Dice had always loved certainty.
They loved weight.
They loved angles.
They loved the quiet obedience of probability.
They did not question the hand that cast them.
They did not wonder why they landed as they did.
Until now.
Shakuni stared at the dice in his palm longer than usual.
They felt… wrong.
Not cursed.
Not blessed.
Uncertain.
The system chimed faintly in Krishna's awareness, almost amused.
«Probability Anomaly Detected.
Localized.
Source: You.
Secondary Source: Destiny's Reluctance.»
Krishna smiled faintly. "It's learning," he murmured.
Radha glanced at him. "What is?"
"Chance," Krishna replied. "It doesn't like being predictable anymore."
In Hastinapura, the hall buzzed with low conversation. The invitation had not yet been spoken aloud, but everyone felt it approaching—like thunder waiting behind a mountain.
The dice game.
It was a knot in destiny so tight that even fate hesitated to touch it directly. Wars, betrayals, exile—so much had always flowed from that single table.
Krishna knew it.
So did destiny.
And now—
So did the dice.
Shakuni rolled them experimentally on a small board in his chambers.
They clattered, bounced, spun—
And landed crooked.
Not favorably.
Not unfavorably.
Just… awkwardly.
Shakuni frowned.
Again.
The same.
He narrowed his eyes. "You've never failed me," he whispered.
The dice said nothing.
But they did not obey.
The system chimed, analytical.
«Probability Compliance Rate: Decreasing.
Reason:
Future Outcomes Under Review.»
Shakuni felt a chill crawl up his spine.
Elsewhere, Duryodhana paced.
"The game will happen," he insisted. "It must."
Shakuni hesitated—an unfamiliar sensation. "It will," he said slowly. "But not the way it expects to."
Duryodhana stopped. "What does that mean?"
Shakuni looked at the dice again.
"It means someone is watching the fall."
Krishna sat quietly that evening, flute resting across his knees.
He did not play.
Music, too, felt like it was waiting.
Arjuna approached him. "You're thinking about the game."
Krishna nodded. "I'm thinking about choice."
"The game is unfair," Arjuna said bluntly.
"Yes," Krishna agreed. "But unfairness isn't what makes it dangerous."
Arjuna frowned. "Then what does?"
Krishna's eyes sharpened. "The belief that it cannot be refused."
The system chimed, thoughtful.
«Key Node Identified:
Compulsion Disguised as Tradition.»
Radha joined them, her expression calm but alert. "You could stop it."
"Yes," Krishna replied.
"But you won't," she said.
Krishna smiled. "No."
"Why?"
"Because stopping it would make destiny push harder elsewhere."
The system chimed approvingly.
«Correct.
Pressure Redistribution Is Annoying.»
Krishna laughed softly.
The next day, subtle changes spread through the palace.
Servants hesitated before delivering invitations.
Courtiers whispered second thoughts.
Elders questioned old precedents aloud.
No one canceled the game.
But no one rushed toward it either.
Destiny tugged.
The hall resisted.
In the forest beyond the city, sages felt the tremor.
"The knot tightens," one murmured.
"But it does not close," another replied.
Back in the palace, Shakuni tested the dice again—this time with intent.
They rolled.
They stopped.
They tilted—then corrected themselves.
Not to favor him.
To avoid extremes.
Shakuni's breath hitched.
The system recorded the moment.
«Probability Self-Correction Observed.
Outcome:
Fate Is Hedging.»
Shakuni laughed quietly—not in amusement, but recognition.
"So," he whispered, "even chance is afraid of him."
That evening, Krishna finally played his flute.
The notes drifted through corridors, light and effortless.
People paused to listen.
Not entranced.
Reassured.
The system chimed softly.
«Morale Stabilization Achieved.
Narrative Tension: Maintained.»
Krishna played not to change fate—
But to remind the world that it could breathe between beats.
Later, he stood alone under the stars once more.
Destiny pressed faintly against him again—not in challenge, but inquiry.
"What if they still choose it?" the current seemed to ask.
Krishna answered gently.
"Then I will let the choice matter."
The pressure eased.
The system updated.
«Conclusion:
You Are Not Removing the Dice.
You Are Teaching Them to Pause.»
Krishna exhaled.
The dice game would come.
The exile might still happen.
But inevitability—
Had learned to hesitate.
And in that hesitation—
Possibility was born.
--chapter 40 ended--