The coin never fell.
It hung midair — spinning so fast that the light around it fractured into numbers.
Probability itself trembled.
The Auditor grinned. "Interesting. You're resisting collapse."
Rex flexed his fingers. "I don't collapse easily. Ask my GPA."
The void around them shifted — transforming into a massive, floating arena made of betting tables. Cards rained from the dark like snowflakes, each one bearing glowing equations.
[Probability Index Engaged.]
[Battle Mode: House Audit.]
[Rule One – Every action modifies the odds.]
[Rule Two – The odds hate you.]
"Comforting," Rex muttered.
The Auditor flicked his wrist — a flurry of golden dice formed around him, orbiting like tiny suns. "Let's begin your evaluation."
He snapped.
The dice rolled, scattering across invisible ground. Each one exploded into motion — reshaping into beasts made of numbers, probability hounds with shifting forms and glitching teeth.
Rex dodged the first, barely avoiding a bite that tore through reality like a tear in silk.
Lia shouted from the edge of the void, voice echoing through the distortion.
"Don't fight the odds, Rex! Play them!"
"Right," Rex said, sliding beneath a lunging beast. "How do you play math?"
"Gamble back!"
He grinned. "Now that's advice I can work with."
Rex snapped his fingers — the faint shimmer of cards appeared in his palm, glowing crimson and silver. His Fate Deck.
The Dealer's laughter echoed faintly.
"Let's see how our Wildcard handles the table…"
He drew one card.
The surface pulsed — The Fool.
Lia gasped. "That's a zero-probability card!"
"Perfect," Rex said, throwing it.
The card exploded midair, unleashing a burst of static energy that devoured three beasts at once. The void cracked, the odds bending backward.
[Probability Index Shift: +14% Chaos Bias.]
[Warning: Unstable Variable Detected.]
The Auditor blinked. "You're… influencing base math?"
Rex grinned. "Nah. Just bluffing the universe."
The Auditor scowled. "You think this is a game?"
"Buddy, everything's a game. You just haven't learned to enjoy losing."
The man raised his hand — and the entire arena folded in on itself.
Dozens of giant roulette wheels appeared around them, spinning with apocalyptic force.
"Then gamble this!" the Auditor shouted. "I bet your existence!"
Rex laughed, eyes glowing brighter. "Deal."
The world tilted. Numbers collapsed. Every possibility narrowed to one outcome — one roll, one spin, one heartbeat.
And in that suspended instant, Rex whispered under his breath:
"House rule, remember? I don't lose where the odds break."
He flicked his wrist — a single glowing card soared into the center of the storm.
The Wildcard.
It detonated, rewriting the spin's outcome before it landed. The entire arena shattered like glass.
[Audit Result: FAILED.]
[Conclusion: Subject exceeds mathematical parameters.]
[Outcome: House Instability Increased to 27%.]
[Recognition +25.]
The Auditor dropped to one knee, his form flickering between dimensions. "You… you shouldn't exist."
Rex grinned, walking past him. "That's what makes me profitable."
Lia appeared beside him as the void dissolved, pulling him back into the glowing halls of the House.
Her voice trembled. "You broke the audit. No one breaks an audit."
He smirked. "Guess I'm bad for business."
Somewhere above them, the Dealer's voice purred with delighted menace.
"Oh, Rex… You're not bad for business. You are the business now."
And from the shadowed balconies above, unseen figures watched — cosmic gamblers, ancient systems, and sleeping gods — as the odds of the universe began to tilt toward one impossible name:
The Wildcard.