I Can Extract Game Items

With the whole morning still free, August decided to explore the city. Since his arrival in this world, his life had been consumed by the immediate demands of survival, his debts, and the game. Rarely had he found the time to actually take in the city around him.

He strolled down the bustling streets, passing shops filled with goods ranging from trinkets and hand-crafted artifacts to the latest in affordable tech.

Vendors lined the sidewalks, calling out to passersby to check out their wares, and the scent of street food wafted through the air, mingling with the fresh morning breeze.

The city itself was an intriguing blend of old and new. Its older, worn-down buildings stood side by side with more modern, renovated structures.

Tarred streets twisted and turned in certain areas, leading to small alleyways and hidden courtyards where life seemed to thrive in its own quiet way.

There was a charm here that, despite the poverty of his own neighborhood, reminded him of what he had come to appreciate about this world.

August found himself pausing by a small square where children were playing. Their laughter filled the air as they ran around in circles, chased by a friendly dog.

The sight brought a rare, genuine smile to his face.

"Not bad but I'm still never having a kid. Those little miscreants will make my life a living hell... Anyways... I have much more important things to focus on,"

As he moved on, passing stalls and shops, he couldn't help but think about the potential his extraction ability held. Perhaps, one day, he could bring more to this world—items that might help others beyond himself.

For now, though, he focused on his immediate plans, glancing at the time and mentally preparing for his upcoming meeting. Today held the potential to bring him one step closer to his goals.

...

...

The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the bustling open-air restaurant, where people sat at tables chatting over steaming plates of food.

It was a place that felt familiar yet lively. The noise and movement provided a sort of comfort.

The restaurant was strategically chosen—busy enough to deter any mischief and close to a police station, just in case anything went sideways.

August sat at a small table with a cup of coffee cooling in front of him. His scarf was wrapped loosely around his face, obscuring his identity just enough to avoid drawing unnecessary attention.

He leaned back with a casual yet alert posture while scanning the crowd for his buyer.

Soon, a man in his early forties, dressed in a well-tailored dark suit, approached the table.

His features were sharp but friendly, with an air of professionalism that suggested he wasn't new to such transactions. As he reached the table, he extended a hand with a warm smile.

"Mr. Aleman, I presume?" he greeted with a respectful tone that exuded a hint of enthusiasm.

August rose slightly, reaching out to shake the man's hand. "That's me. And you must be the buyer."

The man chuckled, nodding as he adjusted his glasses. "Indeed. I am Henry Whitford. I work as an independent appraiser and buyer for certain… clients with specific tastes." He gave August a knowing look as his eyes gleamed with interest. "And when I heard about the Bronze Shortsword, well, let's just say I couldn't resist."

August smirked under his scarf, nodding. "Well, Mr. Whitford, let's take a look and make sure it's everything you hoped it would be."

He carefully reached into his bag, pulling out the Bronze Shortsword. Its blade caught the sunlight, shimmering as he withdrew it partway from its sheath.

The bronze alloy glowed with a faint magical aura. Henry's eyes widened as he took in the sword's details, clearly impressed. His hand extended toward it almost reverently.

"May I?" he inquired while glancing at August for permission.

August nodded, releasing the sword into Henry's hands. Henry grasped the hilt, feeling the weight and balance of the weapon. He held it up, admiring the craftsmanship while his eyes traced the subtle runes etched into the blade's edge.

"This is… remarkable," he murmured, almost to himself. "The artistry, the balance… I've seen my share of fine weaponry, but this is beyond expectations. Definitely not of this world." He gave the sword a light swing, testing its grip, then swung it a bit more boldly.

To his and August's surprise, the blade sliced cleanly through the wooden table beside them, severing it with such precision that the two halves split apart as if they'd been cut by a master craftsman.

Gasps erupted from the nearby diners, and heads turned as people stared at the shattered table.

"What the...?"

Many looked in shock, and a couple of restaurant staff hurried over, alarmed.

Henry looked horrified, quickly holding up his hands in apology. "My deepest apologies, everyone! I'll cover the damages," he called out, flustered but reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a black credit card.

He handed it to one of the staff members, who looked at him warily but nodded, evidently satisfied with the assurance of compensation.

The staff gathered the broken pieces of the table and left the two men to their business, though the lingering attention from other diners was hard to ignore.

Once the small scene settled, Henry cleared his throat, giving August a sheepish smile. "I may have underestimated its sharpness."

August chuckled. "That happens more often than you'd think with items from Enders Light."

Henry composed himself, returning to the matter at hand. "Right, well, we agreed on one hundred thousand dollars, yes?" He retrieved his phone, glancing at August for confirmation.

August nodded, keeping his tone steady but watchful. "That's right."

After a few quick taps, Henry confirmed the transfer, and August's phone buzzed with a notification.

He glanced at the screen, verifying that the funds had successfully landed in the account he'd designated. The deal was going smoothly, almost too smoothly, and just as he was about to hand the sword over to Henry, the faint sound of engines filled the air.

The sound grew louder, accompanied by murmurs from nearby diners as people looked toward the street.

A convoy of black SUVs pulled up to the restaurant with tinted windows and polished exteriors.

There were four vehicles in total, each one exuding an aura of power and authority. At the center of the convoy was a final SUV, slightly larger than the others. It radiated with wealth.

The restaurant became noisy with hushed conversations as people watched in curiosity and confoundment.

It was a dramatic arrival, one that signaled the presence of someone important—or dangerous.

One by one, the SUV doors opened, and men in dark suits emerged. Their expressions were stern and vigilant as they scanned the area.

They formed a protective line around the largest SUV, which remained closed for a few tense moments.

Finally, the door opened, and a figure stepped out—a man in his thirties, with sharp, angular features, slicked-back hair, and a suit that looked like it cost as much as a car.

His presence was commanding, exuding an air of cold authority and self-assured power.

This was Floozk, a name whispered in the underground circles, the man known as The Boss in certain parts of the city.

Henry's face blanched as he recognized Floozk. His hands tensed slightly as he clutched the sword's hilt. He leaned closer to August as his voice dropped to a whisper.

"Is that… Floozk?" Henry's voice was filled with disbelief as his eyes darted nervously toward the approaching entourage.

August kept his expression calm.

This was not the kind of interference he needed and he hoped to God that whatever this was, had nothing to do with him.

However, that hope was soon dashed as Floozk strolled toward them.

His bodyguards flanked him, displaying intimidating auras that kept people away.

Among them was the same man who had met with August during his previous attempt to sell the sword. His gaze lingered on August with a mixture of recognition and satisfaction, as though he had been anticipating this moment.

Floozk's gaze landed on August, assessing him with a look that was both calculating and amused. It was a look that suggested he knew exactly who he was dealing with, and that this was more than just a chance encounter.

"So, you're the infamous Aleman," Floozk's smooth voice carried a subtle edge. "I understand you're in possession of something… rather special."

"And I guess you must be the infamous boss," August responded calmly as his eyes darted between the former buyer and Floozk himself.