I'm an Extra, so What?
Chapter 120 - 120: The Annual Elf-Human Showdown (9)

A thick fog of silence blanketed the field as both teams stood at the center of the final arena.

Hide and Seek—

Three rounds.

Each team would take turns hiding and seeking.

The team with the best two out of three rounds would be declared the overall winner.

The arena this time was massive—miles of enchanted forest conjured by illusion magic, complete with valleys, caves, tree canopies, rivers, and ruins.

Every inch pulsed with sensory confusion: false sounds, false lights, even false footprints. It wasn't just about hiding—it was about deceiving, enduring, and outlasting your pursuers.

The teams stood opposite one another, the faint shimmer of enchantment already crackling at their feet.

Gregor adjusted his shoulder pauldrons. "Never thought we'd end the showdown with a childhood game."

"Childhood game for you," Luka said, tying his quiver into place. "For me, it's just another day in the woods."

Arthur scoffed beside them, arms crossed, eyes locked on the elven team like they'd personally insulted his sword. "I say we just smoke them out."

"You would," Luka muttered under his breath.

Serene stood behind Luka with her arms folded. She wasn't part of the official team, but she might as well have been.

Her sharp gaze never left Arthur.

Ever since the sabotage incident, she'd watched him like one might a misbehaving dog—expecting trouble, not trusting for a moment that it was done.

Across the field, the elves looked calm, as usual.

Eledrin rolled his shoulders. Ardyn leaned on a branch, grinning. Vaelor stood with serene stillness.

And Nuvian, radiant and poised, regarded the humans with distant amusement—as if watching a performance that no longer surprised her.

A horn blew overhead.

Round One: Humans Seek, Elves Hide.

The field shimmered, and the humans were temporarily sealed inside a translucent bubble while the elves vanished into the artificial wilderness.

A countdown hovered above them: 5 minutes to release.

Arthur paced like a caged animal. "This is dumb. They should just fight us. That's what this was about in the beginning."

Gregor leaned on a tree. "Just be quiet, please."

"What was that, tub of lard?"

"Enough," Luka said, quietly.

He was sitting cross-legged in the center, eyes closed. "Focus on what matters. Let them hide. We find them, we win."

Arthur huffed and turned away.

When the countdown hit zero, the barrier dropped—and the humans charged forward into the terrain.

Immediately, chaos unfolded.

Arthur, in typical fashion, charged ahead without any plan. "I'll take north!"

"You don't even know which way north is!" Luka shouted, already vanishing into the brush with a quiet whisper of movement.

Gregor, trudging into a ravine, took a more brute-force approach—shouting, slamming trees, trying to flush someone out. It wasn't elegant, but it covered ground.

Within minutes, Luka was already mapping the environment in his mind.

Tracks here—false.

Sounds there—bait spells.

Someone had scattered magical feathers as decoys.

Smart.

That screamed Ardyn.

He followed a stream downhill, checking under a rocky outcrop.

'Aha—Vaelor.'

Patient, unmoving, trying to blend into stone.

A quick pulse of capture magic flared.

One elf down.

Gregor, surprisingly, managed to corner Eldrin by sheer accident after crashing through a moss-covered wall into a hidden burrow. Luka had to give him credit—it worked.

But the final two…

Ardyn was elusive. Nuvian, impossible.

Arthur? Useless.

Instead of coordinating, Arthur had spent half the match chasing after illusions, slicing at butterflies and screaming threats into empty trees.

At one point, he even triggered a trap Nuvian had left behind and spent five minutes hanging upside down by a snare, screaming for someone to cut him down.

Luka eventually found Ardyn by tracking the pattern of his own illusions—an invisible echo loop he had used before. A clever setup, but not clever enough.

Only Nuvian remained.

And she stayed hidden until the very last minute, emerging on her own once time ran out—untouched.

Round One: Humans – 4 captures. Elves – 1 survivor.

A narrow win.

Round Two: Elves Seek, Humans Hide.

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Now came the challenge.

Could the humans survive?

Arthur sulked beneath a tree. "If they find me, I'll just knock them out."

"You do that, you'll disqualify us," Luka replied, scanning the terrain for high points. "This is about stealth and patience. You're bad at both."

Arthur growled. "You're lucky I haven't—"

But Luka was already gone.

He didn't hide in the trees.

Too expected.

Instead, he buried himself in a shallow grave under leaves, channeling a rare camouflage charm he'd saved since the first event.

Gregor found a natural pit and used a broken log to create a crude shelter, breathing slowly.

Arthur?

He wandered until he saw what looked like a "good spot" (a hollow tree), then loudly thudded inside and fell asleep, snoring within two minutes.

The elves began their hunt with elegance and eerie coordination.

Eledrin swept the southern cliff edges.

Ardyn moved like mist, pressing into shadows. Vaelor marched steadily forward, flushing spaces methodically.

And Nuvian glided between ruins and roots, unhurried, listening.

They found Gregor first—ten minutes in.

A stray cough gave him away.

Arthur was next.

Nuvian personally opened the hollow tree like a lid on a pot and found him drooling inside.

She sighed. "What a disappointment."

Luka held out the longest.

Even with illusions sweeping the area and Ardyn deploying scent-scrambling charms, they couldn't quite lock onto him.

Until Nuvian paused.

She stood completely still.

Tilted her head.

Closed her eyes.

Then smiled.

She walked a straight line. Past roots, rocks, and bushes—toward Luka's hiding place. Without even looking down, she said, "Found you."

Luka sighed and emerged, brushing dirt from his sleeves. "How?"

"You weren't breathing. No animal holds its breath that long."

He had to smile. "Not bad."

Round Two: Elves – full capture.

Tied, 1–1

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Round Three: Both Teams Hide.

A Simultaneous Round. First Team to Find All Opponents Wins.

Tension blanketed the arena.

This was it.

Luka and Gregor huddled briefly to strategize.

Arthur stood off to the side, arms folded. "Don't need a plan. I'll find them on my own."

"We're not counting on you," Luka said flatly. "Just stay out of the way."

Both teams vanished.

The terrain shifted again—becoming more mountainous, mist curling around jagged stones.

The hunt began.

Luka ignored Arthur entirely and partnered with Gregor, dividing the area into grids.

They worked systematically, with Luka decoding illusions and Gregor using brute force to break traps.

They found Eledrin first, then Eldrin shortly after. It was going well.

Arthur, meanwhile, screamed bloody murder after walking into a beehive.

Again, not part of the challenge—just a hazard he refused to see.

Vaelor found him mid-scream and tagged him immediately. Easy prey.

Gregor was caught shortly after by a collapsing terrain charm.

It came down to Luka—alone—and Ardyn and Nuvian on the other side.

But Luka was done playing cautiously.

He doubled back, used Arthur's scent trail to bait Ardyn into a false ambush, and caught him off guard.

Only Nuvian remained.

And they both knew it.

They met in the heart of the ruined temple, where glowing vines hung from archways and birds circled overhead.

"I suppose it had to be us," she said.

Luka nodded. "Let's end this."

They didn't fight—not with fists. But with wits. With moves. With positioning.

They ran, darted, baited, vanished, reappeared.

In the end, it was Luka's misdirection—using his own reflection on a water surface to lure her gaze—that gave him the moment he needed.

He tagged her shoulder.

Final Round: Humans win.

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The crowd erupted as the results were posted:

"BOOOOOOO!!!"

Humans: 2 wins. Elves: 1 win.

The Annual Elf-Human Showdown was over.

Arthur stormed off before the final tally was even read aloud.

He had contributed nothing, failed publicly, and been shown up at every turn.

Nuvian passed Luka on her way.

"You're wasted on them," she said, quietly. "You know that, don't you?"

Luka shrugged. "I'm used to it."

He turned and walked away, Serene falling into step beside him.

"Do you want me to slap him?" she asked, glancing toward Arthur.

"Don't waste the effort…" Luka sighed.

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Where once flags of challenge and roaring crowds defined the air, now colored lanterns floated overhead like drifting stars.

Music filled the space — not the martial drums of war games, but light flutes and harps, woven with chimes and gentle lutes.

Laughter and conversation filled the air.

The Annual Elf-Human Showdown was officially over.

Now came the Festival of Unity.

Dozens of stalls lined the edges of the forest glade.

Elf children chased glowing butterflies conjured from pockets of simple magic.

Luka stood just beyond the edge of it all, leaning quietly against an old tree as the lights flickered over his face.

He didn't like crowds.

He didn't hate them either.

But he always found himself on the edges of things, not quite part of the noise, not quite separate from it.

Gregor had vanished somewhere near the meat stalls, Serene was likely watching from a shaded tent with arms crossed, and Arthur—

Well.

Arthur wasn't here.

Not that Luka expected him to be.

Just as he was about to head back to his temporary quarters, a shadow zipped by his leg.

Then again.

Something tugged at the hem of his coat.

He looked down.

No one there.

Then—

"Boo!"

Luka didn't flinch.

But he did look down to see a very smug, grinning little elf girl looking up at him.

"Ahshala," Luka said evenly. "Weren't you grounded?"

"I'm always grounded," she said cheerfully. "But I'm also very small. No one sees me leave!"

She held up the cookie toward him. "Want some?"

"No, thank you."

"Good." She shoved more of it in her mouth. Crumbs exploded everywhere. "You're tall," she mumbled.

"And you're loud."

"I'm young," she said, proudly brushing crumbs off her tunic. "And I'm not loud, I'm musical."

Luka quirked an eyebrow. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see my favorite human."

He paused. "There are… other humans?"

"Sure," she shrugged. "But they're boring. You're cool. You threw the angry one off a platform."

Luka coughed to cover a chuckle. "I tripped."

"No you didn't." She giggled. "I saw it. And I drew it!"

She pulled out a tiny scrap of paper.

It was a crude drawing, probably done with crushed berries and ash.

A stick figure labeled Luka was pushing another stick figure labeled Jerk off a square labeled battle cloud thingy.

It was surprisingly accurate.

"I'm going to frame it," she said solemnly.

"I'm flattered."

"You should be!" She stood tall. Or as tall as her tiny body could. "Also, you have to come with me."

"Why?"

"I snuck into the dessert tent," she whispered like it was state treason:

"They have moonberry tarts. The chefs said I wasn't allowed more but you're a 'diplomatic guest' and you can get as many as you want."

"Ahshala—"

She grabbed his hand:

"C'mon! Pleaaaase?"