Rex's first thought was that heaven smelled like cheap whiskey.
His second thought was that heaven had slot machines.
He blinked. Neon lights flickered across an endless marble floor, stretching beyond sight. Tables hovered in midair, glowing with otherworldly runes. Every card flip sent sparks through the void, every dice roll echoed like thunder.
He wasn't in heaven.
He was in a casino.
"Welcome, player," said a voice that sounded like silk dipped in sarcasm.
Rex spun around. No one was there—until a deck of floating cards assembled themselves into a humanoid silhouette. A glowing grin appeared between them.
"Wh—what the hell are you?" Rex asked.
"I," the voice said dramatically, "am your dealer."
The cards shuffled into the shape of a tuxedoed man with no face, only that ever-present grin. "And congratulations, by the way. You've just died."
Rex stared at him. "...You're joking."
"Unfortunately for you, humor isn't a resurrection spell."
The Dealer spread his arms. "Your heart stopped at precisely 2:47 A.M., courtesy of a poorly timed lightning strike and your equally poor life choices."
Rex blinked again. "You're saying I got isekaied by weather?"
"Technically, by your own stupidity. You did decide to argue with a street preacher in the rain while holding a metal umbrella."
Rex groaned. "So what is this? Hell? Limbo?"
"Neither," the Dealer said. "This is the House of Odds. Every soul that thinks they deserve a second chance ends up here. A few bet for redemption. Most lose everything."
He snapped his fingers, and a translucent screen appeared before Rex.
[Welcome to the Divine Gambit System.]
Fate is the only currency.
Your life is your wager.
Rex squinted. "A system window? Like in a game?"
"Cosmic entertainment for bored gods, mostly," the Dealer said, leaning lazily against a floating roulette table. "You gamble with Fate. Win, and you gain power. Lose, and—"
"—you lose your soul?"
"Please. Souls are overrated. You'll lose something far more interesting."
Rex's stomach twisted. "And if I refuse?"
"Then you fade. No respawn, no afterlife. Just... fold."
The Dealer clapped once, and a stack of golden chips appeared on the table. Each shimmered with faint memories — laughter, pain, love.
"Those are your Fate Points. The more you risk, the higher the reward. Simple math."
Rex stared at the chips. "And I get to bet with these?"
"Technically, you are the bet."
"...I hate this already."
"Good. Hatred breeds survival." The Dealer's grin widened. "Now, Rex, shall we deal you in?"
The screen pulsed again.
[Tutorial Gamble: Wager your existence for a second chance.]
Reward: Entry into the House of Odds.
Penalty for failure: Permanent erasure.
Rex exhaled slowly. He looked at the chips, then at the Dealer's grin.
He had nothing left to lose.
"…Deal."
The Dealer's grin sharpened, almost predatory. "Excellent. Then let the first hand of eternity begin."
A deck of cards erupted in golden fire. Reality bent around the table. Stars blinked. Somewhere, unseen gods leaned closer to watch.
And as Rex placed his first wager in the universe's oldest game, a single phrase etched itself into his mind—
Fate is rigged.
______
The table exploded in light. Cards turned to stars. The cosmos folded like a curtain being drawn shut—
—and then it was over.
Silence.
The Dealer stood alone amid the fading sparks, one hand lazily spinning a single golden chip between his fingers. The grin on his featureless face didn't fade; if anything, it deepened.
"Hmm," he murmured. "A mortal who didn't fold."
He tossed the chip into the air. It vanished, leaving ripples in the void.
"Welcome to the table, Rex."
The Dealer's tone softened to something almost fond. "Let's see how long you can keep your luck before the House decides to collect."
He snapped his fingers. The lights dimmed. The next game began somewhere in another universe.
And far below the cosmic casino, a new world stirred — one that had just gained a player destined to break it.
[Player 001 – Rex – Survived the Initial Gamble.]
Status: Active Participant.
Destination: Mortal World #742 – Earth-Variant Delta.
The Dealer chuckled to himself. "Let the games begin."