The Legend of Hamel's Angler Begins

In the dim, smoke-filled haze of a dark casino, a middle-aged man swallowed hard.

Four of a kind...!

Two years into his gambling career, he held the golden hand that had never once appeared before: four nines. The unbeatable combo in poker. He knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime shot, and he clenched his jaw to hide the grin creeping across his face.

Don't fold. All in, you bastards...!

The man eyed the three others at the round table. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠An old geezer with a long white beard who looked like he'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠never touched a card in his life. A blond guy he recognized from the casino—a pro gambler like himself, though the name escaped him. And finally, one more.

"Ah... uh..."

A redheaded young man. The losses he'd racked up so far could buy a house on the outskirts. He was the mark the man had his eye on—a total fish. Looked like he'd struck it rich young, but this cutthroat world of schemes and bluffs wasn't for him. The kid couldn't even school his face; every loss sent him diving back in to chase his money, reeking of amateur.

Bets flew, and just as the man wanted, the pot ballooned. At stakes he'd never seen before, his lips began to quiver.

Yes... perfect!!!

The blond seemed to have a solid hand too, but sadly, Lady Luck was on his side. Win this, and he could pay off his debts, shut up his nagging wife who called his gambling madness, live large. Hell, even repay the tuition he'd "borrowed" for his poker fund, and be the proud dad again. With that hope—that she'd see gambling as his profession, not a vice—he declared in a steady voice.

"All in."

The old man, who seemed utterly uninterested in money, chuckled and shoved his chips forward.

"All in for me too."

The blond followed suit.

"All in!"

The man turned to the pale-faced youth.

"What about you? All in? Or fold?"

"Th-that... no, this..."

A twinge of guilt hit him seeing the kid's panic, but pity was a luxury in this game. Hoping it'd be a harsh lesson, he tossed out some "advice."

"Just fold. Lose more, and you won't make it home."

"Ah... but...!"

The youth gulped and pushed his chips forward with a trembling voice.

"All in!"

Idiot. Even gave him an out, and he blows it.

One by one, they revealed their hands. A bloom of triumph spread across the man's face.

"Sorry about this. Four of a kind."

Close call. But mine's four nines...!

The old man tossed his cards.

"Jack pair."

Victory sealed, the man unleashed his hidden grin, beaming as he reached to rake in the chips.

"Sorry, sorry! Whew, holding back was torture. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Thought you all might fold. Four nines! Hahaha!"

Electric thrill from the pile, ecstasy at the mountain of chips now his—until a cold voice shattered it.

"Mind if I show mine?"

"What?"

"My hand. You should see it."

The redhead spoke coolly. Gone was the pale, boyish panic—now a blank, stoic mask.

Thud.

A casual flick laid out the cards. The man's body froze like ice.

"Royal flush."

"What? No... impossible."

The kid's face was impassive as he tabled poker's absolute best. No glee, no thrill—just stating the obvious. The man's eyes trembled wide.

"No way... it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was..."

The youth leaned in, whispering.

"Told you to fold."

"Too bad."

The youth pressed the priciest chip into the man's hand.

"Fold. For your family's sake."

Staring blankly, the man rasped.

"You... what's your name?"

"Call me Hamel's Angler."

"Angler..."

Thus began the legend of the empire's greatest gambler, 'Angler'.

Heading back to the shop with a fat wad of cash, I grinned, imagining the lady's sullen face lighting up. My lips curved naturally at the thought.

"Still... didn't expect the Tower Lord here."

The white-bearded geezer. Tower Lord of the empire's Mage Tower. One of the five grand archmages. Never dreamed he'd be in a place like this. His free-spirited rep meant anywhere was possible, but a casino? No way.

Here for Ruin?

Nah. I recalled a recent episode and nodded. Hans. Probably hunting his fallen disciple. A chill ran down my spine at the creepy encounter as I walked the streets.

-Plop.

Something viscous hit my crown. Too heavy for rain, too gross for snow. Cursing inwardly, I touched it—white goo on my fingers. Deep sigh.

"Haa... penalty, huh."

Pigeon shit. Not too stinky, but the symbol of misfortune. I stood still, humbly accepting the bad luck headed my way. Expected it, after all.

Limit Break. Pushes the user's abilities to the brink. But the penalty is ironclad. The skill I got opening my eyes in this world. My highest-grade ability, the one that made me who I am. Even my young age and prowess? Thanks to this.

Penalties were clear: test luck's limit, get pigeon-shit headaches or a day of nothing going right. Push physical limits, suffer killer muscle pain. Regen? Agonizing throbs. Harsh trade-offs, but rewards beyond imagination.

Today's luck ends with bird crap—lucky, but still sucks.

Passing the dazed gamblers, en route to the shop.

"Heh heh... lucky kid."

The whitebeard hailed me. Kindly-faced old man from our table—the Tower Lord. I dipped my head slightly.

"Not giving the money back, though."

His eyes widened in surprise. Didn't expect that line. I flashed a small smile at the stunned Tower Lord.

"Can spot you fare home, though."

"Heh heh..."

He stroked his beard, chuckling.

"Fun guy."

"I know."

Tower Lord of the Mage Tower. Fated to die by disciple Hans—far in the future, but a future I won't let happen. Tyrfing's in my hands; I'll stop it.

I bowed, wishing him well.

"Then I'll go treat myself with your cash, gramps."

"Booze?"

"Yeah."

"Heh heh heh... what a kid."

Meanwhile, at the shop. Chill air hung heavy.

"What?"

The plump girl student sneered down at Olivia, who glared back with murderous eyes. Outnumbered 3-to-1, Olivia stood fearless, silently staring them down.

"Shut up."

"Pfft...!"

The plump one laughed at her friend.

"What'd the brat say?"

"Dunno. Shut up, I guess."

"Puh."

Laughter echoed, mocking how hilarious it was. Amid the jeers, Olivia quietly tightened the noose on her prey.

The plump girl stepped closer.

"Hey. Say it again."

"..."

"Say it. You'll kill me? Puhaha, still think you're the old Olivia?"

"..."

"One word, and it's 'sorry ma'am' time. Get real."

"..."

Olivia sighed deeply, eyeing her.

"You look like an orc with a triangular head, yapping nonstop."

Ear-picking as she eyed them. Her warning only fueled their rage.

"What?"

Olivia smirked faintly.

"Am I wrong?"

Olivia's main weapon: words.

And...

-Vrrrooom...!

A trusty weapon guarded her.

The shop, a wreck.

"...?"

Bag of cash in hand, I stared dumbfounded at the lady blankly in the center.

"Monster attack?"

"No."

"Uh... meteor from the sky?"

She shook her head sullenly.

"No..."

Her voice sinking into the earth, shrinking. Bad vibes hit me. Trembling, I asked.

Wrecked shop. Panicked clerk's eyes. Girls staring at her, quivering.

"Haa... miss."

"Yeah...?"

Her head drooped further with the sigh. I stated firmly.

"Robbery, huh."

"Huh?"

"Don't worry. Stolen cash? Call it a donation."

I checked her over—no injuries.

"Fingers intact..."

"Face... pretty."

"Heehee..."

"Glad you're unhurt."

"Thanks."

She beamed but kept her head low. Awkward smile, sullen tone.

"Um..."

"Hurt anywhere?"

"Not that... fought the girls."

"Pardon?"

She flinched at my shock.

"Fought?"

"Yeah."

"Them?"

I glanced at the sprawled girls—bruised, charred messes.

Petting her head, I said.

"So. Where're you hurt?"

"Huh?"

She looked up, puzzled. Tiny tears in her eyes—guilt written clear.

"Not mad?"

"Nope."

"Why?"

"Seemed worth it. You fought, right? My personality patch is flawless."

"Personality patch?"

"Thing like that."

She nodded, biting her lip.

"Gotta pay damages. Lots."

"I got more money."

"Ricardo said don't hit people, but I rammed 'em."

"Be careful next time."

"And..."

Sadly, she confessed her sins. Hit 'em with Pexri No.1. Hurt feelings with harsh words, she mumbled. I pinched her cheek gently.

"So, you're unhurt?"

"Yeah..."

Sullen, head down. I smiled softly.

"Then we're good."

She drooped more.

"I cursed 'em out."

"What?"

"Beeep───!"

"Ooh..."

I stretched her cheek.

"No pad rips, though?"

"Their parents matter."

"Good job. That's plenty for me."

I know her well. Her kindness. Her temper. This? Solid win.

Handing the clerk today's bundle.

"We'll cover shortages later."