Throughout the four years I spent in Orario, what do you think I poured my heart and soul into perfecting?
Leveling up? No, not that.
Winning people over? Wrong again.
Exploring the Dungeon? Never.
The craft I dedicated my absolute focus to was ── the art of masterful deception.
This goes beyond mere lying. My fundamental principle for breaking others and plunging them into despair is ensuring no one ever glimpses my true intentions or the inner workings of my mind.
Now, according to the world's rules, one cannot lie to the gods. They possess an innate ability to see through mortal falsehoods in the Lower World.
However, a god's "Truth-Discernment" isn't actually that much of a threat. Countless ways exist to make a person misinterpret reality and reach a completely false conclusion without uttering a single lie. You simply use the raw facts to mislead them.
On the contrary, their overconfidence in that divine ability makes them easier to trap. As long as you don't speak an explicit lie, they fall for the deception every time.
If I absolutely must lie, I can always mask it by using a third party to convey the information indirectly.
But such primitive methods only work on naive gods. They wouldn't stand a chance against someone as sharp as Loki or someone with Hestia's uncanny intuition.
These divine beings, even when appearing frivolous or indifferent, remain transcendent entities that were once omniscient and omnipotent. They perceive the world through a lens entirely different from ours.
They have lived for tens of thousands of years; their cumulative experience is beyond description.
Yet, to achieve my goals, I had to learn to deceive even those gods.
Through my dealings with high-ranking deities—Zeus chief among them—I learned that outsmarting an opponent doesn't necessarily require words.
The secret lies in observing the opponent with absolute precision, standing in their shoes, and using insight to predict their thoughts. Only then do you make a decisive move. That is what matters most.
In other words, you must always maintain a specific distance so the enemy never grasps your true intent.
Humans and gods alike share a strange nature: you don't need to state anything clearly. It is enough to create an "aura" or an "impression," and they will automatically fill in the blanks with what you want them to believe.
A confident posture, movements that nudge their thoughts down a certain path, facial expressions, tone of voice, and calculated gestures—by mastering these tools, I gained a skill that allows me to deceive even the gods themselves.
The methods of misdirection I forged using my talents and experience are my strongest technique—a finishing blow that no one else in this world possesses.
To me, this deception is a far greater weapon than a skill like (Ref-Yggdrasil).
In short ── you couldn't beat me with trickery in a million years, you bastard!!
I looked down at the cards the dealer had dealt, even though I didn't fully understand what they meant.
●○●○●
The complicit Terry, the dealer, and the other guests exchanged fleeting glances, trying to gauge who held the strongest hand.
"Boy, bring me a bottle of fifteen-year-old aged Sisla wine."
After a short while, Terry called for a servant to order a drink. This, of course, was a prearranged secret code.
Ordering a 15-year-old Sisla wine meant his hand contained a "Flush" ── five cards of the same suit.
The guests, who knew the code, continued their act of maneuvering and bluffing. Everyone except Al shared the knowledge of what everyone else held.
They relished the thought of teaching this ignorant young man a lesson he would never forget.
In stark contrast, Al sat alone and composed. He looked at his dealt cards, then turned his gaze toward Terry.
(That massive confidence he's showing... he's definitely cheating.)
Terry expected Al to resort to deception eventually, especially since Al had declared an "all-in" bet before even looking at his cards.
Noticing Terry's intense stare, Al wore a confident smile.
(You foolish brat...!!)
Cheating normally never succeeded here at the Grand Casino. It was nearly impossible to pull off a trick under the eyes of top-tier professional dealers.
Furthermore, bodyguards surrounded the area, monitoring every movement to ensure no blind spots existed.
Even if Al possessed incredible sleight of hand, he wasn't in a position to use it.
Cheating only works if you are in league with other players or the dealer, as Terry was now.
Naturally, Al, who had just entered the establishment, had no allies here. Attempting to cheat alone under the vigilant eyes of the dealers and guards would be suicide.
"It seems the showdown is down to just you and me... what do you intend to do?"
"No problem."
"Heh, you seem very sure of yourself. In that case, I'll raise the stakes too."
As Terry thought this, the other guests withdrew from the game after completing their fake bidding act.
Now Terry began to pressure Al. If Al lost here, it would be his end. If he tried to cheat, he would certainly be caught.
Terry mocked Al internally for pushing himself into this dead end. He stacked additional betting chips onto the pile and announced his bet.
He hinted that Al could still withdraw, but Al remained perfectly calm.
A moment of confusion struck Terry. Does he really think he can win? He quickly dismissed the thought as mere stupidity and posturing, regaining his composure.
He then flashed a sneering smile at the young man, wondering if he was simply a fool or an idiot.
"By the way, I haven't yet stated what I want when I win."
"When I claim victory, I'll ask you to lend me your companions for a while... that lady beside you and the guard as well."
Terry directed a gaze stained with lust toward the terrified Cassandra and toward Bache, whose forehead veins were beginning to bulge from silent rage.
Despite Terry's foul request, Al's expression didn't flicker.
Terry took this as false bravado, and his malicious grin widened.
"You are lucky to be surrounded by these two beauties, and I very much wish to have my share of that luck. Don't worry, I only want them to accompany me for a late-night party."
Terry scrutinized Cassandra and Bache with lecherous eyes. Bache almost lost her grip on her "disguise," but Terry didn't notice, lost in his own vulgar laughter.
"The arrogant, those blinded by greed, and those driven by a sense of justice like you... I have made prey of them all."
Terry mocked the young man as if declaring victory in advance. Yet, Al continued to look at him, the smile never leaving his face.
At that moment, the cards were revealed. Of course, Terry's hand was a Flush—five cards of the same suit.
But Al's hand was ──
10, J, Q, K, A.
"A Royal Flush... isn't it?"
"── Huh?"
And it continued like this. His card draws followed one after another like a divine miracle, causing the faces of Bell and Cassandra, who were watching from behind, to twitch in shock.
Even Bache, who didn't know the rules well, felt confused, while Al continued to play with icy indifference.
The shock felt by Terry and his associates was incomparable. No matter how closely they watched Al, they saw no sign of cheating. It was impossible for him to know their secret codes, so he couldn't have known their hands in advance.
Yet, their cards came up worthless every single time.
The first round was the only time luck had favored them. After that, they could barely manage to form a pair.
Even if Al were practicing a deception so masterful it couldn't be detected, what was happening defied logic.
Terry and his associates were certain Al was cheating, but it was mere guesswork; they had no tangible proof.
They wondered if the dealer was manipulating the cards in Al's favor, but the dealer himself looked disturbed and terrified by what was unfolding.
Beyond the uncanny luck of the draw, Al's maneuvers were brilliant. Whether the opponent withdrew or stayed, Al tightened the noose slowly, like someone strangling a victim with a silk cord, until they found themselves forced to gamble on incredibly weak cards.
Terry does not know that the man before him is Al Cranel.
Terry does not know that Al has never lost a bet, even when his opponent was Freya, Hermes, or even his own goddess, Loki.
── Terry does not know that the world itself loves Al Cranel.
The probability of getting a Royal Flush is 0.00015%, roughly once every 650,000 hands. It never occurred to Terry that someone could get it repeatedly.
By any normal logic, such an occurrence in a real gamble is impossible—astronomical.
── There are several reasons why Al is "invincible" in betting.
The first is the Development Ability: Luck. As the name suggests, it raises the user's fortune. In the Dungeon, it increases the drop rate of rare items; in combat, it tips the scales in his favor.
In betting, it constantly attracts "Victory." It is impossible for him to lose any game based on probability—especially since his rank in this ability is (D). For comparison, the highest rank Finn, the captain of the Loki Familia, holds in his development abilities is (E).
The second reason is also a development ability: Intuition. Its effect enhances the ability to sense danger, representing a sixth sense that nears precognition. Its effect is somewhat similar to Cassandra's prophetic dreams.
While it doesn't provide a deep "vision" like Cassandra's dreams, it is always active and highly versatile. Thanks to it, all of Terry and his associates' attempts at deception or hiding their emotions become utterly worthless.
The third reason is the effect of the skill: Gift of Heaven and Calamity. This accelerates the mastery of any skill and draws out maximum latent potential, extending even to gambling skills.
Added to all this is the presence of Bell in the same room, who also possesses the Luck ability just like Al.
In truth, Al isn't practicing any kind of cheating; he is simply winning because of his supernatural luck. But Terry and his associates couldn't understand that, so they were overcome with terror at a "cheat" they couldn't see.
Of course, if Al wanted to, he could have cheated using his divine speed as the "Fastest in the City" without anyone noticing, but he had no intention of doing so.
As soon as a confrontation depends on "Probability," Al's chance of losing drops to zero.
── Yes, from the moment Terry decided to challenge him, he had already lost.
"Well, another Royal Flush."
With this hand—the fourth of its kind this round—the victory was sealed.
●○●○●
A painful silence filled the VIP room. It seemed Terry and his associates couldn't process the reality before them, remaining frozen in their seats with shock.
While Terry and his men trembled with fear, Al sat with a calm expression before a mountain of platinum betting chips.
The number of white coins stacked on the round table clearly exceeded a thousand. Because of this overwhelming victory by Al, Bell, Cassandra, and even Bache lost the ability to speak.
"───────!!"
Terry tried his best to stifle the sound of his teeth grinding in rage. He clenched his fists under the table, his fury evident, but since he still possessed a shred of rationality, he didn't attack Al.
The prerequisite was that the loser would grant the winner's wish. Retracting that now would be like washing shame with more shame; yet, anger boiled in his chest like a cauldron.
Having to give up the women was nothing short of a massive insult to Terry. As for Anna, whose beautiful features had been drowned in dark despair just a moment ago, hints of joy began to appear despite her lack of full understanding.
This sight fueled Terry's rage even more. While trying to suppress feelings of shame, envy, hatred, and murderous intent, he spat out his response.
"Fine... I will give her some time off. Come to think of it, she must be tired since she just arrived from a foreign land."
Terry spoke while trying to feign composure, though internally he was cursing the situation as he watched Anna rush toward Al.
Upon hearing Terry's words, a wide grin spread across Al's face, as if he could see exactly what was going through Terry's mind. This attitude was incredibly grating to Terry, but he struggled to respond coldly.
Despite his regret over giving her up before he could "taste" her, there was no other way.
"Does this satisfy you, Lord Helios?"
Terry asked while screaming silent oaths of vengeance, vowing that this wouldn't be the end as he watched Anna go to Al.
"No, not yet."
Al said coldly. A vein of anger throbbed in Terry's forehead. Terry tried to rein in his exploding emotions and urged him to finish what he had to say.
"..... What is it? Wasn't getting (Anna) alone enough for you?"
It was true the prior agreement didn't specify Anna alone, but he couldn't accept more demands.
"How greedy... how many of those I love must I lose?"
"Oh no, that's not what I meant... rather, the next game, the next game."
As Al dismantled the mountain of betting chips with his hands, Terry was stunned once more, momentarily failing to grasp what Al was talking about.
"I mean, the second round... well, next time I want you to hand her over to me."
Al's gaze was fixed on a beautiful Elf who was staring with wide, hollow eyes.
"... You bastard!"
Terry shook with rage, his face flushed with blood, wondering how far this man intended to insult him.
Driven by his resentment, Terry rose from his seat, revealing his true nature, his eyes burning with fury.
"Don't get ahead of yourself, boy....."
Terry spoke in a thick voice filled with the rage he could no longer hide. His face shifted into something resembling a demon.
Faced with this threat, Al showed no confusion. Instead, he seemed to be enjoying the reaction, letting out a cold sigh.
"What exactly are you misunderstanding? And who do you think you are? Just because you won a trivial gamble once!!"
"Do you think you'll stay alive after making an enemy of me?! Do you think the Guild will protect you?─"
"Enough talk. I said the next round." ── Al cut him off coldly.
"..... It seems you desperately wish to taste pain."
Terry released a gaze radiating murderous intent, but Al showed no fear. On the contrary, he looked at Terry with contempt and mocked him.
Terry felt he could no longer let him live and signaled to his bodyguards. Immediately, the men who had received his orders began to move.
Tension filled the room, now thick with the scent of death. The dealer and the guests scrambled away from Al.
"──!!"
Bell and Cassandra took up combat stances with the skill of high-level adventurers despite being unarmed against the guards surrounding them with lethal intent.
The guards were hired with vast sums of money. Though as individuals they didn't reach the level of Bell and Cassandra, some among them appeared to have achieved a Level Up, so they couldn't be underestimated.
Of course, for Bell, who had fought a major battle against the high-level adventurers of the Apollo Familia, these men weren't a significant threat, but ──
"O (Wolf Rabbit), do not interfere.. I can easily crush your small, weak Familia with my power, so─....."
As Terry tried to threaten Bell, who had taken a combat stance, he was stunned the next moment to see his guards collapsing to their knees one by one.
"What?"
"I know you aren't the real Terry Cervantes. I could hand you over to the Guild with all your past crimes, but I don't want the headache. More importantly, we are in a casino, and gambling is the proper path here... Now, let's move to the next round."
Terry's—or rather, Tid's—face changed color at those words. Could he possibly know my true identity? Tid thought. He moved quickly and recklessly, playing his final trump card.
"Faust!! Lulu!! Kill him!!"
The two men who had been standing stoically behind Terry until this moment moved. One was a Catman with a lean, lithe body; the other was a massive, muscular human.
Following his orders, both drew their weapons and lunged at Al with movements suggesting they possessed strength equivalent to Level 2 adventurers.
They were strong opponents who might cause trouble even for (Bell) in a two-on-one fight. However, the moment they neared Al, they collapsed to their knees and lost consciousness.
"Gasp.. wha—what are you, really?!!"
".... Anyway, next round."
──────────────────────────────────────────────────
Note: It seems Luck = Difficulty of Dying.
Al's Weapon Profile Corner
[Destruction of Branches]
A First-Class Special Weapon. A Cursed Weapon. Its attack power increases massively in exchange for receiving injuries (burns). It does not require a (Lobtur). A weapon easy to use for self-harm.
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