I Can Extract Game Items

August finally arrived home after the intense events of the day. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically, but as he sat down on his worn-out couch, his mind raced with everything that had happened.

The meeting at the café, the confrontation on the train, and the strange figures following him—he couldn't shake the feeling that he had just narrowly escaped something far more dangerous than he'd initially thought.

He leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment, replaying the events in his mind.

"This whole endeavor is more dangerous than I anticipated," he thought out loud.

The reality of selling game items brought into the real world was no longer just an exciting venture for quick cash; it was a perilous game, where trust was a rare commodity and danger lurked in every transaction.

"This is something I won't be able to keep up alone," he already knew this which was why his thoughts drifted to the idea of creating a business once more—a legitimate company that could handle situations like these, with protocols in place for protection, trust, and verified transactions.

But the capital wasn't there yet. He was starting from scratch, and he needed more than just ideas. He needed people—reliable people—but being new in this world meant he had no connections to build such a team.

He sighed while running a hand through his long green hair, streaked with the familiar white patches. "I need a plan... but first, I need to figure out who I can trust."

With that thought in mind, August turned to the one place he knew could offer some insight: the forums. Logging onto the site where he had posted the Bronze Shortsword for sale, he quickly noticed something that made his eyes widen—his post had exploded.

The number of potential buyers had surged to over a hundred, all eager to purchase the rare game item.

"This is good... but it's also a problem."

He scrolled through the flood of messages. His brows furrowed as he read some of the offers. There were legitimate-sounding buyers, offering to pay the full amount up front, but just as many shady-sounding inquiries filled his inbox, filled with vague promises and strange demands. "I don't know which ones are real and which are just waiting to rob me," he thought while rubbing the back of his neck in frustration.

One idea kept appearing at the back of his mind—"I'll have to be very careful... maybe even hire some bodyguards." But even that came with risks. What if the bodyguards turned out to be the ones to double-cross him? The more he thought about it, the more he realized how dangerous every move could be. One wrong step and he could get himself in trouble.

As he scrolled further down the forum, he noticed a message from the same man he had met earlier that night. August sent a message saying the deal after mentioning everything that went down.

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The man then sent him a long apology, swearing that he had nothing to do with the ambush on the train. He insisted that his boss was still very much interested in purchasing the item and begged August to reconsider.

"Not interested," August thought while shaking his head as he typed a curt response. He wasn't about to put himself at risk again, especially after what had happened tonight.

"Sorry, after getting jumped I'm not interested in selling anymore," he typed.

The man's response came almost immediately, pleading again that they had no involvement in the attack, but August was already done with the conversation. He closed the chat window and leaned back as his thoughts spun.

What made it worse was that the fight on the train had been captured by bystanders.

Within hours, videos of the battle had surfaced online, with people debating what had happened. Some discussions focused on how supernatural players, like the ones in the video, were becoming more dangerous.

Others used the video to claim that players with supernatural abilities needed to be curbed before things got out of control. Thankfully, August's face had been obscured, and no one knew it was him.

But this was a warning. The world was watching, and people were paying attention to those who wielded abilities from Enders Light. "I need to be smarter about this," August told himself, knowing he couldn't afford to get reckless.

~ Three Days Later

Three days had passed, and August found himself once again preparing to meet another buyer.

This time, he had chosen a more secure location, and he had done his research on the buyer beforehand. The person seemed more reliable, with a legitimate online presence and a history of purchasing game items without any trouble. Still, August couldn't shake the lingering doubt in the back of his mind. He knew he had to stay on guard.

As he checked over the details of the meeting one last time, a notification popped up on his phone—a message from the same man he had met earlier that week.

"Hey, please reconsider. My boss is really interested in the item. He doesn't want someone else getting it."

August sighed while reading the message. He didn't reply this time, but a feeling of unease settled over him. Something about this situation still didn't sit right. Why was this boss so desperate to get his hands on a bronze-grade weapon?

...

...

Far away, in a luxurious mansion surrounded by high walls and heavily armed guards, the man who had met August paced nervously in front of a massive desk.

Seated behind the desk was a figure—a man in his late forties, with slicked-back black hair and a sharply tailored suit.

His eyes were dark and calculating, and his presence dominated the room. His name was Floozk, but in the underworld, he was known simply as "The Boss."

Floozk was a man of considerable wealth and influence, with ties to both legitimate and less-than-legal enterprises. He had built an empire on power and fear, and he was always looking for ways to gain an edge—especially in the emerging market of game items brought into reality.

The man standing in front of him—Floozk's subordinate—spoke nervously. "Boss, it looks like August is about to sell the Bronze Shortsword to someone else. He's meeting with another buyer soon."

Floozk's sharp eyes narrowed as he listened while his fingers tapped rhythmically on the desk. He was a tall man with broad shoulders, and even though he wasn't standing, there was an aura of menace around him. His jaw was square, and a scar ran from his left cheekbone down to the corner of his lip, giving his otherwise composed face a hint of violence.

He leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he considered the situation. "He's selling it to someone else, is he?"

"Yes, Boss. He said he's no longer interested in our offer, but I know he's meeting with a new buyer soon. I—I think we can still get it if we move fast."

Floozk's expression darkened. He wasn't a man who liked being refused. The Bronze Shortsword might have been a bronze-grade item, but Floozk knew its true value lay beyond its classification.

It was a rare artifact from Enders Light, and possessing such items meant power—power that could be used in the real world.

"You're telling me someone else is going to get their hands on that sword?" Floozk's voice was low, but there was a dangerous edge to it.

The man swallowed nervously. "Yes, Boss, but we can intercept—"

Floozk raised a hand, silencing him. He stood up from his desk causing his tall frame to cast a long shadow across the room. "Find out where the purchase is going to take place. I want that sword. We'll make sure the buyer never gets their hands on it."

"Yes, Boss," the man stammered and bowed slightly before hurrying out of the room.

Floozk turned toward the large windows of his office, focusing his gaze on the city beyond. His mind was already working out the next steps. He had dealt with plenty of sellers like August before—people who thought they could control the terms of a deal. But in the end, Floozk always got what he wanted. And he wasn't about to let some kid with a game item sell what he wanted to someone else.

"Let's see if this August is as clever as he thinks he is," Floozk muttered under his breath as a sinister smile spread across his face.