Sirens wailed through the broken streets.
Blue and red lights flashed against shattered windows and snow-covered roofs. Police vehicles blocked both ends of the road while officers moved carefully between damaged houses.
"Police! If anyone can hear us, come out slowly! We're here to provide aid!"
Flashlights cut through the night.
People began emerging.
Crying.
Shaking.
Some covered in blood that wasn't theirs.
The neighborhood no longer looked familiar.
It looked hunted.
Two officers approached the Adebayos' house carefully.
Front door gone.
Roof partially torn.
Windows shattered.
One of them raised his voice.
"Anyone inside! Announce yourself!"
In the basement, David opened his eyes.
"They're here," Ada whispered.
He nodded slowly.
His awareness was thin now — controlled — just enough to scan without provoking anything.
The bird was gone.
Far.
Circling somewhere beyond the main road.
Watching.
Waiting.
"Stay behind me," he told Ada.
They moved upstairs carefully. Snow had drifted into the living room. The air smelled like wood dust and iron.
David stepped through the broken doorway first, hands visible.
"We're here!" he called out.
Two officers rushed forward.
"You two alright?"
"For now," David answered.
Another officer moved toward Ada, checking her for injuries.
"You're lucky," the first one said quietly, glancing at the roof damage. "We've got multiple casualties down the block."
David didn't reply.
Because something shifted.
High above.
A ripple.
Cold.
Focused.
His spine locked.
No…
Not now.
The bird had felt him.
The moment he stepped fully into open air.
Its awareness snapped onto him like a hooked chain.
Pressure descended instantly.
Heavy.
Crushing.
The officers didn't understand awareness.
But they felt something.
The air changed.
"What the hell—?" one muttered.
People on the street looked up.
Snow lifted from the ground in swirling currents.
Then—
A shadow cut across the flashing police lights.
Screeeeeeech!!
It dropped from the clouds like a falling blade.
Wings folded.
Talons extended.
Straight toward David.
"GET DOWN!" an officer screamed.
Panic detonated across the street.
Civilians ran.
Police scrambled.
Guns raised.
But they were too slow.
The pressure alone forced several officers to their knees.
David's awareness flared on instinct.
Not outward.
Upward.
He saw it clearly now.
The golden eyes. Locked. Angry.
It remembered him.
Its claw descended.
Five feet away—
Four—
Three—
Then—
RATATATATATATATATAT!!
A machine gun roared from the left flank.
Not police issue.
Heavier.
Deeper.
Controlled bursts.
The bird twisted mid-air unnaturally fast. Bullets tore through feathers instead of skull. Black plumes scattered into the night.
It screeched in fury, wings snapping open violently, wind blasting officers backward.
But the gunfire didn't stop.
RATATATAT!
Each burst precise.
Tracking.
Suppressing.
David felt it then.
And his stomach dropped.
Another awareness.
Not 1.8.
Higher.
Much higher.
It wasn't chaotic like the bird.
It wasn't unstable like his.
It was layered.
Compressed.
Dense.
Like standing under a mountain that had decided to look at you.
His breath stuttered.
He almost pissed himself.
The bird felt it too.
Its wings faltered mid-air for a fraction of a second.
That was all it took.
Another burst of gunfire struck its shoulder joint.
Blood sprayed across police lights.
It screeched again — but this time not in dominance.
In warning.
The pressure changed.
The hunter was no longer at the top.
Every instinct in David screamed the same thing:
This presence was above the bird.
Above everything he had felt so far.
The machine gun finally stopped.
Smoke drifted from somewhere behind a flipped armored vehicle at the far end of the street.
Slow footsteps followed.
Measured.
Unhurried.
The bird hovered briefly.
Golden eyes scanning.
Then locking.
Not on David.
On the newcomer.
David swallowed.
He extended his awareness just a fraction toward that presence—
And immediately recoiled.
It felt like touching high voltage.
Controlled power.
Awareness easily above 2.0.
No strain.
No tremble.
Stable.
The bird shrieked and beat its wings violently, launching backward into the sky instead of diving again.
Retreat.
Not defeat.
But acknowledgment.
It climbed higher.
Circling once.
Twice.
Then vanished into cloud cover.
Silence fell.
Broken only by distant sirens and the crackle of snow under boots.
Officers were shouting into radios.
"What was that?!"
"Who fired that?!"
"Report!"
David didn't answer.
He couldn't.
Because the footsteps were closer now.
Out from behind the armored vehicle stepped a man in dark winter tactical gear.
No visible panic.
Machine gun resting against his shoulder like it weighed nothing.
Snowflakes melted before touching him.
Not from heat.
From pressure.
His awareness field was tight.
Refined.
David felt like prey standing near a larger predator.
The man's gaze scanned the damaged houses.
Then stopped.
On David.
Not aggressively.
Assessing.
David's pulse spiked.
He lowered his own awareness immediately.
Submission.
Instinctive.
The man tilted his head slightly.
He felt it.
"Interesting," the stranger said quietly.
His voice carried clearly despite the chaos.
One officer ran toward him.
"Sir! Identify yourself!"
The man didn't look away from David.
Instead, he spoke calmly.
"Evacuate this block. Now. It will return."
The officer hesitated.
"Return— what do you mean—"
"It marked him."
A small nod toward David.
Cold realization spread through the officers nearby.
David's jaw tightened.
Ada moved closer behind him.
The stranger finally shifted his gaze to the sky.
"It won't retreat far," he continued. "Not after being challenged twice."
Twice.
David felt that word land heavily.
First by him.
Second by this man.
Two challenges in one night.
The hierarchy had shifted.
But not resolved.
The officer swallowed.
"And you are?"
The man finally turned fully toward them.
Snow drifted sideways as his awareness expanded slightly — not as an attack.
As proof.
The air compressed.
Police radios crackled with interference.
David felt his knees weaken.
Clear.
Undeniable.
Above 2.0.
"Someone who hunts what hunts you," the man replied.
Then he looked at David again.
"You," he said evenly. "Stop pushing past your limit."
It wasn't advice.
It was instruction.
David nodded slowly.
Because he understood now.
Breaking into awareness barriers wasn't just sensing.
It was declaring war in a world that had levels he barely comprehended.
And tonight—
Something above the bird had stepped onto the board.
The sirens continued.
The snow kept falling.
But the neighborhood had crossed a line.
Predators were no longer myths.
They were ranking each other.
And David had just been seen. Hahaha don't be too scared it's like I'm gonna eat you,kid what's your name?but I am surprised in the block you are the only one high enough to sense me and the bird. Can I ask how? The more he looks at David the interesting he seems to him.