The instant David broke through the barrier—
Something shifted.
Not slightly.
Not gradually.
Violently.
His Awareness didn't just stabilize.
It surged.
Past 1.50.
Past the point he had forced before.
It didn't feel like strain anymore.
It felt clear.
Sharp.
Expanded.
Awareness: 1.62
The number didn't appear visually.
He just knew.
The space around him unfolded.
Layers of sound separated.
Air pressure mapped itself.
Snow currents became visible patterns in his perception.
For one breath—
Everything made sense.
Then—
He felt it.
A lock.
Not physical.
Not touch.
But absolute.
Like a predator's gaze snapping into place.
His nerves screamed.
Every hair on his body stood upright.
Above the house—
The bird's golden eye flashed.
Bright.
Focused.
Target acquired.
"Shit."
Ada grabbed his arm.
"David, what's wrong?"
His voice came out tight.
"I think… I just provoked it."
"What?!"
He didn't answer.
Because at that exact moment—
The bird adjusted its body midair.
Wings pulling in.
Massive frame tilting downward.
Free fall position.
No more circling.
No more warning.
Impact trajectory calculated by instinct.
The air outside compressed.
Snow spiraled violently upward from the downdraft.
"It's diving!" David shouted.
Mr. Adebayo looked up.
"What do we—"
He didn't finish.
The sound of displacement tore through the night.
The bird wasn't flapping.
It was dropping.
Fast.
Too fast.
Panic finally broke the room.
Mrs. Adebayo stepped backward.
Ada's breathing lost rhythm.
"David, what do we do? What do we do?!"
But David wasn't frozen.
Not anymore.
Because at 1.62—
He could feel the angle.
The velocity.
The exact point of impact.
The roof above the living room.
Three seconds.
Two.
One—One—"
David moved.
Not thinking.
Not calculating.
Just reacting.
He grabbed Ada around the waist and tackled her sideways across the living room floor.
They hit hard.
The breath knocked out of her lungs.
At that exact second—
Impact.
The roof exploded inward.
Wood shattered like paper.
Metal sheets tore free.
A violent shockwave blasted through the house as the bird's massive body smashed through the ceiling.
Snow and debris rained down in a white storm.
The floor trembled.
Glass burst from the windows.
Mr. Adebayo was thrown against the wall.
Mrs. Adebayo screamed as part of the ceiling collapsed where they had been standing moments earlier.
The bird didn't flap.
It landed.
Talons punched through tile and concrete with a deafening crack.
Its wings expanded fully inside the ruined living room, knocking furniture aside like toys.
Golden eyes snapped downward.
Searching.
Locked.
David rolled, pulling Ada behind the overturned couch just as one massive talon struck the ground where they had been.
Concrete fractured.
Dust filled the air.
Ada coughed violently.
"David—!"
"I'm fine," he muttered, though his ears rang sharply.
The bird's head lowered.
It wasn't confused.
It wasn't wild.
It was focused.
The challenger was still alive.
Its golden gaze scanned through debris.
Then stopped.
On him.
David felt it again.
That territorial pressure.
He had broken into its awareness.
Now it was inside his space.
The bird screeched — not mystical, not amplified — just pure, bone-rattling force.
It adjusted its weight.
Preparing to strike again.
Mr. Adebayo staggered to his feet, gripping the axe despite the tremor in his arms.
"Get out of the house!" he shouted.
But there was no clean path.
The doorway was blocked by fallen beams.
Snow continued pouring in from the open roof.
The giant bird stepped forward once.
The floor cracked beneath its talon.
Golden eyes narrowed.
It had chosen its target.
David."Damn it! Dad, we can't go outside — we'd be easy pickings. Let's go deeper inside. The police should be here soon."