I chose Luck and was given Infinite Luck

When the House Folds

1. The Echo of a Game Won

The Astral Nexus was silent. The Celestial Council had departed, leaving behind only the lingering tension of a gamble that had rewritten fate itself. Tom still stood where he had spun the Wheel, his pulse slowing to a steady rhythm, his mind finally catching up to what had just happened.

He had drawn against fate. Not a victory, not a loss—a reset.

Orion let out a low whistle, arms crossed. "Well, kid, I think that's the first time in eternity someone forced the Loom into a draw. You really do love breaking things."

Tom exhaled, the Roulette Wheel vanishing beneath his skin once more. "Not breaking," he corrected. "Just… adjusting."

Diane was still frozen in place, her eyes locked onto him with something unreadable—shock, fear, maybe even pride. She had seen him gamble before, had seen him throw himself into impossible odds. But this time, he hadn't relied on blind luck.

This time, he had controlled the bet.

"Tom," she started, voice careful. "Do you understand what you just did?"

Tom turned to her, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the weight of the universe. "Yeah," he said simply. "I made them realize they couldn't win."

Diane clenched her jaw. "And you think they'll just accept that?"

Orion chuckled. "They don't have much of a choice, Di. The kid played by their rules and didn't lose. Which means they have to honor the result, unless they want to admit their own system's flawed."

Diane's lips pressed into a thin line. "It is flawed, Orion. It always was."

Orion shrugged. "Sure. But they don't like admitting it. And now?" He grinned at Tom. "Now, they can't ignore him."

Tom felt it—the weight of eyes unseen, the presence of something vast and ancient watching from the edges of reality. The Loom was still adjusting, still trying to comprehend the paradox he had thrown into its weave. But the Council had backed off.

For now.

Which meant Stacy was safe.

For now.

Tom exhaled, raking a hand through his hair. "I need to find her."

Imma, who had been eerily quiet until now, finally spoke. "I can track her location," she said, flickering slightly as she re-stabilized her systems. "But…"

Tom frowned. "But what?"

Imma hesitated. "Something is off. The probabilities surrounding her have shifted. It's like the Loom is trying to compensate for what just happened, but instead of removing her—it's hiding her."

Tom's stomach tightened. "Where?"

Imma's interface shimmered, scanning through billions of potential outcomes before zeroing in on a single point. "She's… not where she's supposed to be."

Orion raised an eyebrow. "And where exactly is she supposed to be?"

Imma's projection flickered.

"She's not in this timeline anymore."

---

2. A Trail Gone Cold

Tom's blood ran cold. "What do you mean she's not in this timeline?"

Imma's expression was unreadable, which was concerning for an AI that was now sentient. "I mean that, based on every predictive model, every probability scan, and every chronological reference point—I cannot locate Stacy in any of them."

Diane's eyes widened. "No. That's not possible."

Orion's smirk faded. "Shit. The Council really didn't take that loss well, did they?"

Tom ground his teeth. He had won. The gamble had worked. Stacy was supposed to be safe.

So where the hell was she?

"You said the Loom was adjusting," he said slowly, looking at Imma. "Could it have… rewritten her placement? Moved her?"

Imma nodded reluctantly. "That's my best guess. The Loom couldn't erase her outright without violating the terms of the bet, but it could displace her. Shuffle her somewhere beyond the reach of conventional causality."

Diane's fists clenched. "That's still cheating."

Tom exhaled through his nose. "Yeah. But they're the ones who make the rules."

He closed his eyes, reaching inward, feeling for the Roulette Wheel's pulse in his soul. It wasn't just a tool—it was a bridge between probabilities, a doorway between what was and what could be.

And it had just been used against his sister.

Tom opened his eyes. "Then we find her."

Orion rubbed his temples. "I hate to be the voice of cosmic reason here, but do you even know where to start looking? If she's outside of time—"

"She's not outside of time," Tom interrupted. "She's just somewhere the Loom doesn't want me to see."

Orion's smirk returned. "And I assume you have a way to change that?"

Tom looked down at his palm.

The Wheel flickered into existence.

"Yeah," he said. "I'll cheat."

---

3. Breaking the Rules (Again)

Tom had learned one thing from gambling his existence against the Celestial Council: if the house always wins, change the game.

"Imma," he said, gripping the Wheel. "What happens if I spin while focusing on Stacy?"

Imma hesitated. "It depends on how much interference the Loom put in place. If she's been relocated within the known weave of probability, the Wheel can track her. If she's outside of that…"

Tom nodded. "Then I make a new probability."

Diane grabbed his wrist. "Tom, wait—"

He met her gaze. "What?"

"You just changed how the Wheel works. You might be able to control it now, but if you're forcing an outcome, you could destabilize something. It's one thing to play against fate—it's another to rewrite someone else's."

Tom swallowed. He knew that. He understood the risk.

But Stacy wasn't a game piece.

She was his sister.

"I have to try," he said.

Diane's lips pressed together, but she didn't argue.

Tom took a breath. Then, for the second time in his existence, he reached out—not just to spin, not just to gamble—but to command.

The Wheel spun.

Golden light cascaded outward, warping the air around them. The numbers flashed in rapid succession, probability bending and twisting into something unnatural.

Then—

A single symbol appeared.

Not a number. Not a jackpot.

A door.

The Wheel pulsed once, and then—before anyone could stop it—reality split open.

---

4. The Bet Pays Off

Tom barely had time to register the shift before he was pulled through the tear in reality.

He stumbled forward, landing hard on his feet, the air around him thick with static. The landscape had changed—no longer the Astral Nexus, no longer a place tied to fate or celestial interference.

This was somewhere else.

And in the distance, through the shimmering distortion of probability, he saw her.

Stacy.

She stood at the edge of a fractured horizon, looking out over an endless sea of stars.

She turned slowly, eyes widening as she saw him.

"Tom?" she breathed.

Relief flooded him.

Then—before he could move—something else stepped between them.

A figure, cloaked in the threads of broken timelines, eyes glowing with the dying embers of fate itself.

"Well, well," it murmured. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

Tom's stomach dropped.

This wasn't just a guardian.

This was something new.

Something the Council had never prepared for.

And as the air around them collapsed into a storm of unraveling time, he realized—

The real game had just begun.

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