TheShingPen
A Gamble With Fate
Zarin gasped awake, his eyes snapping open. He found himself in the cell again, waking up again and fighting to catch his breath. He rubbed his ribs out of habit, expecting the deep bruises that never formed—no broken bones, no marks. Just the familiar cold stone beneath him.
He got up slowly, his legs shaky but steady enough to stand. His muscles might not have carried the pain from the previous beating, but the memory of it weighed him down like a heavy cloak. Every time he died, he returned to this cell, whole and unharmed—but in his mind, the endless torment remained. Each reset left his spirit more battered than his body.
‘Damn. Not again.’
Ding!
That familiar chime echoed in his head again.
————————————————————
Objective: Escape
————————————————————
‘Yeah, yeah, I know. I need to escape,’ Zarin muttered bitterly in his thoughts. He was sick of that message. Every time it appeared, it felt like a taunt. ‘Escape. Sure, like it’s so simple.’
He had tried everything he could think.
Firstly, he had tried to fight back. He’d thrown punches, hoping to land a blow that would knock the man down or give him a chance to run. ‘What a joke.’ The man was stronger and more experienced, swatting aside Zarin’s attempts as if he were an irritating fly. Each time Zarin tried, he paid for it with a flurry of strikes that left him gasping on the floor. ‘I’m just target practice for this guy.’
Running had been his next attempt. Zarin thought that was his opportunity since the man didn’t close the door. But the problem wasn’t the door—it was the man. The man wasn’t just strong; he was lightning fast. Every time Zarin tried to dash past, the man caught him effortlessly, slamming him back into the cell like it was nothing. ‘I’m not slow, but I might as well be a statue beside him.’
The worst part was knowing what would follow. He had reached the point that he could predict every punch and kick before it landed since the man’s movements were ingrained in his mind. But even that didn’t help. ‘What good is knowing what’s coming when you can’t stop it? It’s like the universe is laughing at me.’
---
He heard the heavy footsteps echoing from the corridor once more. Zarin’s heart sank. He knew what was coming. He always did.
The door to the cell creaked open, and the man entered with the same slow, deliberate steps. His scarred face twisted into a cruel grin as he stepped forward, cracking his knuckles like always. It was almost a ritual at this point.
‘Here we go again. The same routine.’
“Well, well. Another rat in the cage,” the man said, his voice a low, mocking growl.
Zarin stood still, not even bothering to prepare himself this time. ‘What’s the point? I know exactly how this is going to go.’
The man shifted his weight. Zarin saw the fist coming toward his gut, but his body refused to move fast enough to dodge it. The blow landed with a sickening thud, driving the air from his lungs.
Zarin crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath. The next punch came—a left hook that struck his jaw. He had seen it coming, too. But he couldn’t stop it.
---
Zarin woke up again and was back in the cell, the same as always. No injuries, no blood. His hands instinctively touched his jaw, but there was no lingering pain. Not physically, at least.
‘But I still feel it. Every damn time.’
He leaned against the wall, staring at the high, barred window that let in the faintest sliver of light. There had to be a way out of this. There had to be something he hadn’t thought of yet.
His eyes scanned the room again, desperate for a clue, anything that might give him an edge. That’s when he remembered about them—the dice.
They dangled in a pouch at the person’s belt, swaying slightly. In one of his attempts to escape, he had caused the pouch to drop and spill its contents. He had never thought much about them. Now, however, his mind raced with a new idea.
‘It’s ridiculous. Completely stupid. But what do I have to lose?’
---
When the door creaked open again, and the man stepped inside, Zarin raised his hand, his voice shaky but determined. “Wait!”
The man paused, narrowing his eyes. “What is it now?”
‘I can’t believe I’m doing this.’
“I... I want to make a deal, “Zarin said, swallowing hard. “Let’s play a game. Dice.”
The man blinked, clearly surprised by the request. “You want to play dice? “He chuckled, low and cruel. “You think you can gamble your way out of this?”
Zarin forced himself to stand, his knees weak but steady. ‘This is insane, but it’s all I’ve got.’ “Why not? I’ve got nothing left to lose.”
The man smirked, clearly intrigued. “Alright, rat. You’ve got guts. We’ll play. But my rules. Simple. Whoever rolls higher wins.”
Zarin nodded, his heart pounding as the man pulled the dice from his belt. He crouched down and tossed them onto the stone floor. The small cubes clattered and bounced, spinning wildly before finally coming to a stop.
A six and a five.
‘Eleven? Seriously?‘ Zarin’s stomach sank. Almost unbeatable.
The man leaned back, his grin widening. “Your turn, rat.”
Zarin picked up the dice with trembling hands, his fingers feeling cold and clammy. His body still ached, and the memory of the beatings clouded his mind, but this was his only chance. He knelt, took a deep breath, and rolled.
The dice bounced across the floor, clattering against the stone as they spun and tumbled. Zarin’s heart pounded in his ears as he watched them roll, his breath catching in his throat.
The first die landed—a six.
Zarin’s pulse quickened.
The second die spun wildly, teetering on the edge before finally rolling to a stop.
Another six. Double sixes.
Zarin stared at the dice in disbelief. He had won.
‘Holy crap. I won.’
The man’s smirk disappeared, replaced by a deep scowl. “No way… “he muttered, glaring at the dice.
But a deal was a deal.
The man stepped back, motioning toward the open door. “Fine. You win. Get out.”
Zarin released a long, shaky breath as he stepped through the doorway. ‘I did it. Somehow, against all odds, I did it.’
But as he stood in the corridor beyond, a cold thought gnawed at the back of his mind:
‘This was just the tutorial.’