Without warning, Daryl moved. His dagger flashed.
A blade of wind ripped through the air and sliced straight through the beam where Francis was hiding a heartbeat earlier.
He burst upward with a frantic reaction, wings beating wildly. A sudden swerve sent him straight into a hanging pipe.
Feathers scattered as his tiny body bounced off and fluttered wildly across the rafters in a clumsy spiral.
The performance was perfect. To anyone watching, he looked like nothing more than a stupid bird startled by a sudden noise.
"What happened ?" one of them asked, gripping his rifle tighter.
Daryl slowly lowered his arm, his eyes still scanning the rafters.
"Nothing. Just a stupid bird."
Despite his comment, his gaze lingered on the shadows above a bit longer before he finally looked away.
High in the darkness, Francis settled silently onto another beam. His tiny chest rose and fell once.
However, instead of fear, excitement made his heart race. The moment he saw that attack, his system issued a new mission.
[Bonus Mission: Devour the Liver of a Special Category Human]
[Reward: Gain Their Innate Talent]
The same mission he received before appeared again, but this time, a real chance to complete it existed.
If he used his wits and timed it carefully, he could claim the liver once the casualties began.
And not just that—if the Defense Force sent another Special Category agent and, by some unlucky twist, they ended up killing each other, he could kill two birds with one stone.
Though, given his current form, the usual saying felt a little inappropriate.
'Did they make a move?'
A shiver ran through him—his bird senses tingled, the same way animals feel a storm brewing long before the first clouds appear.
A second later, the door exploded inward. Defense Force agents and law enforcers stormed in, weapons raised.
The terrorists struck back, firing indiscriminately. Bullets tore through walls and pinged off metal beams.
Civilians ducked, pressing themselves against crates for cover.
Francis stayed perfectly still, Then he saw it: Daryl. The dagger user moved like a shadow, dashing with unnatural speed.
He closed in on the nearest agent—a strike, meant to end the fight before it even started.
Before he could reach his target, a whip cracked through the air like thunder.
Sparks danced off the cement as the air snapped, forcing Daryl to pause and leap back.
A figure emerged slowly—a woman in a black-and-white jumper jacket, the DF logo were hard to miss.
Her brown eyes matched her hair, and her caramel-toned skin glowed in the dim light. Every flick of her whip carried enough force to snap a person in half.
"Defense Force! You're under arrest!" she shouted.
Daryl sneered, swinging his dagger to send a razor-sharp blade of wind toward her.
"Futile Resistance." Her whip lashed out, meeting every attack with perfect precision. The wind blades shattered on impact.
Realizing his long-range attacks were futile, he dashed forward, weaving through the deadly, chaotic arcs of her whip with lightning-fast reflexes.
The two elite fighters exchanged blows, each movement perfectly trying to find a weak point.
From Francis's point of view, both moved like superhumans, every strike were powerful—but compared to the spear user, they were still multiple levels behind.
It seemed that even among Special Category humans, a clear hierarchy of strength existed. For now, he labeled these two as Low Rank, while the spear user stayed at High.
The whip cracked again. Daryl lunged, faster than most eyes could follow, but his opponent was ready.
She flipped backward, whip hissing like lightning, forcing him to skid across the floor.
Daryl recovered instantly, dagger whirling in his hand as he launched back into the attack.
The woman's whip arced toward him in a blur, each strike a deadly wall of force—but he slipped through the gaps, striking at angles that would have shredded any ordinary bloke.
They moved together into a more open space, far from their respective groups, where the chaos of gunfire and shouting faded into the background.
"That enough warm-up. Time to fight for real," Daryl growled, adjusting his stance for maximum agility.