I Can Extract Game Items-Chapter 209: Five Teams Left

Galen snarled, "Fine. Again!"

He turned his Deathcharger for a second charge—

But the Deathcharger suddenly froze.

Its flaming skull eyes flickered.

Something felt... wrong.

Greg was attempting something "advanced."

"PLUMP FEATHERSTRIKE!" Greg screamed heroically. "ATTACK POSITION!"

He slapped the bird’s left buttcheek.

Plump Featherstrike thinking this meant "move"—

—began waddling forward with adorable, pathetic determination.

Greg wobbled like a man riding a slippery water balloon.

The crowd roared with laughter.

But then—

Then it happened.

The Deathcharger lowered its skull face to roar—

And Plump Featherstrike did the unimaginable.

It puffed up—

Its chest ballooned—

Its wings spread like a dollar-store dove of war—

And it unleashed a mighty, heroic—

"COOOOO!!!!"

And with that battle cry—

It pecked the Deathcharger directly in the eye socket.

Right in the ghost flame.

Right. In. The. Soul. Window.

The Deathcharger shrieked like a cursed kettle.

Green fire EXPLODED out of its nostrils.

Galen screamed, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! FOCUS, BEAST!"

The Deathcharger did the opposite of focusing.

It panicked.

Spun.

Kicked.

Reared backward—

And launched Galen ten feet into the air like a screaming medieval lawn dart.

He flipped.

He flailed.

He begged the gods.

He regretted every life decision ever made.

And then—

THUMP.

He landed on his face.

Helmet first. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Helmet stuck halfway into the ground.

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Then, Greg pointed proudly.

"BEHOLD! my tactical mastery!"

The entire audience shouted in unison:

"SHUT UP, GREG!"

Plump Featherstrike waddled around, pecked the dirt, and accidentally stepped on Galen’s gauntlet.

The Bone Knight twitched.

The referee raised a hand.

"Winner..."

He sighed deeply, soul leaving body.

"...Gregarious."

Boos, cheers, hysterical laughter, and screams erupted all at once.

Someone in the crowd threw a shoe.

Someone else fainted from disbelief.

One guild leader tore up his tournament bracket predictions.

High above, a commentator muttered:

"Every tournament has that one guy... but this guy... THIS guy..."

Greg pumped both fists into the air triumphantly.

"I knew we could do it, Plumpy!"

Plump Featherstrike gave a proud, war-like coo...

Then immediately pecked Greg’s forehead for no reason.

Greg collapsed.

The pigeon stood victorious.

Someone from the crowd whispered:

"...Was the pigeon the real competitor all along?"

Another replied:

"I think the pigeon is the final boss."

Final 25 Players Remaining!

"Next round will be the most dangerous yet..."

However, now was the time for a break. The next round wouldn’t be happening until two days from now.

...

...

A soft digital shimmer bathed August’s dimly lit room as the VR headset unlocked from his temples with a faint click. His eyes blinked against the mundane light of reality... no floating health bars, no ethereal echoes of swords clashing in the air, no sparkling mounts or mythical forests.

He sat still for a second, breathing in the real world.

Notifications buzzed on his phone beside him.

[3 Missed Calls - Derrick]

[2 Messages - Cynthia (Derrick’s Wife)]

August blinked, muttered "Sh*t," and scrambled to his feet.

Twenty minutes later, August was clad in a hoodie drawn up with the cap pulled low.

He was knocking on the weathered door of Derrick’s small apartment. The neighborhood wasn’t exactly downtown skyscraper-glitz, but it was clean. At least for now.

The door opened slowly to reveal Cynthia, visibly pregnant and a little pale.

"August..." she said with a tired smile. "You’re here."

"I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner," August said sincerely while stepping in. "Is Derrick around?"

"In the kitchen," Cynthia nodded. "Making that excuse of a soup again."

From the corner, Derrick’s familiar voice echoed, "Excuse me, that excuse of a soup kept me alive in our second year of marriage, thank you very much."

August chuckled as he entered the kitchen, where Derrick turned with a ladle in hand and mock offense on his face. "You finally remembered us normal folks who still have to live without magical swords and floating dragons, huh?"

"I try to balance it," August said. "Which is why I’m here. We need to talk. Serious talk."

Derrick’s face dropped into concern immediately. He set the ladle down and gestured to the table. "Shoot."

August sat. "You both need to move."

Cynthia frowned. "We’ve been through this. The Oni incident is done. They took what they came for—"

"No," August interrupted gently. "It’s not over. You were targeted because of your connection to me. And I’m involved in something much bigger than I thought."

"You think they’ll come back?" Derrick asked.

"I know they will. The Oni have infiltrated places we didn’t think possible. They have access to the Fruit of Corruption. That’s not something casual threats carry."

Cynthia’s face paled. "Wait. That’s the item that gives people powers in real life, right?"

August nodded grimly. "They’re distributing it. Creating supernatural soldiers. I’ve faced them. They’re not just criminals—they’re becoming an army."

Derrick stood silent for a moment. Then: "Where do we go?"

"I can pull some strings. Get you into a better neighbourhood filled with other powerful people. You’ll be safer there," August said.

Cynthia exhaled shakily. "And what about you?"

"I’ll keep fighting," August said simply. "That’s what I’m good for. You just stay alive."

A little while later, August stood near the door as Derrick walked him out.

"Thanks, bro," Derrick muttered. "We’ll still need to talk about how to move forward with A.M coven later."

August snorted. "You don’t worry about that for now. Just focus on Cynthia and your unborn baby."

They bumped fists.

Cynthia appeared at the hallway, softly touching her belly. "August."

He turned to her.

"Thank you. For everything. For being a part of our lives—even if you are always late."

"Try not to pop until I bring a real-life Phoenix egg as a gift," August said with a wink, stepping backward. "And make sure Derrick doesn’t feed the baby that soup."

She laughed as he waved and walked off, hands in pockets.

...

...

Back in his room after a full day of being out, August booted up Ascendant Realms once again. The familiar sound welcomed him as he connected to the game.

<[ Logging In... Welcome, Aleman. ]>

He materialized in the preparation arena, where many players were still chatting or stretching or showing off fancy new equipment they had acquired during the break.

He was just in time... the final battles of the tournament were set to resume in fifteen minutes.

But he hadn’t even gotten two steps forward before a familiar voice called out—

"Aleman!"

He turned. It was Lilo, bounding over with a grin on her sharp-featured face. The brownish-red leather of her ranger armor gleamed with fresh polish.

"Where’ve you been, mystery man? You log off faster than someone who owes taxes!"

"I had to go visit some family," Aleman replied with a half-smile. "They’re in a bit of a delicate situation."

Lilo raised a brow. "Everything okay?"

"Not exactly," Aleman said. "But that’s my burden. What about you? Stocked up?"

She flashed two new daggers that shimmered with green enchantments. "Poisoned tips and shadow vines. I’m ready to make people cry."

Behind her, Valefinn the Knight and Jin Kuro the Dualblade Monk arrived.

"You’re cutting it close, Aleman," Jin said with a smirk. "We thought you bailed."

Aleman rolled his shoulders. "I’m not going anywhere. Especially not with that prize looming over our heads."

"Also, you missed something," Valefinn said, glancing around before lowering his voice. "They say some system anomaly occurred during the last round. Someone found a loophole in mount durability scaling."

Aleman frowned. "That shouldn’t be possible."

"Exactly," Lilo added. "But guess which party was involved."

Aleman exhaled sharply. "Oni?"

"Yep. Rumor is they tested a mount from their real-world underground facility and somehow managed to sync its traits with their in-game beast. Unfair doesn’t even begin to cover it."

Aleman looked up toward the floating tournament brackets.

"There’s a reason I have to win," he murmured. "Because I can’t let them keep gaining ground—in the game or out of it."

A system voice boomed across the sky.

"Welcome back, Champions! The tournament resumes shortly. Please make your way to the staging zones."

"Showtime," Valefinn muttered.

Aleman followed the group as they moved to their designated dome, passing by other competitors. Some glared while others nodded in respect.

Among them, Aleman spotted a mysterious cloaked figure with a serpent-headed staff.

He paused.

"Who’s that?" he asked Lilo.

She shrugged. "No idea. They weren’t in the last batch. But rumor says they’re from one of the secret invite guilds. Silent registration."

Aleman narrowed his eyes.

Something about that aura...

---

[You have received a direct whisper.]

Sender: Unknown

Message: "The elven monarch escaped because you messed with time. Aleman. We are watching."

Aleman’s hands tightened into fists. ’What the hell? How does anyone even know about that?’

Nonetheless, he had to go because the next phase of the tournament was beginning.

The arena was unlike any other phase before. Suspended in mid-air, five massive floating platforms spun slowly in a circular formation, glowing with ancient glyphs. A blinding column of light hovered in the center, like the eye of a magical storm, and lightning crackled above it. It was beautiful—and terrifying.

Above it all floated a glowing system announcement:

> [Final Phase: Group Clash | Teams of Five | Victory Condition: Capture the Heart Crystal or Eliminate All Opponents]