The moment Gideon pressed the chip against the table, a thunderous crack tore through the casino. The chandeliers above rattled violently, crystal fragments raining down like frozen tears. The carpeted floor heaved as though the building itself was breathing, groaning under the weight of something too vast, too ancient, to be contained.
The roulette wheels spun on their own, numbers flickering into strange symbols Gideon could not read. The slot machines howled like dying animals, their reels vomiting endless streams of black coins that dissolved into ash before hitting the ground. A wall split apart, revealing not brick or concrete, but a swirling abyss, a void that drank in the light around it.
The House was no longer a place. It was collapsing into what it truly was: a stage set over eternity's abyss.
Gideon staggered backward, clutching the chip. Its glow had grown erratic, like a heart beating too fast, like it was alive and terrified. He realized—this wasn't just a token. It was a prison. Every flash, every pulse was the scream of a soul trying to break free.
Then came the voice.
"You thought you could bend the House to your will?"
The Dealer stepped forward, though "stepped" was too human a word. His form fractured as the lights above flickered, body stretching impossibly tall, face splitting into dozens of faces that Gideon recognized. Faces of losers, faces of addicts, faces of desperate men and women who had once sat across this very table. Their mouths opened in silent wails, merging together into the Dealer's smile.
"I am the House. I am every wager, every surrender. And now—you will join the collection."
The ground beneath the main table cracked apart, the casino floor breaking into floating shards of marble. Gideon stood on one fragment, while the Dealer's monstrous shape loomed across the void. Beneath them was no foundation, no earth—only blackness swirling with sparks of lost lives, as if the abyss was paved with extinguished stars.
Gideon's pulse hammered in his ears. He clutched the chip tighter, its glow searing into his palm. "If you're the House," he spat, "then you're nothing without players. And I'm still at the table."
The Dealer's faces laughed in unison, a sound like glass shattering. "Then let us play. But not for scraps of memory. Not for futures. For everything. For the sum of eternity itself."
The table re-formed between them, impossibly balanced across the void. Cards, chips, dice, all rose into the air, whirling in a cyclone before slamming down upon its surface. The table pulsed once, and Gideon knew this was no longer just a game. This was judgment.
The Dealer extended a clawed hand, skeletal fingers gripping cards that shimmered with symbols Gideon could barely comprehend—glyphs of time, fragments of destinies yet unwritten.
Gideon's throat tightened. His own hand shook as he laid down the glowing chip, its light piercing through the abyss. At once, the void shifted. Voices surged from the darkness, whispering, pleading.
Set us free…
Don't let him keep us…
You carry our only hope…
Their words burned in Gideon's mind, drowning out fear. This wasn't just his gamble anymore. The chip carried every soul that had ever lost to the House, and they were all with him now.
The Dealer leaned forward, his many faces sneering. "Do you truly think you can outplay eternity, Gideon Locke? You, who came here broken, desperate, worthless? I have consumed kings and beggars alike. Your soul will not even be a footnote."
Gideon's lips curved into something that might have been a smile, though his heart pounded like a war drum. "Maybe. But you've never faced a man who's willing to bet more than himself."
The Dealer's eyes—or the countless eyes that stared from his form—narrowed. "Explain."
Gideon set the chip in the center of the table. Its light erupted, searing, blinding, cutting across the abyss like a blade. The whispers of the imprisoned souls swelled into a chorus. He spoke through clenched teeth, each word carved from the marrow of his will.
"I'm not betting my soul. I'm betting all of them. Every soul you've trapped. Every life you've stolen. If I lose, you keep them forever. If I win—they walk free."
The Dealer recoiled, his monstrous frame rippling. The fragments of faces writhed in agony, torn between laughter and screams. For the first time, Gideon saw hesitation.
"You dare…" the Dealer's voices hissed. "You dare wager eternity itself against me?"
The table trembled. The abyss roared, hungering.
Gideon leaned forward, eyes locked on the Dealer's monstrous visage. His voice was steady now, almost calm.
"Deal the cards."
And so it began—the final gamble, played not for money, nor memory, nor future, but for the weight of forever.