In Flex City, the poker tables aren't merely wood and cards—they are the veins through which recognition pulses, flowing like neon rivers in the hearts of those who dare to play. Here, cards are not symbols; they are blueprints of reality itself, the whispered rules of the world given shape.
Aces of Spades, Hearts, Diamonds, Clubs… Lions, Trees… each a seed, a blueprint, a potential waiting to be realized. Alone, they are simple—bare, like raw clay. But with attachments, oh… attachments make them sing. Logic chains the hands of players to rules, forcing obedience; Backstab twists loyalty into chaos; Doubling magnifies ambition; Reverse sends fate tumbling back upon the unprepared; Repeat offers second chances, a shimmering echo of past errors made new.
And then… there is Fate. The Tree of Fate, the Ace of Fate, the time-bending inevitability itself. Where attachments bend reality, Fate decides it. Cause meets effect, and effect whispers back, shaping outcomes in silent inevitability. Fate is the storm, the undercurrent, the secret the city itself fears and reveres.
The chips are not mere chips—they are recognition made tangible. Each glimmering token carries the weight of eyes, hearts, and minds watching. Win, and recognition flows through you like fire in your veins; lose, and it evaporates, leaving only the taste of ambition and the ache of potential wasted.
And so the cards are played, not merely with hands, but with conviction. Ace of Doubling against the Tree of Fate. Club of Reverse echoing through the Lion of Triumph. Each play, a statement, a challenge, a song sung in the neon-lit streets of Flex City.
Here, in Omega Devia, the game is not about luck—it is about truth. About understanding yourself, bending contradiction into mastery, and claiming recognition not just from others, but from the city itself. For to play poker in Flex City is to dance with fate, to flirt with chaos, and to see yourself reflected in every move… every card… every stolen breath of the game.
The suits are the blueprints, but it has value, Clubs are the weakest, followed by Spades, the Ace, hearts, diamonds, lions trees...
And then the attachments..
Reverse, turns opponents effects back to them, doubling, multiplies value, Second chance, gives you a chance to restart, Backstab, allows to cheat, Logic, shuts down everything and gives rules..., Repeat replay the same card..
The rare ones...
Fate, ensures absolute dominance, time, can pause, skip or reverse time, cause and effect, takes control over consequences, Glory, gives you social leverage over the game...
The suits ensure value, a weak suit like the club can't surpass a diamond even if its attachment is fate itself...
And with that the game continues...
Kranor's fingers hovered over the cards, a tremor of uncertainty betraying the calm façade he wore for the others. The neon lights of the casino danced across the polished surfaces, refracting into a thousand sparks that mirrored the chaos swirling in his mind.
"Here we go," Kranor muttered under his breath, voice low, almost drowned by the hum of recognition coursing through the room. His aura pressed subtly against the edges of space, heavy enough to pull attention but carefully restrained—he couldn't risk drawing the wrong kind of eyes.
The dealers smirked, sensing the tension. One of them, a lean figure with sharp, almost predatory eyes, placed a Lion of Doubling on the table.
Kranor's gaze sharpened. He understood immediately: this wasn't just a card—it was a challenge. A trap, wrapped in a test of will. Without hesitation, he placed an Ace of Reverse.
"Reverse…" he murmured, almost to himself. "If I play this right, I can twist the outcome back on them… but if I miscalculate—"
"—we lose Lunio," Jero whispered, voice tight, peeking from behind his trembling hands. His aura trembled like a storm-light candle, fear sharpening his perception.
Marneth leaned in, cold and precise. "Kranor. Don't overthink it. I've analyzed their movements. They're predictable—they want chaos. I've calculated the likelihood of violence if you hesitate. I'll cover your flank."
Kranor gave a tight nod. "Thanks… I… I won't let them touch anyone."
The dealers, now leaning in, laid down a Club of Repeat. The card glimmered with a subtle echo of past moves—whatever action Kranor had just performed could be mirrored, doubled, or manipulated against him.
He flinched. For a fraction of a second, he considered letting it pass, letting fate unfold—but then Lunio's panicked voice cut through:
"Kranor, I… I'm not doubting you! But… in the name of all that's good, please win… please!"
Kranor's jaw clenched. Every fiber of his being screamed at him: this wasn't just a game of cards. This was Lunio's life, his friends' safety, his own recognition hanging in the balance. The neon glow of the table reflected in his eyes, turning them molten with intent.
"Second Chance," he muttered, releasing the attachment onto his Ace. A shimmering echo of possibility filled the air, a ghost of the play that could have failed—but now could bend the rules in his favor.
Jero's hands tightened around the edge of the table. "He's… really doing it. He's actually taking responsibility."
Gullia's fingers twitched, summoning the faintest shimmer of a trauma-forged weapon above her palm, ready to defend if chaos erupted. "Just… don't screw it up," she muttered, eyes narrowing.
Ulok's locks floated and shimmered, his hands hovering above the gates of his mind-space. "If it comes to intervention, I'll seal their attacks… but Kranor has to—has to push first."
Nicia's black goo formed a subtle, pulsating shadow around her hands. Every movement was restrained, every tendril ready to lash if the game collapsed.
Meilo's mirrors shimmered in the air. "I've got their angles covered. Reflection is one thing Kranor can trust me for."
The room seemed to hold its breath. The dealers' smirks remained, but the subtle confidence in their eyes was starting to crack—Kranor's aura was solid, unflinching in a way that suggested something beyond sheer bravado.
Kranor exhaled, leaning forward slightly. "Let's see how Omega Devia deals with… contradictions," he said, placing the Ace with a quiet finality.
The table pulsed. Fate hovered, sensing the tension. The Club of Repeat glimmered, ready to strike—but Kranor's Second Chance shimmered brighter, bending the effect subtly, twisting it just enough to keep the balance in his favor.
"Come on… come on…" he muttered under his breath. "Not just for me… for them… for Lunio."
Jero's breathing quickened, but he forced himself to stay still, eyes wide. "He's… he's not just playing… he's commanding the game itself."
"Yeah," Marneth said, his hand resting on Kranor's shoulder. "Commanding and surviving. Remember that, everyone."
Lunio's pale face brightened slightly as he realized what Kranor had done—manipulating the flow without losing his hold on control. Relief and fear twisted together in a strange, electric cocktail.
The dealers hesitated. Their attachments, their Repeats, their Doubles… Kranor's aura, infused with his conviction and Second Chance, pushed back. The tension was palpable, almost physical, as if the air itself had thickened with uncertainty.
Gullia, Nicia, Ulok, Meilo, Marneth, and Jero—all of them—held their positions, waiting for the storm to break, their abilities poised but restrained. They understood one truth: whatever happened next rested entirely on Kranor's shoulders.
And Kranor? His smirk returned, subtle and dangerous. "Whether we win or lose… I won't let anyone here lose to them," he whispered, almost to himself. "And Lunio… don't think you're getting off easy after this."
The dealers leaned in, sensing the shift. Fate hovered closer, as if intrigued by this mortal audacity. And the cards, the neon lights, the tension, the aura, everything in Flex City's casino seemed to conspire together, waiting for the next play, the next flicker of will that would decide the future of more than just the game.
Kranor's hands trembled—not from fear, but from the weight of responsibility. And with that tremor, he made his next move… a declaration, a command, a message that in Omega Devia, conviction could bend cards, reality, and even Fate itself.
The table had shrunk into a battlefield. Three cards lay before Kranor—two solid, one uncertain, shimmering like a half-written prophecy. His fingers hovered above them, his pulse heavy in his throat.
He whispered to himself, low, measured:
"If they have Logic, that'll chain me. Doubling won't matter. Reverse… Repeat… nah. But Lions or Trees… default blueprints—they'd only make their play stronger."
He swallowed hard. The weight of recognition currency shimmered like fireflies in the air, but his eyes burned with something deeper than greed—resolve.
Kranor's thought clawed at him: This is it. My moment. I have to prove them wrong, prove myself right. I…
Before he could finish the thought, one of the dealers leaned forward, grin sharp as glass.
"What's the matter? Out of solid cards already? Hm? Let me guess—" his fingers tapped the table, slow, mocking—"The Ace of Glory? Or the Tree of Fate? Oh, not Fate… Fate is dangerous."
The second dealer chuckled, eyes gleaming. "Nah. Look at his face. There's no way he's got Fate in his hand. Heh… heh… hehehe."
Around Kranor, his crew tensed as if pulled by invisible strings.
Ulok's locks spun in the air, gates shimmering like mirrors of doom.
Nicia's goo writhed, pulsing black tendrils coiling around her fingers.
Marneth traced a spatial sign into the air, his voice low, calm but sharp as glass: "Ready."
Jero's fear chains slithered along the ground, rattling, almost alive.
Meilo's mirrors drew forth phantom blades, angles of light bent into steel.
Gullia's trauma-laced aura hummed at her fingertips, a half-formed weapon aching to be released.
And Lunio—Lunio bit down on his teeth so hard he thought they'd crack. His eyes never left Kranor.
It all came down to this.
Kranor tilted his head, a smirk cutting across his face. He let silence linger like poison before he spoke.
"You know what makes Fate more dangerous?"
The dealers froze, their smirks dying as unease flickered in their eyes. The neon of the casino dimmed, shadows shifting, as if the City itself leaned closer to hear.
Nicia muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes. "Here we go…"
Kranor's voice cut sharper than a blade. "Fate comes when you least expect it. But deep down…" He raised his card with slow, deliberate grace. "…you know it's coming anyway."
The reveal was thunder.
BOOM!
Two cards slammed down on the table—twin Trees of Fate. Their roots coiled across the surface like living veins, branches stretching upward, bursting into neon green light. The entire hall pulsed as if swallowed in a storm of inevitability.
Recognition flared like fire, flowing into Kranor, burning his aura brighter, heavier. The dealers' confidence shattered in an instant.
Lunio's jaw dropped. "That's it! Kranor has won!" His voice cracked, breaking into manic relief. "Yes! He's done it!"
The crew exhaled, some in awe, some in disbelief.
Kranor's smirk deepened, his aura flooding the table with weight. "Who's laughing now?"
The dealers shot to their feet, cards scattering like shards of glass. Their black cloaks fell away, revealing lean, twisted bodies laced with veins of glowing ink—symbols of Omega Devia etched into their flesh.
Their voices merged in a snarl. "No… this is an outrage!"
The recognition chips rattled across the table as if quivering in fear.
Kranor stood, chair scraping back. His hand tightened on the hilt of his blade as it hissed free of its sheath, neon fire glinting along the edge. His aura crackled, pressing against the room with suffocating weight.
He raised his sword, eyes locked on the dealers. "Bring it on. If you want to play sore losers…" His smirk widened, teeth gleaming. "…then so be it."
The crew snapped into formation, powers humming at the edge of release.
The dealers roared, energy swelling around them like a storm.
And Flex City held its breath.
Kranor smirks, then he muttered: Do you know who you think you're talking to....
The dealers exchanged glances, Kranor's crew chuckled with certainty...
Kranor (firmly): That's right....you don't know do you( lifts his sword) well, let me show you who you're dealing with...