The night before Liam made his decision, he couldn't sleep.
Not from guilt.
Not from fear.
But from a strange… stillness.
Like the air before a hurricane.
The system was quiet too.
Watching.
Waiting.
For him to choose.
Jason Reese – Loyalty: 39%
Stress Load: Critical
Mental Stability: Failing
Recommendation: Anchor Disposal / Data Extraction
Liam stared at the data.
Then at his burner phone.
Then at a silver coin on the table.
He flipped it.
Heads.
"Sorry, Jason."
The SetupHe sent the message at 8:03 p.m.
"Meet me at the Blue Line stop. Bring the drop. One last favor. Then you're done."
Jason responded in 15 seconds.
"I'll be there."
No hesitation.
No questions.
He still believed. Even now.
Even broken.
Even hunted.
Liam could feel it like a knife in his spine.
Anchor Deterioration: 31% → 28%
Emotion Contamination Risk: 9%
Override?
"Yes," Liam whispered. "Override."
The FallJason showed up early.
He stood by the tracks, eyes darting, clutching a brown paper bag that held $40,000 in dirty money.
His hands shook. He was sweating.
Liam stood across the platform, face hidden in shadows. Hood low. Gloved hands.
He didn't speak.
Just nodded.
Jason stepped onto the yellow line, walking toward him.
"Ghost, man… I know I messed up. I shouldn't have panicked. But I can fix it. I swear—"
Thread Trigger Activated
Inject Micro-Bias: Trip / Platform Fault / Accidental Fall
Probability Success Rate: 92.3%
Confirm Outcome?
Liam exhaled.
Quiet.
Then—"Confirm."
Jason's foot hit a small dip in the tile.
He stumbled forward.
The train horn screamed.
Too fast.
Too close.
Jason turned—eyes wide.
Mouth opening.
Not to scream.
To ask why.
Then the train hit him.
AftermathLiam walked away before the crowd gathered.
Before the screams echoed.
Before the MTA shut down the whole line.
Anchor Terminated: Jason Reese – Deceased
Loyalty Lock Preserved – Last Thoughts: Reverence / Confusion
System Reaction: Stable
Psychological Drift: +3 Coldness | -1 Humanity
New Passive Unlocked: "Clean Cut" – Reduce emotional instability from thread severance.
Liam didn't speak for the rest of the night.
Just stood at the top of his apartment building.
Watching the city choke on sirens and silence.
The InvitationThe next day, a black SUV pulled up outside his building.
No windows. No license plate.
No driver got out.
The back door opened.
Inside was a folder.
On it: a single symbol.
A chessboard.
Inside: a letter.
Handwritten. Sharp ink.
"You've made your first sacrifice. Now you're ready for the world stage."
— A.E.
Attached was a private jet ticket to Berlin.
Destination: The Meridian Conference.
The underground's most powerful, most hidden betting syndicate gathering.
Arman had opened the door.
But not as a friend.
As a challenge.
[New Objective: Infiltrate The Meridian Conference]
Secondary: Manipulate or dethrone a global fixer. Suggested target: Arman Erdem.
Caution: Power density will attract anti-system variables. Proceed with stealth.
Liam smiled — the kind of smile you give when a game starts that nobody else knows they've already lost.
Scene Change: Berlin ArrivalThe jet was empty.
No flight crew. No questions.
Just champagne, encrypted phones, and two men in suits who never blinked.
Liam didn't drink.
Didn't speak.
He just stared out the window as clouds drifted past like ghosts.
Upon arrival, another car. Another silent driver. A long stretch of empty forest road outside Berlin's city limits.
Then: a castle.
Modernized.
Fortified.
Surrounded by razor-wire fences, security drones, and armed guards who wore no emblems.
This wasn't gambling.
This was war with spreadsheets.
The Meridian ConferenceInside, Liam saw things he'd never imagined.
Three global betting cartel leaders laughed around a globe.
A woman from Macau projected live-rigged esports matches from hidden warehouses in Seoul.
A Colombian fixer discussed how drone swarms could interfere with horse racing sensors.
And Arman?
He stood at the center of it all.
Smiling like a man who had already counted all his enemies' bullets.
Then he saw Liam.
And his smile widened.
Their Second Dance"Welcome to the board, Ghost," Arman said, glass in hand. "Do you play chess?"
Liam nodded slowly.
"Only when the other player thinks he's winning."
The room quieted slightly.
Arman raised his glass.
"To the new age."
Everyone drank.
Liam didn't.
Instead, he whispered into his mind.
"System. Show me how many pieces are already mine."
Scanning Influence Threads…
Connected Entities Within Room: 3
Potential Anchor Targets: 7
Identified Rival Systems: 0
Warning: One Non-Probabilistic Entity Detected
"What?" Liam muttered.
Entity: Unknown. Behavior pattern does not conform to standard probability framework. Location: Near East Wall.
Liam turned slightly.
A man sat alone in the corner, reading a book upside down.
Eyes glowing faintly red.
Smiling.
Closing NoteThe deeper Liam fell into the world of betting manipulation, the more he realized…
He wasn't the only one breaking the rules.
But he might be the only one rewriting them.
And as the Joker's legend grew, so did the stakes.
This wasn't about money anymore.
This was about control.
Of chance.
Of people.
Of the world.