLAYER CHOOSING TRIAL MUST SURVIVE THE BULL'S WRATH AND COMPLETE THE CHALLENGE… OR THE HOUSE CLAIMS EVERYTHING YOU'VE GOT!"
Barkus's eyes narrowed.
He leaned closer to Antonio. The spiked gauntlet hovered, then slammed down on the table instead of Antonio's hand, clanging violently, sparks flying.
The impact rattled everyone in the basement.
The crowd erupted—cheers, screams, and laughter all collided into a frenzy.
Antonio's pulse raced as Kojo leaned in close.
"Remember." he whispered, "this is more than the dice. This is survival. One wrong move, and you're the one bleeding." he added.
Barkus flexed, spinning around, then stomped toward the center of the table.
The gauntlet whistled through the air as he swung it, narrowly missing a stack of chips—but smashing a spectator's drink, sending bourbon and blood flying.
The announcer slapped the table again, silencing the madness temporarily.
"TRIAL BEGINS!" He gestured to the dice.
"ROLL. SURVIVE. WIN. OR DIE."
Antonio picked up the dice, feeling the weight of every eye, every expectation.
The crowd leaned in closer, some screaming encouragement, others just hungry for chaos.
He tossed the dice.
CLACK. CLACK. CLACK.
The dice hit the table… bounced once… then landed.
7.
The announcer's voice boomed.
"SEVEN! HIGH RISK! BULL STRIKES IMMINENT. PLAYER MUST WITHSTAND THREE ASSAULTS BEFORE TURN ENDS!"
Barkus roared, a sound like a freight train, and swung the gauntlet down onto the table next to Antonio's hand—metal spikes digging into wood, splintering the edge.
The first blow was violent enough to send Antonio staggering back, narrowly avoiding the point of the spikes.
The crowd shrieked, some throwing chips and bills into the air like confetti.
Screams echoed off the walls.
Barkus came again. Second strike.
This time, Antonio ducked low, feeling a sharp scrape along his shoulder.
Pain shot through him, but he didn't fall.
The crowd roared louder. Some cheered him on. Some were just thrilled by the blood, the chaos.
The third strike… came with terrifying precision. Barkus swung, full force.
Antonio rolled, barely avoiding it.
The gauntlet slammed into the table edge beside him, sending a shower of splinters flying.
Antonio's chest heaved.
His hands were shaking.
But he was alive.
The announcer's voice boomed above the chaos.
"SURVIVED! TRIAL COMPLETE! PLAYER STAYS! POT INCREASES!"
The pot counter shot up like wildfire.
$25,000,000… $31,000,000
The crowd erupted again, deafening this time.
Antonio glanced toward Kojo, who was smirking like a man watching a boy step into a lion's den… and survive.
Antonio felt it now—the truth he had sensed earlier.
Kojo didn't bring him here to play dice. He brought him here to forge him, to test whether he had the nerve, the control, and the instinct to survive in a world where only the strong, the clever, and the ruthless endure.
The dice weren't just gambling. The penalties weren't just punishments. This was a crucible. And Antonio had just survived the inferno.
The announcer stepped onto the center platform, raising his megaphone high.
His shadow stretched across the basement like a blade.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN… CREATURES AND CRIMINALS… THE HOUSE DECLARES AN ELIMINATION ROUND!"
The crowd exploded—chairs slammed, bottles shattered, people stomped and howled like animals.
Above them, the flickering bulbs buzzed violently.
Antonio felt the energy shift.
The announcer continued…
"In this round, the three lowest performers… will be removed from the table."
He paused, his mouth widening.
"Two simply lose the game…"
He lifted a finger.
"But the third… dies."
A hush fell.
Then the crowd erupted into delighted screams.
Kojo leaned in toward Antonio, half-smiling.
"Good luck, amigo. This is where the table cleans itself."
One by one, the remaining players stepped forward. The pot had climbed past $40,000,000. The pressure was choking.
Tango picked up the dice— Tango's hand trembled as he let the dice fall.
CLACK—ROLL—STOP.
4.
The announcer chuckled darkly.
"LOW ROLL. Tango sits at the bottom."
Tango cursed under his breath as the crowd booed.
Next Mbali grabbed the dice… Then she dropped it.
CLACK—CLACK—CLACK—STOP.
She didn't flinch.
She didn't blink.
She rolled.
11.
The crowd roared her name.
She smirked at Antonio
—a warning, a promise.
Then Barkus scooped up the dice… And flung it across the table.
CLACK—CLACK—ROLL…
Still dripping sweat, still snarling.
ROLL—STOP.
5.
A growl of frustration ripped from his chest.
He slammed his fist on the table.
He was dangerously close to elimination.
Next was Marlow, he picked up the dice and violently shook it in his hand…
Then he slammed it on the table.
CLACK—ROLL—CLACK…STOP.
His eyes widened with fear as his dice stopped in the middle of the table with the spotlight shining upon it.
2.
Marlow froze… because he knew what was going to happen.
The announcer's megaphone crackled.
"OH? HOW UNLUCKY… THE LOWEST ROLL POSSIBLE HAS MADE IT'S RETURN—BUT AT THE WRONG MOMENT."
The crowd lost it… Some folks were walking out, and some erupted with joy, fear and excitement.
Now Antonio's turn. The basement fell silent. Every face turned to him. Even the music seemed to fade.
Antonio rolled.
CLACK.
The dice spun… bounced once… twice…
10.
The crowd erupted. Kojo nodded once, satisfied.
The announcer called out the standings.
"In first place Mbali with Eleven. Second…Antonio with Ten. Third Barkus with Five— Fourth Tango with a lucky Four… And in last place—Marlow scoring the lowest with two."
"Bottom three." he declared, "prepare yourselves."
A metal gate slid open behind the table—cold, mechanical, rusted. Guards emerged, dragging out a hooded figure carrying a long, polished machete.
The crowd went feral.
Marlow started shaking.
"No—no—no man, I rolled low but Tango—he—"
Tango snarled.
"Shut up, rat."
The announcer raised a hand.
"The house has chosen…"
The lights flickered. A drum beat began—deep, hollow, ritualistic.
"ONE."
Marlow fell to his knees.
"TWO."
Barkus spat on the floor, ready to fight.
"THREE!"
The spotlight hit—
Marlow. He screamed.
"No! No no no—please—PLEASE—"
The guard stepped forward smooth, unhurried—and swung.
SHINK—THUD.
The head of Marlow rolled out of the Spotlight… And the guard caught it with his foot.
The basement exploded in cheers.
Blood sprayed across the floor, warm and bright, pooling around the table legs.
Spectators jumped and screamed, throwing money into the air.
Mbali didn't even blink, Barkus laughed, Kojo smirked.
Antonio… stood still his expression unreadable and his was Stomach tight. He didn't like this thrill. He didn't like how easily the others enjoyed it.
But he also didn't flinch… and Kojo noticed.
The announcer raised his megaphone again.
"WE ARE DOWN TO OUR FINALISTS! MBALI 'THE EXECUTIONER' LEGATO… AND ANTONIO GONZALEZ!"
The crowd BOOMED with energy.
Lights swirled as the Guards dragged away Tango's corpse.
Fresh chips were placed on the table.
The pot climbed again.
$40,000,000… $55,000,000… $60,500,000
The announcer shouted.
"FINAL ROUND. ONE ROLL EACH. THE WINNER TAKES IT ALL… THE LOSER FACES THEIR FATE."
Antonio looked across the table at Mbali—cold, focused, deadly.
The dice were placed between them.
Sweat. Silence. Breathless tension.
"FINALISTS… STEP UP." the announcer roared.
The lights flickered harder now — like the building itself knew the game was reaching its breaking point. Every bulb buzzed and hissed, shadows stretching long across the cold basement. Blood already streaked parts of the concrete floor. Chips piled high on the table. Sweat dripped. People whispered, prayed, begged quietly.
Only two players remained.
Kojo watched from the edge of the pit, he hadn't blinked since the last elimination.
The announcer raised both hands.
"FINAL TWO. FINAL ROLLS. NO MERCY. NO APPEALS. NO INTERRUPTIONS — or you join the bodies."
The crowd roared — some excited, some terrified, some just trying to pretend they weren't shaking.
Mbali cracked her neck once, twice.
Then leaned forward with a grin that could peel paint.
"Tough night, Gonzalez?" she whispered. "Or are you still pretending you know what you're doing?"
Antonio didn't respond — just stared at her with that cold, tired stillness he wore like armor.
She smirked.
"Good." she said. "Let me make this easy for you."
She picked up the three dice. She kissed the corner of one die, then slammed her hand onto the table and sent the dice spinning.
The room froze.
The dice hit the metal surface.
CLACK—CLACK—CLACK—CLACK—ROLL…
They spun violently, ricocheting off stacks of chips, bouncing toward the edge, nearly falling off — the entire audience gasping as they skidded in a perfect arc.
Then— They stopped.
6. 6. 5.
Marlow whispered from the crowd.
"…That's the Execution Roll." he said, as Someone fainted behind him.
The announcer grinned with wild excitement.
"TRIPLE MAXIMUM CATEGORY. EXECUTION PENALTY UNLOCKED. SACRIFICE VALUE RAISED BY TIMES TWELVE."
The pot spiked instantly.
Screens on the wall recalculated.
$61.6 million.
Mbali leaned toward Antonio, her voice low and venomous.
"You hear that? Sixty one million.
You won't walk away with any of it — Kojo knows it… and deep down, you do too."
Antonio's jaw tightened.
She tapped her dice with a manicured finger.
"You don't belong here, Gonzalez. You're the charity case. The replacement. The one Kojo dragged in because he needed a puppet." she stated.
She leaned even closer.
"And maybe… maybe… a corpse."
The crowd hissed. A few laughed nervously. Kojo's expression didn't change.
The announcer lifted his hand.
"Mbali Legato's score is LOCKED. Antonio Gonzalez — FINAL ROLL."
The arena slammed into silence.
Antonio picked up his dice slowly.
The weight in his hand felt heavier than before — like the metal knew what was riding on this. His pulse thudded in his ears. The world seemed to shrink to the silver table beneath him.
He remembered… Katherine's voice. Stephen's drunken laugh in the car. Amanda's side-eye at Jack's Liquor. And Max's menacing eyes.
And underneath all that — the thing he never said out loud.
"He couldn't die here."
"Not like this."
"Not in a basement full of gamblers and blood."
He exhaled once, then rolled. The dice flew from his fingers like bullets, slamming into the table with violent force.
CLACK—CLACK—CLACK—ROLL—ROLL—ROLL—
Time stretched thin.
Every eye locked on the tumbling cubes.
Mbali smiled — confident she'd already mentally gutted him.
The first die slowed.
Then the second.
Then the last— They settled.
The announcer leaned forward, eyes wide. The crowd surged forward as one. Mbali's smile vanished, as Kojo's eyebrows lifted just barely — the closest he ever got to shock.
Antonio stared at the numbers and whispered "…no way."
Because the dice had landed on…
6. 6. 6.
A collective scream tore through the fire station basement.
Someone shouted "THE DEVIL'S ROLL!"
Another yelled "IMPOSSIBLE!"
Someone else threw up. The announcer dropped his mic, picked it up again, then screamed into it.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN — IN TWELVE YEARS OF THE GOLDEN DICE ROYALE— NO ONE HAS EVER ROLLED THE SIX–SIX–SIX."
Mbali stood frozen, staring at Antonio like she was seeing a ghost.
The announcer slammed his fist into the table.
"THE PENALTY REVERSES! THE STAKES MULTIPLY! THE POT RISES!! TOTAL WINNINGS — $79,200,000!!! ANTONIO GONZALEZ TAKES THE LEAD!"
The crowd exploded into pure chaos. People screamed. People cried. Some fell to their knees. Others ran for the exits, convinced the devil himself had stepped into the arena.
Kojo just nodded once, Satisfied.
Antonio didn't smile, didn't cheer, didn't move.
He just whispered to Mbali... "Looks like you're the charity case."
The basement was a riot of noise — terrified, ecstatic, disbelieving.
Mbali didn't move. She stood frozen, her eyes locked on Antonio like she was trying to solve a puzzle she swore had no answer.
Her chest rose and fell fast — too fast for someone who never lost her composure.
And yet… her hand shook.
"Impossible!" she muttered, voice cracking at the edges. "No one rolls that. Not here. Not in this house."
Antonio didn't gloat, didn't smirk, he didn't even lift his head.
He simply said "Yeah… but i did."
Mbali flinched like he'd hit her.
The announcer staggered to the table like a priest seeing a miracle he wasn't prepared for.
He raised both hands, voice trembling with adrenaline.
"BY THE RULES OF THE GOLDEN DICE ROYALE… BY THE BLOOD OF THE FALLEN BEFORE YOU… BY THE CONTRACTS SIGNED IN THIS VERY ROOM—"
The room hushed… Spectators leaned still.
The announcer slammed his hand down.
"THE WINNER… OF SEVENTY-NINE MILLION, TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS… AND SURVIVOR OF THE 18TH ANNUAL ROYALE— ANTONIO GONZALEZ!"
The crowd erupted. Some cheered. Some screamed in anger. Some in terror.
Kojo nodded once and stepped forward.
Mbali suddenly lunged toward Antonio — not to attack, but to get close enough to hiss.
"You think that makes you better than me? This wasn't luck. Someone put their finger on the scale for you… I know it." She said.
Antonio didn't respond.
Just turned his head slightly, meeting her eyes with cold exhaustion.
Mbali's voice cracked…
"I'll see you around— Playboy."
She slammed her fist into the table so hard chips jumped, then she stormed through the crowd, shoving people aside. A few spectators ducked like she might snap their necks.
Kojo watched her go, then spoke to Antonio without taking his eyes off her "She'll come back. They always come back."
Kojo waved to his men. A heavy metal case was dragged from beneath the elevated platform — chained on both sides, marked with lock seals and red tape. The kind used for cartel transfers.
Two guards flipped the latches. Inside were bundles of cash stacked in towering rows, wrapped tight, crisp and cold.
The weight of seventy-nine million dollars hit the air like a weapon.
Kojo nodded toward Antonio.
"This is yours." he said. "Nearly every cent. Earned fair… mostly."
Antonio didn't smile.
His chest tightened — not with greed, but with dread.
This amount of money didn't solve problems. It created new ones.
Antonio lifted the case with both hands.
It was heavy — so heavy he had to shift his stance to keep balance.
Kojo placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Let's get out of this basement." he said softly. "Before people start thinking of reasons it should have been them instead of you."
They moved through the crowd, people backed away. Whispered. Stared at him like a ghost walking past.
And Antonio holding the case like it was radioactive.
Kojo pushed open the heavy steel door leading to the upstairs hall.
The noise of the basement muffled instantly.
Only the hum of broken fluorescent bulbs followed them.
As they walked, Kojo spoke. "You did good tonight. Better than I expected."
Antonio didn't answer. Kojo glanced at him.
"Don't look at this like a curse." he said. "Look at it like an opportunity."
Antonio finally spoke, "…Feels like both."
Kojo grinned.
"That's how you know it's real."
They reached the stairwell.
Kojo unlocked the door to the outside.
Cold night air washed over Antonio — sharp, clean, nothing like the choking heat of the basement.
The old fire station stood quiet again. Still. Like nothing had happened.
Kojo shoved his hands in his pockets.
"Chapter's over." he said. "But—don't forget to wire my twenty percent." He added
Antonio looked down the empty street.
His pulse still racing. His hands still shaking. His life changed forever by two dice he never wanted to roll.
He exhaled, whispered.
"…Don't worry about it." He stared at Kojo "We'll talk later." He said as he marched onwards to his car.