Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

“A safe place to forge, where you don’t have to worry about being raided by demons. You’ll encounter them sooner or later here. The Apocalypse involves the entire world, and no one can escape it.”

“In addition, there are many top-quality materials. We’ve recently acquired quite a few ‘parts’ of angels and demons, which need to be processed. And,” Dean said earnestly, “an opportunity for your creations to truly be used on the battlefield to protect more people, instead of being bought by collectors as decorations.”

Grayson remained silent for a long time.

Finally, he stubbed out his cigarette: "I need to check out your place. If it's really as you say, I can consider it."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief and was about to contact Sam to report on the progress when his emergency communicator suddenly started vibrating wildly.

He thought something had happened to Sam, but upon closer inspection, it turned out to be Bobby's!

It's a distress signal!
The location of the distress call had been pinpointed by internet addicts: a dilapidated motel on a remote highway in Nevada.

"Damn it!" Dean jumped to his feet. "Mr. Grayson, I have to..."

"Go ahead." The old man waved his hand. "The car keys are on the table. My old truck can handle the mountain roads. I'll go find it myself and take a look first. We can talk about what we haven't finished talking about after you've taken care of it."

Dean arrived as quickly as possible, and it was already late at night.

The sign for this "Starlight Hotel" was missing two letters, the neon lights flickered on and off, and the whole building exuded an ominous silence.

Dean drew his gun and carefully pushed open the hotel door.

The lobby was empty, and the front desk was covered in a thick layer of dust, but there were fresh footprints on the floor—the footprints of the boots he had given to Bobby, which Dean recognized.

He followed the footprints to the door of room 106, which was ajar.

“Bobby?” Dean called softly, and pushed open the door.

There was no response from inside the room, only faint breathing sounds. Dean cautiously peered into the room.

The sight in the room caused his heart to stop.

In a dusty, cluttered room, Bobby was slumped in a worn-out armchair.

But this Bobby was not the old witcher Dean knew, who, though old, was still energetic and full of fighting spirit.

The person in front of me was so thin he was skin and bones, his face was covered with deep wrinkles, his hair was sparse and gray, and his hands trembled so much that he could barely hold the hunting rifle on his knees.

He looked to be over ninety years old, nearing the end of his life, almost a man with one more breath than a dead man.

However, it can still be recognized from the skeletal outline.

Dean knew almost immediately that this was Bobby, the little old man he already considered family.

“Bobby?! Oh my god, what happened?” Dean rushed into the room.

Bobby lifted his eyelids; his once sharp eyes were now cloudy. He forced a smile: "Hey kid, I still managed to call you here."

"Who did this? Where is that guy? I'll kill him!"

“No!” Bobby’s voice was hoarse like a broken bellows. “It was my own choice.”

He recounted the events in fits and starts.

It turns out he changed his target and instead found the Card Traveler.

It was a man who looked to be in his thirties, dressed in a well-tailored suit, who had set up a deck of cards in the hotel room.

The other party doesn't need money as a stake; the bet is quite unique.

To prepare for this, Bobby even went to a casino to practice his gambling skills, and incidentally lost all the money in his pocket.

However, he didn't think it was because his gambling skills were bad. Instead, he believed it was a sign of bad luck. Since he had lost all his money here, it meant that he had used up all his bad luck.

If Bobby gambled with the card-playing woman again, things would surely turn around for the better. So Bobby confidently found the card merchant and invited him to start a game.

The rules of the game are simple: the basic wager is ten years of lifespan, and the loser will lose ten years of lifespan. Bobby wants to win back his youth, so he bets fifty years, believing that the luck he has accumulated is about to come in handy.

Decide to gamble on the outcome.

Fifty years is enough for him to regain his youth and sustain him through this apocalyptic battle.

“I thought I could win.” Bobby coughed, a cough that seemed to tear his hair out. “Looks like my luck is still bad.”

Dean was speechless when he heard this, but at the same time he was worried about Bobby in front of him.

He was really worried that Bobby would die from not being able to catch his breath.

Dean gestured to Bobby, indicating that he understood without needing to say anything more.

The result was obvious: Bobby lost.

Fifty years of his lifespan were instantly taken away. He can still speak now because of the Witcher's strong will, but his body has reached its end.

Bobby, however, continued talking regardless, and his spirits seemed to suddenly improve; he even tried to sit up.

“Listen, Dean.” Bobby grabbed Dean’s arm with all his might; the hand felt as light as a twig. “You and Sam have to be okay.”

"Don't believe Lucifer's or Michael's lies; you are humanity's last."

"Stop talking!" Dean's eyes were red. "You won't die, you hear me? I'm going to find that bastard, I'll win back your lifespan!"

"Dean, don't go!"

"I can win! I've never lost at cards!" Dean practically yelled. "You stay here, don't move, and wait for me to come back!"

He placed his emergency energy bar and water next to Bobby, then rushed out of the room.

"Internet Addiction, based on Bobby's location and whereabouts, the time of his last stop, and the location of those who left with him, now help me find where the Card Traveler is?" He typed rapidly on the communicator in his hand.

The internet addict quickly pinpointed the location and provided information: Savage Bar.

Dean quickly located the private room where the woman with the card was.

The room was furnished exactly as Bobby had described: a small round table, two chairs, and a deck of cards on the table.

A man in a dark blue suit with his hair neatly combed sat in one of the chairs, smiling at Dean.

“Dean Winchester. I’ve heard so much about you.” His voice was gentle and polite. “Please have a seat. What would you like to bet?”

“Bobby’s fifty years of life.” Dean pulled out a chair and sat down, his eyes fixed on the other man. “I’ll wager it.”

"I'll bet eighty years this time!"

"My body has been enhanced by the Angel Potion, so I should have this much lifespan."

Dean's plan was simple: he not only wanted to help Bobby win back his lost life, but also to help Bobby fulfill his wishes.

While he lacked confidence in other areas, Dean considered himself quite skilled at gambling.

“Lifespan is enough to pay the chips, it’s fair.” The Card Traveler began shuffling the cards, his movements as fluid as a magician’s. “So, the stakes are set: eighty years of lifespan, simple rules, Texas Hold’em, one round to decide the winner, agree?”

"Deal the cards."

The card game has begun. (End of Chapter)