《When the Gods Play Dice》 When the Gods Play Dice Killed or Be Killed The first time Nile saw a man die, he didn''t scream. He should have. Everyone else did. The blade flashed¡ªtoo fast to process. One moment, the man was standing. The next, he was gurgling on his own blood, hands clawing at his severed throat. The sand drank it greedily. The crowd roared. Nile staggered back, breath ragged, hands trembling. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. "What the hell is this? How did I get here?" A golden throne loomed above the arena, casting a long shadow over the bloodstained battlefield. Seated upon it, draped in royal crimson and gold, was a man Nile never expected to see again. Greg. The name struck like a bolt of lightning. His mind reeled, fragments of a different life crashing together¡ªa dull office, flickering screens, hushed conversations. Greg. His coworker. Nile''s vision blurred. The world tilted. Then¡ª Darkness. When the Gods Play Dice "He''s an odd one, isn''t he?" "Indeed. But he''s¡­ interesting. Your turn to roll the dice." The god leaned forward, picking up a die and giving it a lazy toss. It clattered against the table, landing with a soft thud. "Let''s see what happens next." Far below, in the mortal world, something shifted. The Weight of a Day Nile''s eyes flickered open to the sound of his alarm blaring¡ªshrill, monotonous, relentless. He groaned, rubbing his temples as he forced himself up from the thin mattress that barely supported his aching back. His small apartment was dimly lit by the soft morning sun filtering through a half-broken curtain. The air was thick with the scent of unwashed laundry and stale leftovers from last night''s rushed dinner.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. The day had barely begun, and already, exhaustion clung to him like a second skin. He moved through his usual routine with mechanical precision¡ªboiling water for instant coffee, brushing his teeth as the kettle whistled in protest, scrolling through messages on his phone. Mail Notification: ?? "Bills. Work emails. Missed calls from your wife." His thumb hovered over the screen. A moment of hesitation. Then¡ªhe sighed, locked the device, and tossed it onto the cluttered table. His daughter was sick again. His wife had taken her back to his parents'' home for better care. His job at the IT Managed Services Provider felt more fragile than ever, threatened by automation. Every cent he earned seemed to vanish before he could even hold onto it. A Game of Luck By the time his shift ended, Nile was drained. The chaotic streets swallowed him once more¡ªhonking horns, street vendors shouting, waves of people moving like a current. His phone buzzed. ?? Ethan calling... He swiped to answer. The call dropped. Nile frowned, staring at the screen. Strange. Shaking it off, he kept walking¡ªuntil something caught his eye. Two kids sat on the pavement, playing Snakes and Ladders. One of them groaned as his dice roll sent him sliding down a snake. "Man, my luck is terrible," the kid muttered. Then, noticing Nile watching, he grinned. "Hey, mister, wanna roll for me?" Nile hesitated, then knelt down with a tired smile. "Sure, why not?" He picked up the dice, gave it a quick shake, and rolled. 1. The kid groaned. "Wow, your luck is even worse than mine!" Nile exhaled, shaking his head. Even in a board game, I can''t catch a break. With a tired chuckle, he stood and walked away, the moment already slipping from his mind. Just as he disappeared into the crowd, the other kid tilted his head, studying the board. "He''s not that unlucky," the boy murmured. "You only needed a 1 to win the game." Nile didn''t hear him. But if he had, maybe he would have realized¡ªsometimes, what feels like misfortune is just fate setting the final piece in place. The Blackout When Nile finally got home, his body screamed for rest, but there was still more to do. Laundry. Dishes. A meal to prepare. His hands worked mechanically, pushing through the dull rhythm of his life. One step forward, two steps sinking deeper. As the night deepened, he finally collapsed onto his bed, phone in hand. He scrolled¡ªnews, social media, mindless distractions. "Does he even know what''s coming?" A low chuckle. "He will soon enough." ?? New Mail Notification. Sender: Unknown Subject: Tired? Where''s your luck? Nile frowned. The message felt... off. No sender details. No body text. Just a single, clickable link. He hesitated. Even he knew this was probably phishing or a scam. A smarter man would have ignored it. Deleted it. But something gnawed at him¡ªa whisper in the back of his mind. Before he could stop himself, he clicked. The moment he did¡ª The screen glitched. A brief flicker¡ªthen nothing. The hum of the fan stopped. The distant city noise vanished. The air thickened. Nile''s breath hitched. He reached for a paper towel¡ª And everything changed. Chapter 2: The First Battle: A Lucky Survivor Nile''s breath hitched as silence pressed in around him. The darkness was absolute, swallowing every familiar detail of his cramped apartment. His fingers twitched, still clutching the crumpled paper towel. Then¡ªsomething was wrong. The mattress beneath him was gone. The humid air, the distant honking of jeepneys, the muffled chatter of neighbors¡ªall had vanished. In their place was the thick, suffocating scent of damp stone and something metallic, like rust¡­ or blood. His pulse pounded as his senses sharpened. The darkness wasn''t just darkness¡ªit was a void. Slowly, his eyes adjusted, revealing the faint outline of rough stone walls surrounding him. Cold chains clattered nearby, followed by the hushed murmurs of unfamiliar voices. This isn''t my apartment. Nile''s throat went dry. His heartbeat thundered. Every muscle in his body screamed to run, but where? Then came the sound of clanking metal. Footsteps. Muffled voices. A door scraping open. A guard banged against the iron bars. "Lunchtime. Get moving." Nile jerked awake¡ªor had he been awake the whole time? His head throbbed as he sat up, feeling the damp, unyielding stone beneath him. was looking at his phone browsing the website looking for a paper towel. Then¡ªa blackout. And now, he was here. A prison cell. Ancient walls caked in grime, the air thick with the stench of sweat and decay. The cell gate groaned open, and a blinding light flooded in. Nile shielded his eyes as he stepped forward, and his stomach lurched. Before him stretched a giant coliseum, its towering stands packed with thousands of spectators, their voices merging into a monstrous chant. Ninety-nine other prisoners stood ahead of him, their faces a mix of fear, defiance, and despair. He was the last one required to enter. A soldier barked an order. One by one, the prisoners shuffled forward, their chains dragging behind them. Nile remained frozen, his mind racing to piece together the impossibility of what he was seeing.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. He had gone to bed in his apartment. He had been¡ª A sharp prod to his back sent him stumbling forward. A guard, clad in battered leather and steel, snarled something foreign before shoving him again. The gate loomed ahead. Beyond it, the sun blazed over the vast coliseum. The crowd''s chant grew deafening. "Gladius! Gladius! Gladius!" Nile''s breath shuddered. He didn''t need a translation to understand. Kill or be killed. The gate creaked open. Nile stepped forward, his eyes widening. "What the hell is this? How did I get here?" His gaze landed on the throne. Sitting there was the King¡ªwas that Greg? And he was thrust into history''s cruelest battlefield. The Bloodbath The clash of steel filled the air as chaos erupted around him. Nile barely had time to react before a blade whistled past his face, missing by mere inches. He stumbled back, heart hammering. He wasn''t a fighter¡ªhe was a helpdesk technician. And yet, here he was, surrounded by warriors drenched in blood, fighting for their lives. Somehow, luck kept him alive. He ducked, tripped, and fumbled his way through the carnage, narrowly avoiding slashes that should have ended him. The sand beneath his feet grew slick with blood as men fell one by one. Nile had no strategy, no technique¡ªjust sheer survival instinct and impossible fortune guiding him through the massacre. By the time the bloodbath ended, only fifty remained standing. The rest lay in pieces, their bodies feeding the thirst of the merciless crowd. A horn sounded, signaling the end of the slaughter. The survivors were herded back into the underground chambers like cattle, exhausted and shaken. A Warrior''s Lesson That night, Nile met Ethan, a rugged warrior who had fought with calculated precision. Unlike the others, Ethan had taken notice of Nile''s absurd luck¡ªand the crumpled paper towel still clutched in his hand. Over a meager meal of stale bread and water, Nile whispered his fears. What if this is all just a dream? What if I wake up any second? Ethan scoffed. Without warning, he drove his fist into Nile''s ribs. Pain exploded through Nile''s side. He gasped, clutching his abdomen. "Did that feel real?" Ethan asked, smirking. Nile coughed, glaring at him. "Yeah¡­ what the hell was that for?" "Then stop questioning it," Ethan said. "If you think this is a dream, you''ll die like a fool tomorrow." Tomorrow. Another battle awaited them. Another fight to survive. And above them, seated on a golden throne, the ruler of this cruel world watched¡ªKing Greg, the man who decided their fate. As the sun rose, the arena gates groaned open once more. The next trial had begun. Chapter 3: The Second Trial A dull ache throbbed in Nile''s jaw where Ethan''s fist had landed the night before. Even as he rolled his shoulders and stretched his sore limbs, the sting remained¡ªa stark reminder that whatever was happening, it was painfully real. The iron gates groaned open once more, revealing the blinding light of the coliseum. The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices merging into a thunderous wave that rattled Nile''s already fragile composure. He stepped forward, shielding his eyes from the harsh sun, but what he saw next made his breath catch in his throat. Seated high above the arena, draped in regal gold and crimson, was a man who radiated power. A crown sat upon his head, his sharp gaze surveying the warriors below with cold indifference. Greg. Nile''s heart pounded. He knew that face. But how? Why was Greg here? And more importantly¡ª "Ethan," Nile muttered, stepping closer to his only ally. "Do you see that man?" Ethan followed Nile''s gaze, then scoffed. "Yes, of course. That is King Greg¡ªthe man above us all." A chill slithered down Nile''s spine. His mind whirred, trying to make sense of it all. But Ethan''s next words made everything even more surreal. "I have no idea why you ask," Ethan added, frowning. "You speak as if you do not know him." Nile''s stomach twisted. This wasn''t just a nightmare. It wasn''t some cruel hallucination. Something far worse was happening. The Second Trial Begins Greg lounged on his throne, surrounded by more than five wives, utterly uninterested in the carnage below. He drank deeply from his goblet, laughing as if the slaughter before him were mere entertainment. But the second trial was different. A low growl rumbled through the arena, cutting through the cheers of the crowd. Nile''s breath hitched as he turned his gaze to the center of the battlefield. A massive tiger stood in the middle of the arena, its golden fur marred by streaks of dried blood. Chains dangled loosely from its neck, and scattered around it were weapons¡ªspears, swords, even a rusted axe. The beast''s amber eyes burned with primal rage, its muscles coiled and ready to strike. The announcer''s voice boomed across the coliseum.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Fifty men. One battle. The gates slammed shut behind them. The fight for survival had begun. The Bloodbath A blur of motion caught Nile''s attention. A warrior lunged at him, blade flashing. He barely had time to react. The sharp edge of the sword grazed his arm¡ªa shallow cut, but enough to send a jolt of pain through his body. His breath hitched as his vision distorted for a split second. Then he saw it. Above his head, faint and translucent, a red bar flickered into existence. 100 HP As he stared, the number ticked down. 80 HP His breath caught in his throat. What was this? A health bar? Like in a video game? His mind reeled, but the battlefield didn''t wait for him to figure it out. He had no time to think. As he started to run in circles around the arena, dodging attacks, he noticed something else¡ªa second bar, this one blue, hovering just below the red. It flickered and drained slightly as he moved. A mana bar? His confusion deepened as he tried to piece it together. The tiger let out an earth-shaking roar. And the fight for survival truly began. As Nile ran, narrowly avoiding slashes, the number of survivors dwindled¡ª50¡­ 40¡­ 30¡­ then below 22. The arena was turning into a bloodbath. His breath was ragged, exhaustion creeping into his limbs. Then¡ª A shadow loomed behind him. A warrior swung his blade, aiming for Nile''s neck. His instincts screamed, but his body was too slow. "Ethan! Nile, catch this!" A shield flew through the air. BANG. It smashed into Nile''s head, sending him stumbling back. His vision blurred. "Ethan?" Nile gasped, turning to his ally. Ethan nodded, still catching his breath. "Keep your guard up!" Before Nile could get up, another enemy rushed in. He was only inches from death when Ethan''s spear whistled through the air and impaled the attacker, sending him crumpling to the ground. Survivors remaining: 21. Nile turned to find the source¡ª But the battle was too chaotic to know who or what had saved him¡ªuntil he looked up and saw the tiger standing over him, a severed head between its fangs. Blood dripped from its claws. Survivors remaining: 20. And just like that¡ªthe fight was over. The announcer declared the battle done. The survivors¡ªnow only 20¡ªwere herded back through the gates, the crowd roaring in approval. The second trial had ended. The Night Before the Final Battle Nile collapsed onto the cold stone floor of his cell, lungs burning. Every inch of his body ached, but he was alive. Ethan knelt beside him, his face unreadable. "You made it." Nile exhaled, his relief short-lived. "Barely." Ethan''s tone darkened. "Now comes the real test." Nile swallowed hard. "What do you mean?" Ethan''s expression turned grim. "The trials started with 100 men. Then 50. Now 20." He exhaled sharply. "Tomorrow, we fight until only five remain." A shiver ran down Nile''s spine. He had been lucky today. But tomorrow, luck might not be enough. Chapter 4: A Warrior’s Resolve The prison gates slammed shut behind the twenty remaining survivors. The scent of sweat, blood, and damp stone filled the air as exhausted bodies collapsed onto the cold floor. Nile leaned against the wall, his mind still reeling from the chaotic battle. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his muscles ached, and his heartbeat refused to settle. Ethan sat beside him, arms resting on his knees, his gaze distant. Nile took a moment of silence to gather his thoughts before finally speaking. "How do you know that after twenty, only five will remain?" Nile asked, his voice hoarse. Ethan exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. "Because I''ve seen it before," he said. "In the last Arena Event, my brother was one of the last five survivors." Nile frowned. "What happened to him?" Ethan''s jaw tightened. "He fought with everything he had. Made it to the final five. But in the end, there was only one winner." His fists clenched. "The champion gets a wish¡ªanything they desire¡ªfrom King Greg himself." Nile''s eyes widened. "A wish?" Ethan nodded. "We don''t know if it''s magic or just the king''s power, but whatever the victor asks for, it''s granted. Wealth, freedom, revenge¡­ anything." Nile swallowed hard. "And what did the last winner wish for?" Ethan''s expression darkened, his voice laced with barely concealed fury. "He wished for King Greg''s other five wives." Nile''s brow furrowed. "Why?" Ethan took a deep breath. "Before that, King Greg had ten wives. That man¡ªlast year''s champion¡ªwas obsessed with power. He wanted what the king had, and Greg, bound by his own rules, granted the request."Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Nile shook his head in disbelief. "And your brother?" "The winner and my brother were the last two standing," Ethan said, his voice hollow. "But the bastard cheated. He pretended to fall, luring my brother into a false sense of victory. Then, in an instant, he struck from behind." A heavy silence hung between them. Nile finally spoke. "If the winner can wish for anything, why not ask for the king''s death? Or his throne?" Ethan let out a bitter chuckle. "That''s the only rule. You can''t wish for King Greg''s death or his position." Nile sighed, rubbing his temples. "So that''s why you''re here." Ethan nodded. "I''ll win. I''ll make a wish to have that man executed. That''s my revenge." A fire sparked in Nile''s chest. "Then I''ll help you," he said firmly. "I promise." Ethan''s eyes narrowed. "If we make it to the final two, I won''t hesitate to kill you." Nile smirked. "I''d expect nothing less. But if I die, make sure you win." For the first time, Ethan gave a small smile. "Deal." Training for Survival That night, Nile asked Ethan to teach him how to fight¡ªhow to survive. Ethan agreed, and they practiced in the dimly lit cell. With no real weapons, they used spoons as makeshift daggers and pork bones as spears. Ethan demonstrated how to throw with precision, mimicking his spear throw from the previous battle. Nile listened intently, absorbing every lesson. "Aim for the gaps," Ethan instructed. "The throat, the eyes, under the ribs. A single, well-placed strike is better than a dozen reckless swings." Nile nodded, gripping the bone in his hand. He felt ridiculous¡ªhow could a spoon or a bone compare to a real weapon? But in this arena, survival was all that mattered. After hours of training, they sat against the stone wall, sharing what little food they had left. The exhaustion weighed heavily on them. "Tomorrow will be worse," Ethan muttered. Nile exhaled. "I know." What they didn''t know was that while they trained, the other fifteen survivors were forming alliances. Three groups of five had emerged, each determined to secure their place in the final five. By the time the gates opened the next day, Nile and Ethan¡ªalone¡ªhad no idea what was coming. Chapter 5: The King’s Game The Summons Early the next morning, the prison stirred awake with the thunderous footsteps of approaching guards. The iron gates creaked open, and a deep voice rang through the dimly lit chamber. "All five of King Greg''s wives have returned." Murmurs spread among the prisoners¡ªconfusion, curiosity, and unease flashing across their weary faces. But no one reacted more than one man. Aron. The last champion of the arena. His head snapped up, muscles tensing like a coiled spring. For a moment, he remained still, processing the words. Then, without hesitation, he pushed himself to his feet and stormed toward the exit. The guards barely spared him a glance as he shoved past them, his steps heavy against the stone floors. He knew exactly where to go. The throne room. The King''s Trap When Aron arrived, King Greg was already waiting. Draped in opulent silks and golden ornaments, Greg lounged on his throne, a goblet of wine in hand. A smirk played on his lips as he watched Aron approach. "Well, well." Greg swirled his drink lazily. "Look who finally decided to show himself." Aron didn''t slow. His eyes locked onto Greg, rage boiling beneath his skin. Then¡ªhe lunged. Greg didn''t move. Two figures King Greg''s Wives forward. Isolde¡ªa former knight with unmatched swordsmanship¡ªmoved like a phantom, steel flashing as she intercepted him.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Amara¡ªa brutal brawler¡ªswung low, her fist slamming into Aron''s gut like a battering ram. Aron''s breath ripped from his lungs, pain exploding through his ribs. Before he could recover, his arms were wrenched back, thick ropes binding his wrists together. By the time he gasped for breath, Greg was already laughing. Aron''s fists clenched, but the ropes held firm. "Where are they?" His voice was low, dangerous. Greg chuckled, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. "You mean your wives?" He took a sip of wine before setting the goblet down. "They''re right where I left them. In the dungeons." Aron''s jaw tightened. "You promised me a wish. I wished for them. They belong to me." Greg leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand, his grin widening. "Ah, but you never wished for wealth. Never asked for land, food, or power. You only wanted five women. Tell me, Aron¡ªhow do you plan to feed them? Where will you shelter them?" His eyes glinted with cruel amusement. "Did you think I''d provide for them?" The words struck like a blade to the gut. Aron took a step forward, his hands twitching toward his bound wrists, frustration boiling inside him. The guards tensed, hands on their hilts. Greg simply raised a hand. The room fell silent. Then, with a slow, calculated smirk, he spoke. "I''ll give you one more chance." Aron''s breathing was heavy, controlled only by sheer will. "What do you mean?" Greg leaned back, feigning boredom. "Win the arena again. And I''ll grant you a second wish." His smirk widened. "This time, perhaps you''ll make a smarter choice." The amusement in his voice was infuriating. "Choose wealth. Choose land. Choose something that will keep your precious wives from starving." Aron''s body trembled with rage, his nails digging into his palms. He had no choice. He knew that. Greg knew that. This was never about granting wishes. It was about control. And then¡ª "One more thing," Greg added, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "You will fight under a mask. No one will know your face until the end." Aron''s breath caught. Of course. The king wasn''t just forcing him to fight. He was erasing him. Stripping away the champion''s identity. Making sure that when Aron stepped into that arena again, no one would chant his name. No one would know his story. Just another nameless gladiator, destined to kill and bleed for the crowd''s entertainment. Aron swallowed hard, his jaw locking. He knew the game the king was playing. And he had no choice but to play along. Chapter 6: Hunting Shadows Ethan woke early to the sound of guards murmuring outside their cell. He sat up, straining to catch their words. Something about wives¡­ something about a return. His brow furrowed. The whispers weren''t just idle gossip¡ªthere was something more to it. Beside him, Nile stirred, blinking away the last traces of sleep. His fingers instinctively reached for his chest, searching for the strange HP and MP bars he had seen yesterday. Nothing. No glowing bars, no indicators. Was it real? Or just a trick of his mind? The iron doors creaked open as the remaining survivors were gathered. Fifteen men. Three groups of five, each forming an alliance, driven by fear and desperation. Nile and Ethan, however, remained apart¡ªoutsiders in a game where trust was as dangerous as the enemy. The tension in the air thickened. Ethan suddenly barked at the nearest guard. "Hey! What wives? Whose wives?" His voice carried through the chamber, demanding answers. "Where is Aron?!" At the name, Nile stiffened. A shiver ran down his spine. Aron... Something about it scratched at the edge of his memory, stirring echoes of a different life. His job. There had been someone named Aron at his workplace. A coworker. The realization struck like a punch to the gut. His breath quickened as he turned to Ethan. "And Greg... King Greg," Nile muttered under his breath. His mind raced, piecing together fragments of memories. The king''s face¡ªit was the same as his coworker back home. His pulse thundered in his ears. Why were these names and faces here? Why did this world feel so familiar? Before he could unravel the mystery, a horn blared through the prison, cutting through his thoughts. A guard stepped forward, his cold gaze sweeping over the survivors. "Shut up," he barked. "There''s been a change. The arena battle will start tomorrow." The games weren''t over yet. And neither were his questions. The Tiger Returns An hour passed in uneasy silence before the gates creaked open again. A guard stepped inside, his voice flat. "Dinner."Stolen novel; please report. The scent of stale bread and watery soup barely reached Nile''s nose before¡ª A deep, familiar growl cut through the air. His stomach twisted. The tiger from yesterday entered the prison. A shiver ran down every survivor''s spine. They all remembered its brutal presence in the arena¡ªthe beast that had slain with precision and savagery. The survivors clutched their meager meals, inching back. Five men huddled together, whispering in hushed urgency. Another five did the same. But the last three¡ªthe ones without an alliance¡ªstood exposed. The tiger''s golden eyes locked onto two of them. A blur of fur and fangs¡ª Screams never had the chance to escape their throats before the beast pounced. Blood splattered across the cold prison floor. The two outcasts were ripped apart in an instant. Panic surged through the chamber. Then¡ª Ethan moved. He grabbed the nearest wooden bedstick and struck the tiger across the face with all his strength. A snarl of pain erupted from the beast. Seeing their chance, the other survivors lunged forward, their weapons crude but desperate. Sticks. Broken plates. Bare fists. They struck at the tiger, forcing it to reel back, but the beast wasn''t done yet. With its last remaining strength, it let out a final, guttural roar and lunged straight at Ethan. He had no time to react. Then¡ª A wooden stick whistled through the air. It struck the tiger in the skull with a sickening crack. The beast collapsed inches away from Ethan. Its body twitched once before finally going still. Ethan turned in shock, his breath heavy. Nile stood there, arm still outstretched from the throw. For a moment, silence filled the prison. Then¡ªEthan let out a breathless chuckle. "Nice throw." The tiger was finally dead. Newcomers & Suspicion The prison gate creaked open once more. The guards entered, dragging the tiger''s corpse away while counting the remaining survivors. Then¡ª Two masked figures were escorted inside. The sight sent a ripple of unease through the prisoners. Newcomers. But who were they? And why now? The air thickened with tension. Before dawn, the guards returned, their voices cutting through the dim chamber. "The arena battles will soon resume." Exhausted, wary, and covered in blood¡ª The survivors realized one thing. They had little time to recover. Chapter 7: The Will to Fight Nile''s heart pounded as he watched Ethan strike the tiger with nothing but a wooden bedstick. The sheer bravery¡ªthe refusal to back down, even against an unstoppable force¡ªsent a jolt of determination through him. He clenched his fists. If Ethan could stand his ground, so could he. The beast reeled from the blow, but it wasn''t finished yet. With a snarl, it turned its fury upon Ethan, muscles coiling for one last, desperate attack. Nile''s breath hitched. He had to act now. Frantically, his eyes darted across the room. Something. Anything. His gaze locked onto a broken wooden table, one of its legs jagged at the end. That will do. Without hesitation, he sprinted forward, grabbing the splintered wood and pressing it against the rough prison wall, sharpening the tip into a makeshift spear. Memories of yesterday''s training with Ethan flashed in his mind¡ªhow to throw, how to aim, how to make every shot count. The tiger lunged. Nile tightened his grip, steadied his breath, and focused. There. A weak point¡ªjust behind the tiger''s ear. He had noticed it before, back in the arena. His fingers burned as he hurled the wooden spear with everything he had. A sickening crack. The makeshift weapon pierced through the tiger''s skull.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. The beast let out a final, gurgled growl before collapsing inches away from Ethan. For a moment¡ªsilence. Then¡ª Ethan turned, breath heavy, and locked eyes with Nile. Neither spoke. Then, a small grin spread across Ethan''s face. "Not bad." Nile''s arms trembled, his chest rising and falling in sharp gasps. He hadn''t expected to react so instinctively, but seeing Ethan charge at the beast had awakened something in him. Courage. A desperate need to act. And now¡ªhe had saved Ethan''s life. The other survivors stood frozen, their eyes flicking between Nile and the lifeless beast. Then¡ª The prison gate groaned open. The Newcomers A group of guards entered, their expressions unreadable. Without a word, they moved toward the tiger''s corpse, hoisting its massive body onto a wooden cart. Through the blood-streaked air, Ethan, still on his feet, used the last of his strength to shout¡ª "WHERE IS ARON?!" The raw desperation in his voice sent a chill down Nile''s spine. A sound followed¡ªchains rattling against stone. A guard stepped forward, cold eyes scanning the room. In one hand, he held a clipboard, methodically counting each remaining survivor. "Eighteen." A nod. A single gesture toward the entrance. Then¡ª Two figures stepped inside. The air grew tense. They wore the same ragged tunics as the prisoners, but their faces were hidden beneath crude masks¡ªone of wood, the other of iron. An uneasy murmur rippled through the survivors. Who were they? Why were they hiding their faces? The lead guard''s voice cut through the tension. "These two will join your ranks." His gaze swept over the prisoners, lingering just long enough to remind them who held the power. Then¡ªa warning. "It''s almost morning." His voice carried an eerie finality. "The arena will resume shortly. Prepare yourselves." Without another word, the guards turned and marched out, leaving the prisoners in uneasy silence. The weight of what lay ahead settled over them like a suffocating fog. Nile swallowed hard. The real fight was just beginning. Chapter 8: The Kings Feast Nile''s heart pounded as he watched Ethan strike the tiger with nothing but a wooden bedstick. The sheer bravery¡ªthe refusal to back down, even against an unstoppable force¡ªsent a jolt of determination through him. He clenched his fists. If Ethan could stand his ground, so could he. The beast reeled from the blow, but it wasn''t finished yet. With a snarl, it turned its fury upon Ethan, muscles coiling for one last, desperate attack. Nile''s breath hitched. He had to act now. Frantically, his eyes darted across the room. Something. Anything. His gaze locked onto a broken wooden table, one of its legs jagged at the end. That will do. Without hesitation, he sprinted forward, grabbing the splintered wood and pressing it against the rough prison wall, sharpening the tip into a makeshift spear. Memories of yesterday''s training with Ethan flashed in his mind¡ªhow to throw, how to aim, how to make every shot count. The tiger lunged. Nile tightened his grip, steadied his breath, and focused. There. A weak point¡ªjust behind the tiger''s ear. He had noticed it before, back in the arena. His fingers burned as he hurled the wooden spear with everything he had. A sickening crack. The makeshift weapon pierced through the tiger''s skull.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. The beast let out a final, gurgled growl before collapsing inches away from Ethan. For a moment¡ªsilence. Then¡ª Ethan turned, breath heavy, and locked eyes with Nile. Neither spoke. Then, a small grin spread across Ethan''s face. "Not bad." Nile''s arms trembled, his chest rising and falling in sharp gasps. He hadn''t expected to react so instinctively, but seeing Ethan charge at the beast had awakened something in him. Courage. A desperate need to act. And now¡ªhe had saved Ethan''s life. The other survivors stood frozen, their eyes flicking between Nile and the lifeless beast. Then¡ª The prison gate groaned open. The Newcomers A group of guards entered, their expressions unreadable. Without a word, they moved toward the tiger''s corpse, hoisting its massive body onto a wooden cart. Through the blood-streaked air, Ethan, still on his feet, used the last of his strength to shout¡ª "WHERE IS ARON?!" The raw desperation in his voice sent a chill down Nile''s spine. A sound followed¡ªchains rattling against stone. A guard stepped forward, cold eyes scanning the room. In one hand, he held a clipboard, methodically counting each remaining survivor. "Eighteen." A nod. A single gesture toward the entrance. Then¡ª Two figures stepped inside. The air grew tense. They wore the same ragged tunics as the prisoners, but their faces were hidden beneath crude masks¡ªone of wood, the other of iron. An uneasy murmur rippled through the survivors. Who were they? Why were they hiding their faces? The lead guard''s voice cut through the tension. "These two will join your ranks." His gaze swept over the prisoners, lingering just long enough to remind them who held the power. Then¡ªa warning. "It''s almost morning." His voice carried an eerie finality. "The arena will resume shortly. Prepare yourselves." Without another word, the guards turned and marched out, leaving the prisoners in uneasy silence. The weight of what lay ahead settled over them like a suffocating fog. Nile swallowed hard. The real fight was just beginning. Chapter 9: Whispers of Fate Nile''s head throbbed as he regained consciousness, the damp scent of stone filling his nostrils. His body felt leaden, his limbs sluggish¡ªbut something was wrong. The air around him was thick with silence, punctuated only by the distant sound of footsteps and the hushed murmurs of voices beyond the iron bars. Then, he heard them. The guards. "The battle will start soon," one muttered, his voice a whisper on the stale air. "The king had a brilliant idea," another replied, amusement curling in his tone. "Separating each prisoner. Masking their faces. Let''s see how they rip each other apart now." Nile''s pulse spiked, his breath quickening. Masks? Ethan. The others. They were out there¡ªbut now, no one would recognize each other. No alliances. No trust. Just chaos. Then¡ª A voice. Not from the guards. Not from anyone nearby. But from within his own head. "Are you content?... Is this enough?... Do you want victory? Check your pocket¡­ roll your luck" A shiver crawled up his spine. His hand moved instinctively, sliding into his left pocket. His fingers brushed against something soft. Something impossibly familiar. A paper towel. His breath hitched. The same one from before. The very one he was staring at when he first arrived in this world. But how? How was this here? What would I do with a single paper towel?! His thoughts spiraled, panic creeping into his veins. Was this proof the world wasn''t real? A sign? A cruel trick of the arena? His chest tightened, heart hammering in his ears. His body screamed at him¡ªrun, fight, survive¡ªbut his mind fixated on the absurdity of it all. Then, a chilling thought struck him.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Is the wish still real? Could he still escape? Could he still go home? The clanking of iron snapped him back to the now. The prison door groaned open. Tension coiled in his muscles, every nerve-fraying as adrenaline surged through his veins. His breathing quickened, and his senses sharpened. What would I do with this paper towel?! How could I survive with this? If it were a weapon, a knife¡ªanything but this useless scrap! Then¡ª A faint glow from his right pocket. A flicker of cold, unnatural light against his ribs. Nile''s breath stalled as he reached for it, fingers trembling. The moment he touched it, a pulse of energy snapped through his arm, electric and foreign. His heart lurched. A Dice Shock gripped him. Where had this come from? He had nothing before. The guards had stripped him of everything. Yet here it was. Dice.. Before he could process it, heavy footsteps approached. A guard loomed in the doorway, his helmet concealing any hint of emotion. Without a word, he motioned for Nile to step forward. The moment he did, rough hands clamped onto him, dragging him into the corridor. The Arena of Shadows The hallway stretched endlessly, lined with masked figures. Prisoners, just like him. Each one clad in unfamiliar garments. Stripped of their identities. The tension was suffocating. No one spoke. No one knew who stood beside them. They marched in silence, the distant roar of the coliseum growing louder with each step. And then¡ª Blinding light. The gates swung open, revealing a sea of spectators. The crowd erupted in savage cheers, their excitement deafening. Above them, perched high on his throne, King Greg watched, his ten wives lounging beside him, their faces alight with amusement. The king''s smirk widened as he leaned forward, his golden goblet glinting in the sun. A single deep drumbeat rumbled through the air. The battle was about to begin. Ethan''s Search Ethan stood across the arena, his stance tight with tension. His eyes raked over the masked figures, his heart pounding in his chest. Where is he? He scanned their movements, their posture, their stance¡ªbut he couldn''t find Nile. Everyone looked the same. Every mask erased the faces of the men he had fought beside. His fingers curled into fists. If he couldn''t recognize Nile¡ªthen the Nile couldn''t recognize him either. Damn it. There was no time for plans. No time for signals. The weapons were scattered across the sand, glinting under the sun. Twenty contestants. Nineteen enemies. And in Nile''s hand¡ª A single, out-of-place paper towel. A reminder of a world long gone. The Blood Trial Begins At the second tumble of the drum, the prisoners instinctively sized each other up. Some reached for weapons. Others stepped back, calculating their odds. The masks turned them all into strangers. No one knew who their allies were. Suspicion clouded every mind. Then¡ª A final, thunderous beat. The king raised his goblet. "Let the game begin." And the killing started. Chapter 10: A Faded Memory of Ethan On the Arena Ethan moved through the masked survivors, his eyes flicking from one figure to the next, searching. "Where is he?" he muttered under his breath, frustration gnawing at him. But as soon as the words left his lips, a troubling thought crept into his mind. Why was he even looking for Nile? They had only met in the arena. Two strangers are thrown into a fight for survival. So why did he care? A flicker of unease settled in his chest. Then¡ªlike a fleeting whisper¡ªa memory surfaced. Not of Nile. But of someone else. A face. A voice. A brother. But the image was blurry, slipping through his grasp before he could hold onto it. Then¡ªit was gone. A dull ache pulsed in his chest as if something long buried was struggling to break free. And then, the past came flooding in. Ethan''s Past It all started with a party. Flashing lights. The pulsing music. The haze of alcohol and drugs. Ethan barely remembered how long he had been there, lost in the chaos of it all. The night was a blur¡ªuntil something pulled his focus. A mail notification. His vision was hazy, but the subject line caught his attention. The words swam in front of him, distorted and unclear. "Are you tired?" His head throbbed. His fingers moved before he could process what he was doing. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a feeling of unease crept in. He tried to shake it off. His instincts told him to call Nile. His hand fumbled for his phone. His fingers tapped the screen. The ringing tone hummed in his ears¡ª Then¡ª His finger slipped. A click. Unintentional. Automatic. The mail opened. Then, darkness. The Awakening When Ethan opened his eyes, he wasn''t in the modern world anymore. Instead, he stood outside a massive castle, the cold air biting at his skin. A group of unknown men surrounded him, their eyes locked onto the golden rings and chains he wore. Predators are drawn to treasure.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. His mind was foggy. Who were they? Who was he? Before he could react, the men lunged. Ethan stumbled back, instincts screaming, but he was too slow. They struck like vultures, ready to tear him apart. Then¡ª A shadow emerged from the darkness. Steel flashed. A blade sang. In an instant, the attackers were on the ground, groaning in pain. Ethan gasped, looking up at his savior. A man, clad in tattered armor, stood before him(Kail). Kail. A knight once bound by duty, stripped of his title for defying corruption. A warrior who had sworn a single vow¡ªto never turn his back on injustice. Ethan tried to speak, but the world spun. A sharp pain stabbed into his skull. Then¡ªdarkness took him once more. Three Days Later Ethan stirred, his body aching, his mind hazy. The small wooden house smelled of herbs and damp earth. He sat up with a groan. "What¡­ happened? Who am I?" Kail, who sat sharpening his blade, studied him. Without a word, he reached into his pocket and placed something in Ethan''s hand. A golden necklace. Ethan blinked, his fingers tracing the engraved letters. E T H A N. His own name. He whispered it under his breath. "Ethan¡­" Kail''s sharp gaze flickered with something unreadable. "You can read that?" Ethan hesitated before nodding. "Yeah¡­" Then, a sharp pain stabbed through his skull. His vision blurred. Fragments of something¡ªsomeone¡ªflashed through his mind. Voices. Laughter. A brother? Then¡ªnothing. The memories were there, buried deep, but they refused to surface. Ethan gritted his teeth, gripping the necklace tighter. Who was he? And what had he forgotten? Another Day Passes Kail had left early that morning. Ethan had barely taken a step outside when a group of knights in heavy armor arrived. They stormed the small house, searching for Kail. When they failed to find him, their eyes fell on Ethan. On the golden necklace hanging from his neck. One knight sneered. "That doesn''t belong to you." Ethan''s grip tightened. "It was given to me." They didn''t care. Without warning, they seized him. He fought back¡ªhis fists swinging, his breath ragged¡ªbut he was still too weak. They tore the necklace from his grasp. Laughter rang in his ears as they shoved him to the ground, leaving with their prize. By the time Kail returned, Ethan was bruised and silent. But his eyes burned with something new. Anger. Shame. Determination. He recounted everything, his voice tight. "I tried to stop them. But I wasn''t strong enough." Kail studied him, his expression unreadable. Then, with quiet resolve, he turned toward the door. Ethan grabbed his arm. "No! Don''t go after them. Not yet." A pause. Then¡ªa small nod. "Then we train." Kail''s voice was steady, unwavering. "From this moment forward, we are brothers." Ethan froze. The words struck something deep within him¡ªsomething painfully familiar. Though his past remained a mystery, for the first time since waking in this world, he felt like he belonged. The Arena Beckons Ethan clenched his fists as the memories faded. He had stepped into this damned arena for a reason. Not as a lost soul. Not as a victim. But as a warrior. Kail had entered the arena, risking everything for a wish¡ªto end the corruption of the knights. Ethan knew the rumors. Every wish the king granted was real. If Kail had fallen, if his wish had never been fulfilled¡ªthen Ethan would have finished what his brother started. His gaze swept across the masked warriors. His hands twitched, aching for a weapon. And in his heart, a single thought burned. Is Ethan ready to avenge his brother? The drums thundered. The king raised his goblet, watching them like a god overseeing his playthings. "Let the game begin." The battle for survival had start Chapter 11: Greg – The Fallen King’s Rise The Arena of Fate The golden goblet trembled slightly in Greg''s grasp as he raised it high above his head. A smirk curled on his lips as he gazed down at the bloodstained arena below. "Let the game begin!" he roared, his voice booming across the coliseum. The crowd erupted into a frenzy, chanting his name, their excitement feeding his ego. But just as he brought the goblet to his lips, a knight approached. "My King." The knight knelt before him, armored hand extended, holding something small yet gleaming in the sunlight. Greg''s gaze sharpened as he reached for it. A golden necklace. The metal felt cool against his palm, but his chest burned as his eyes locked onto the engraved name. E T H A N. The world around him tilted. His fingers clenched the necklace so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His pulse thundered in his ears. His voice was low, dangerous. "Where did you get this?" The knight hesitated. "It belonged to a contestant, my King." Greg''s breath hitched. A contestant...? He''s here? His vision blurred. The arena, the throne, the cheering crowd¡ªall faded into nothingness. And then¡ª The past crashed into him like a storm. The Life Before ¨C A Man of Selfish Ambition Greg was no tycoon, no great leader. He was just a man who saw an opportunity¡ªand took it. A company was hiring. The position paid well, and Greg didn''t ask questions. What he didn''t know¡ªwhat no one told him¡ªwas that the job had belonged to someone else just days before. Aron. A man Greg had never met. A man who had worked there for years¡ªuntil they let him go. Greg didn''t care. He was too busy celebrating his new paycheck while Aron packed up his desk, wondering how he would feed his family. But Greg never knew. And he never cared to ask. Not until everything fell apart. A Temptation That Changed EverythingHelp support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. At Aron''s farewell party, the man himself never showed up. But his wife did. She was almost in her forties, yet to Greg, she looked like a goddess from his youth¡ªa vision that reminded him of his 18th birthday, a time when he believed in love at first sight. And that was where it all began. The Fall ¨C From Comfort to Chaos Months later, Greg''s life spiraled out of control. He had always been reckless¡ªjuggling multiple affairs, living as if the world owed him pleasure. But this time, he slipped. His wife found out. At first, Greg laughed it off, thinking he could charm his way out of it. But then¡ªshe showed him the proof. Photos. Messages. Recordings. His entire web of lies unraveled in an instant. She didn''t scream. She didn''t beg. She simply said: "You''re going to lose everything." And she was right. Divorce. Lawsuits. Scandal. The company, unwilling to deal with the backlash, fired him. The very job he had taken from someone else¡ªgone. He lost his home, his status, his money. And finally¡ªhis freedom. Because when the debts piled up, when there was nowhere left to turn¡ª Greg made a deal with the wrong people. And they threw him into a prison where men like him didn''t last long. The Prison ¨C A Hell of His Own Making There was no escape. And the prisoners knew it. Night after night, they tormented him. They whispered in his ear. Told him things he didn''t want to hear. "You had everything, and you threw it away." "Do you think the people you stepped on will ever forgive you?" "You deserve worse." Then one night¡ª As he lay on the cold stone floor, too weak to fight, too broken to care¡ª A breath ghosted against his ear. A voice. Soft. Familiar. "It will happen again tomorrow." His eyes snapped open. A group of prisoners surrounded him. Watching. Waiting. Greg tried to fight back. But he was too weak. A week passed, and the torment didn''t stop. For weeks, Greg tried to call his attorney, his family, his friends¡ª No one answered. He was alone. Forgotten. And then¡ª One day, as he desperately tried calling his friend, hoping someone¡ªanyone¡ªwould pick up¡­ The line clicked. A cold silence stretched across the receiver. Then, a voice. "Are you tired?" Greg''s breath hitched. A shiver crawled up his spine. And then¡ªdarkness. The Awakening ¨C A New Nightmare The next time he opened his eyes, he expected to be in prison. He expected fluorescent lights. The sterile air. Instead¡ª He woke up in a massive bed, draped in the finest silk. Sunlight streamed through towering stained-glass windows. Golden chandeliers cast warm light upon the grand room. Greg sat up, fingers pressing against the soft sheets. This wasn''t a prison. His body still ached from the beatings, but this place¡­ it was nothing like the hell he had been trapped in. A knock on the door. It opened before he could answer. A row of servants¡ªmaids, butlers, and armored guards¡ªbowed low. Their voices rang in unison. "Good morning, King Greg." His breath caught in his throat. A kingdom. A powerful kingdom. And he¡ªits ruler. His nightmare had only just begun. To Be Continued. Chapter 12: The Throne and the Arena Greg walked through the grand halls of his kingdom, his ten wives trailing behind him in elegant silk gowns, and ten guards following closely. Servants and soldiers knelt as he passed, their heads bowed in reverence. The sheer weight of their obedience unsettled him. All of them¡­ kneeling. This wasn''t admiration. It was submission. He could feel it¡ªthe power, the control¡ªbut also the unease creeping into his chest. Why him? What had he done to deserve this? Then¡ª A sudden commotion. A man sprinted through the courtyard, dodging guards, slipping past their grasp with desperate agility. He was running for his life. Greg''s eyes narrowed. His instincts flared. The man didn''t slow down. He weaved through the open path and¡ª Collided straight into Greg. Gasps rippled through the crowd. The guards lunged forward, ready to punish the man for his insolence. Greg, stunned, stepped back, his jaw tightening. How dare he¡­ not recognize the King? But before the guards could seize him, something caught Greg''s eye. A small object tumbled from the man''s grasp¡ª A wallet. Greg''s gaze locked onto it instantly. He reached down and picked it up. The leather felt worn, familiar. His fingers flipped it open. Inside was a photograph. A man and a woman. Greg''s breath hitched. The woman¡ª He knew her. She was one of his affairs in the modern world. His grip on the wallet tightened. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. He flipped to the ID inside¡ªhis vision blurring as he read the name. Aron. Greg''s chest constricted. His pulse turned ice-cold. No. No, no, no. The realization struck him like a blade to the gut. This is the man I replaced. His mind raced, pieces of the past snapping together. His life before¡ªhis reckless ambition, his indifference, his downfall. The prison. The suffering. And now, this man. Here. In his kingdom.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Greg''s breath shuddered. His fingers curled around the wallet like a lifeline. Did Aron put me in that prison? Did he orchestrate all of this? A dark chill ran down his spine. If he did¡­ what happens next? The guard turned to Greg, awaiting his command. "My king, do you want to catch that person?" Greg, still dazed, nodded. "Yes." For three days, the guards hunted Aron, finally capturing him and throwing him into the dungeon. A guard approached Greg, bowing. "My king, shall we put him in the arena?" Greg frowned. "What arena?" The guards laughed. "You jest, my king. You were the champion of the last arena. You requested to replace the old king and had him thrown into the dungeon. The last rule is that a king cannot be killed." Greg felt his stomach drop. "Continue¡­ Gather all the elders. I want every detail explained to me." The elders were summoned, their faces worn with age and wisdom. They spoke of the ancient laws governing the kingdom, carved into a stone tablet that only the king could alter¡ªonce every five years. The Five Immutable Laws: The elder''s expression grew solemn. "My king, our gods govern this realm, and each kingdom follows the divine decrees written on their sacred stone tablet. Each kingdom is guided by one of the Seven Gods of Luck." The Seven Gods of Luck: Eldorin, God of Fortune ¨CThe divine patron of prosperity, trade, and unexpected windfalls. (First Kingdom) Vaelora, Goddess of Chance¨C The trickster deity who governs fate, gambling, and life''s unpredictable turns. (Second Kingdom) Zeraphis, The Smiling God ¨C A mysterious deity whose favor brings miracles and impossible victories. (Fifth Kingdom) Thalvian, The Gambler''s Hand ¨C A god worshiped by warriors and risk-takers, blessing only those who dare greatly.(Third Kingdom) Lunara, Goddess of Serendipity ¨C The unseen hand that guides people to fortunate encounters and missed disasters. (Fourth Kingdom) Draven, The Silver Coin ¨C A neutral god who bestows luck upon those who honor the balance of fate. (Sixth Kingdom) Mythros, The Hidden Patron ¨C The silent god of fate, whose blessings are rare but life-altering. (Seventh Kingdom) The Mortal Who Became a God The elder''s voice deepened. "There was once a man named Zeraphis who challenged the god ¡ªand won. Through cunning and sheer determination, he ascended to godhood, proving that fate itself could be rewritten." He continued, "Each of these gods bestowed their respective kingdom with a sacred tablet inscribed with five divine rules, unique to each land. Our kingdom, the Fifth Kingdom, follows the will of Zeraphis, The Smiling God, who watches over fate and grants fortune to the most daring." "The arena is not merely a test of strength¡ªit is a sacred ritual to honor these gods. Only through the cycle of combat can we maintain their favor, for they delight in the spectacle of champions rising and falling." The Arena & Its Laws The elder took a deep breath before continuing. "My king, the start of the 325th arena will soon begin. Only the king has the power to commence it." Greg listened intently, absorbing every word. He needed to change the rules fast. His mind raced with a single thought. If the 325th arena battle is completed, I can change the rules. I can make it so that I can never be removed or killed from the throne. One elder hesitated before stepping forward. "My king, we cannot proceed with this now. You have just won the throne. The laws dictate that only after ruling for one full year may a king commence the arena again." Greg''s gaze darkened, his voice sharp. "I''m the king, and I am the rule. Only the king can start the arena, and I say it begins now." The elders exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared to challenge him further. Greg''s fingers curled into fists. "Set up the arena. Put Aron in it." A storm was brewing. And this time, Greg would control it. As he turned back toward the throne, a slow, satisfied grin spread across his face. For the first time in a long while¡­ Greg felt truly happy. The Start of the 325th Arena Aron won. Throwing Aron back into the arena wasn''t just strategy¡ªit was pleasure. As he watched the 326th battle unfold, Greg tightened his grip around Ethan''s necklace, running his fingers over its familiar shape. A strange sight caught his eye. Every warrior in the arena wore a mask, their identities concealed. To Be Continued... Chapter 13: Arons Fate – The Champion’s Curse In the modern world, Aron was a man of status and power. A wealthy director. A leader. A man at the top. But before that, he had been a champion. As a teenager, Aron was unstoppable. Every sports club he joined¡ªbasketball, swimming, track and field¡ªhe dominated. His name was whispered with admiration in the hallways, his victories celebrated like legends. His physique was sculpted from years of training, his confidence unshakable. Every girl in school wanted his attention. His teammates idolized him. He thrived under the spotlight, pushing himself to be the best. But beyond the trophies, beyond the glory, there was only one person whose admiration truly mattered¡ªhis first love, his wife. She was his biggest supporter, always cheering from the sidelines, always believing in him. For Aron, those were the golden years. The years when he felt truly alive. Until it all fell apart. Betrayal One night, everything changed. His wife had forgotten to log out of a social media account on their shared computer. A single message thread caught his eye. His heart pounded as he read. Photos. Messages. The truth. His wife was having an affair. And the worst part? She was with a man he recognized. Not just anyone. Someone who had replaced him¡ªin more ways than one. Aron confronted her. Demanded answers. But she didn''t argue. Didn''t deny it. She simply stood there. Silent. Cold. Empty. That silence broke him more than any words could. A Fall from Glory Aron had once been a man of strength and discipline. At fifty years old, he still carried himself with authority, but he was no longer the athlete he once was. His body, once sculpted by years of training, had grown weak. Yet, he had built a prosperous life. He had wealth, power, and a family. Or so he thought. The day he walked into their bedroom and found his wife hanging from the ceiling, everything shattered. Her lifeless body. The silence of death. It crushed him. Broke him. And as if the gods themselves had cursed him, misfortune struck again. The company he had dedicated decades to laid him off¡ªreplaced by artificial intelligence. A man who once led others¡­ now considered obsolete.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. That night, he wandered the streets, his mind lost in grief and rage. The Drive That Changed Everything Rage burned in his veins. Betrayal. Heartbreak. Loss. He got into his car, his hands gripping the wheel like a vice. He had to see this man. Had to look him in the eye. Had to demand¡ªwhy? Memories of his past flooded his mind as he drove. His victories. His love. His wife''s laughter. The life he had built¡ªthe life that was stolen from him. His mind was so consumed, he never saw the truck coming. A blaring horn. A flash of light. CRASH. Aron''s body jerked violently, his vision spinning as metal crunched, glass shattered. Pain exploded in his chest. His breaths came in ragged gasps. Blood trickled down his forehead. His limbs were numb, heavy. He was fading. Then¡ª His phone rang. The screen lit up. 6 missed calls¡ªfrom his wife. With shaking fingers, he reached for it. He barely managed to press answer when¡ª A voice. But it wasn''t his wife. "Are you tired?" Aron''s heart stopped. Then¡ªdarkness. The Awakening When Aron''s eyes snapped open, he expected a hospital. He expected the sterile smell of disinfectant, the hum of machines. He expected to be in a prison of regret. Instead¡ª He was in another world. He had become the 325th champion. The Goddess of Chance Aron gasped for breath, his chest rising and falling in panic. His body ached from the accident, but he was alive. Where was his car? His wife? His life? The questions clawed at his mind, but no answers came. Staggering through the strange landscape, he tried to make sense of it all¡ª Then¡ª He collided with someone. A woman. Beautiful. Ethereal. Otherworldly. Her piercing gaze locked onto his, a smirk playing on her lips. Vaelora. Goddess of Chance. Aron took a step back. Something about her eyes¡­ felt familiar. Too familiar. Then, it struck him. She looked just like his first love. Thirty years ago. And Aron nodded. A Deal with Fate "You look lost, traveler," Vaelora purred, her voice a melody of amusement. She held up a single golden die, its surface shimmering in the light. "Would you like to play a game of fate?" Her smirk widened. "If it lands on six, I shall become your first wife." "And you shall become my tenth husband." Aron scoffed. A game? After everything he had lost? He wasn''t in the mood for foolish tricks. His hand shot out, swatting the die away. The die spun through the air. As it tumbled, his mind was flooded with memories. His wife''s smile. The way she used to hold his hand. His first love cheering for him in the stands. The weight of everything he had lost crashed down on him. He turned to leave. Then¡ª The die landed. Six. Vaelora''s laughter rang out, rich with amusement. "Interesting." She stepped closer, her gaze glinting with something unreadable. "Fate has spoken. As promised, I shall grant you a gift." A pulse of energy surged through Aron''s body. His muscles tensed. His blood burned. Strength flooded his limbs, more power than he had ever known. His old self¡ªthe champion¡ªwas back. No. Even greater. Stronger. Faster. Unstoppable. Vaelora smirked. "A body fit for a warrior, worthy of being my husband." "Consider it my blessing." Chapter 14: The King and the Champion Aron kept running, his breath steady, his strides effortless, but his mind was in turmoil. He felt weightless, powerful¡ªhis muscles responding with a strength he hadn''t known in decades. His body was fast, his stamina endless. Yet something gnawed at him. Is this me? He reached the riverbank and leaned over to look into the water''s surface. The reflection staring back was not the aging man he had come to accept. It was his younger self¡ªhis prime, his peak. His hands traced his jawline, his chest, his arms. Every detail was exactly as he remembered. Then a memory surged¡ªVaelora. Her words echoed in his mind. "I''ll grant you one wish¡­ if the dice lands on 1-5." His stomach twisted. He clenched his fists, whispering to himself, "I didn''t wish for this¡­ I wanted my wife, my family, my life back." For three days, he ran without stopping, his mind raging against the impossibility of it all. The guards hunted him relentlessly, but no matter how close they came, he was too fast, too strong. He evaded them, his body beyond human limits. But exhaustion didn''t settle in his muscles. It settled in his spirit. Running wasn''t answering his questions. It wasn''t bringing him home. It wasn''t changing anything. So, on the dawn of the fourth day, he stopped. He turned himself in. The guards seized him, wary yet triumphant, dragging him back without a fight. Aron didn''t resist. He was tired of running. He needed answers. They threw him into a cold, damp dungeon beneath the kingdom. The air stank of decay and only a flickering torch outside the iron bars provided light. As he adjusted to the darkness, a voice rasped from the shadows. Old King "So¡­ another one has fallen to their game." Aron turned sharply. In the corner of the cell sat a frail yet imposing figure¡ªthe old king, with eyes that held the weight of years past. The old king studied him for a moment before speaking. "Why are you here?" Aron exhaled sharply, his mind clouded with confusion. "Why am I here¡­ in this world? With this strength? This stamina?" The old king''s eyes narrowed. "Strength? Stamina?" He leaned forward slightly. "Have you encountered a goddess?" Aron frowned. "A goddess?" The old king chuckled dryly. "Not a goddess. A godly being¡ªone beyond gender, beyond mortal understanding." Aron''s breath caught. "A god? A lady?"Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. The old king shook his head. "No. It was Zeraphis." The name sent a chill down Aron''s spine. The old king leaned back against the stone wall. "Before me was my father, and before him, his father. My grandfather was nothing but a simple king¡ªthe lowest of the seven. He had one wish upon the stone tablet. That wish¡­ was what started everything." The old king''s gaze darkened. "I was the one who created the laws that govern this kingdom. The Five Immutable Laws." He took a deep breath before continuing: A King Cannot Be Killed ¨C No man, no army, no rebellion may strike down a reigning king unless the laws permit it.The Arena Must Always Have a Champion ¨C A cycle of bloodshed is the foundation of our rule, ensuring the gods'' satisfaction.A Victor''s Wish Must Be Granted ¨C Whatever the winner of the arena desires¡ªwealth, power, revenge¡ªthe king must fulfill it.A Former King Shall Never Return to the Throne ¨C Once dethroned, a king is forever cast aside, forbidden from ruling again.Every Five Years, One Law May Be Changed ¨C The king can alter only one law from the stone tablet every five years, but the first law can never be changed. The old king''s voice grew distant, lost in the past. "Before me, my father ruled simply, obeying the gods without question. But I¡­ I sought to make the throne untouchable, to ensure no king would suffer the fate of a fallen warrior. Yet, here I am. Just like the ones before me. Just like you will be." Aron narrowed his eyes. He wasn''t just another warrior thrown into a cycle of bloodshed¡ªhe had lived in a world of logic, strategy, and power beyond brute force. He had seen corporations manipulate laws, politicians twist justice, systems built to protect the elite. He leaned forward. "These laws¡­ they don''t protect the people. They protect the king. You ensured no rebellion could ever succeed. You forced warriors into an endless bloodbath for entertainment. And the wishes? What if someone wished to break the system?" The old king sighed, his expression unreadable. "They can''t. The first law is absolute. The gods demanded a game, and I made sure I would never be its pawn." Aron clenched his fists. "Then what happened to you? If you built a throne that couldn''t be taken, how did you end up here?" The old king chuckled bitterly. "I was outplayed. Not by warriors, not by champions¡ªbut by the very gods I sought to appease. And now, you are caught in the same game." His voice dropped to a low murmur, filled with something Aron couldn''t quite name. Regret? Fear? "I built a throne that could not be taken, a kingdom bound by laws even the gods respected. But when the final battle came, I wasn''t slain¡­ I was replaced. I fought for my right to rule, yet the gods remained silent. My opponent made a wish, and I was simply¡­ cast aside." Aron stiffened. "You''re saying the gods allowed a king to be overthrown¡ªwithout death?" The old king exhaled sharply. "Not just any king. Me. The architect of these very laws. And as I watched closely¡­ something was wrong. His presence, his very being¡ªit was beyond mortal." His fists clenched. "I''m not sure if it was truly a man¡­ or if it was Zeraphis itself, taking the throne in disguise." The sound of the dungeon door creaked open, its rusted hinges groaning. A shadow stretched across the floor, long and imposing. Aron tensed as the flickering torchlight revealed the towering figure at the entrance¡ªflanked by a hundred soldiers, their armor gleaming. Aron and the old king locked eyes as the figure stepped into the light. King Greg. Aron''s breath caught in his throat, and his vision blurred¡ªnot from fear, but disbelief. Greg¡­? The man now wearing the crown bore the same face as his wife''s former lover. The old king''s eyes widened. His voice, hoarse yet commanding, broke the silence. "You¡­ you''re not the true king on that throne." Greg''s smirk never faltered. "Put him back in his cell. Let the old king rot here." Aron''s thoughts spun. A god had stolen the throne? What did that mean for the other gods? Were they watching, or were they playing their own game? And most importantly¡ªwhat was his role in all of this? The old king let out a hollow laugh. "I see that look in your eyes. You think you''ll be different. So did I. And where did it bring me?" He gestured to the crumbling dungeon walls. "The gods do not bargain. They do not negotiate. They only play." Chapter 15: The Champion’s Wish And The 325 Battle Begin. The roar of the arena still echoed in Aron''s ears as he stood victorious, his body battered but unbroken. The bloodstained sand beneath him bore witness to his triumph, and now, as champion, he was granted a single wish. He could have wished for power, for wealth, for freedom. But only one thought consumed him¡ª Greg must suffer. Aron''s fists clenched, his body trembling¡ªnot from exhaustion, but rage. There was no way to take the throne; Greg had ensured that. The moment Aron won, Greg had manipulated the system, enforcing a new rule¡ªno king could be overthrown or killed. It was a coward''s move, yet it sealed Aron''s fate. Aron exhaled sharply, his lips curling into a bitter smirk. "Then I wish for Greg''s ten wives to be given to me." Gasps rippled through the temple. The gods bore witness. The wish could not be denied¡ªnot unless Greg himself intervened. A tense silence filled the chamber. Then, Greg stood from his throne, his eyes burning with fury. "Denied." His voice was sharp, final. The priests hesitated, unsure if even a king had the power to refuse a champion''s wish. Aron''s smirk deepened. "Afraid to lose, Greg?" Greg gritted his teeth, his knuckles white from clenching the armrest of his throne. "You won''t take my throne, and you won''t take everything from me." His voice dropped into a growl. "You can have five. No more." A flicker of amusement crossed Aron''s face. "So even you know what defeat tastes like." Greg''s glare could have burned through steel, but he could do nothing. The gods had spoken.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. The divine power wove reality into submission, stripping Greg of half his queens. His power chipped away piece by piece¡ªnot by war, not by rebellion, but by the very rules he had put in place. And then¡ª A presence heavier than the air itself settled over the temple. A deep, amused voice rang out, smooth yet chilling. The Gods Intervene "Ah¡­ entertaining as ever." The voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere, sending a shiver through the chamber. Zeraphis had returned. "The pieces are now set. The game has become stagnant, and so I have¡­ adjusted it." A cold chuckle. "Let''s begin again. The game is only fun when the pieces struggle against their fate." A low hum of divine power thrummed through the chamber as the air shifted. Then¡ªanother voice, silky and playful, joined in. Vaelora. "Hmph¡­ Let my new husband play. He still has a role to fulfill, and I''m rather curious to see how he fares this time." There was amusement in her tone, but beneath it lay something unreadable. Dangerous. Aron stiffened. He had won. And yet, it felt like he had already lost. The gods had begun their next game. And Aron was now at the center of it. The Present ¨C The Arena Resets The arena roared once more. Aron stood among the masked warriors, his identity hidden, his fate rewritten. The crowd screamed for blood. He was not alone¡ªtwenty survivors remained, each desperate for victory. Yet Aron felt no fear. No hesitation. His strength, stamina, and intelligence had made him the last arena champion, and now, he would win again. His gaze swept across the battlefield before locking onto Greg. Seated in the royal stands, surrounded by ten wives, Greg looked as untouchable as ever. A smirk played on Aron''s lips. Not this time. Among the masked contestants stood Ethan and Nile, their faces hidden just like his. None of them knew who their allies were¡ªor if they even had any. The arena fell into a tense silence. Then¡ª GONG! The resounding strike of the gong shook the very air. The crowd erupted, their thirst for violence unmatched. From his throne, Greg leaned forward, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. But as his gaze swept the arena, it briefly faltered. His jaw clenched. His fingers curled against the armrest of his throne. Among the onlookers, five familiar figures sat watching him in silence. His former wives. Now belonging to Aron. A flicker of hatred crossed his face. He masked it quickly beneath his usual arrogance¡ª But Aron had seen it. Greg was seething. Aron''s smirk widened. Present 326th Arena King Greg"Let the game begin."