By now, the guards were already aware of his presence.

They rushed into position, dropping behind cover and opening fire with their automatic rifles.

This time, they were ready, which made things slightly harder.

Rapid gunshots tore through the air.

Francis slowed his steps instead of rushing in. He observed his surroundings, then flicked his foot against a loose rock.

The stone shot forward like a bullet and slammed into an electrical box on the wall. The entire building went dark.

He did not need to rely on his infrared eyes to deal with them, only his overwhelming speed.

One step, then gone.

He reached the first man before the rifle could adjust. His hand tore into the side. The man fell hard, screaming as he clutched the wound while blood slipped through his fingers.

Another guard turned, only to feel a sharp claw rake across his back, shredding his spine in an instant.

"SHOOT HIM!"

"DON’T LET HIM GET CLOSE!"

"FUCK HIM UP!"

More bullets came flying, but they did nothing to slow him down. The gap between them was too wide for even high-caliber guns to matter.

Soon, they escalated to RPGs.

A launcher swung up from behind cover. The rocket hissed out, cutting through the dark with a burning trail as it locked onto his position.

Francis moved at the last moment, angling his body to slip past the blast zone by a narrow margin.

BOOOM!

The explosion followed.

Heat and force rolled across the barn yard, tearing dust and debris into the air.

Francis used it.

The blast pushed against his back for a split second, and instead of resisting it, he let it carry him forward.

They barely had time to react before he landed within their range, his back still hissing from the heat.

What followed was not a clean fight. Bones and muscle gave way under his strikes, tearing apart anything organic in his path. The impact left no room for recovery.

Worst, it did not end quickly.

He made sure of that.

Each one was barely breathing to feel it, pinned between shock and pain, forced to bleed out in the dark while the rest of the slaughter continued around them.

THUD!

The last guard dropped before the echo of his own scream faded.

Francis straightened up and rolled his shoulder once. His body was covered in blood, making him look even more menacing.

No more came out of the barnyard, so either they had already run or he had taken out most of their manpower.

’Time to get the big fish—’ He stopped mid-sentence. His vibration sense caught a pulse.

Three distinct signals rose above the background noise.

They were steady, controlled, and completely free of hesitation, judging from their footsteps.

The signatures were not hiding. They were waiting.

A half second later, the air split open.

BRRRT

The gunfire came so fast it registered as a single continuous tear rather than individual shots.

He threw himself sideways, but two rounds hit him before he cleared the line of fire.

One grazed his left forearm, shearing skin and a thin layer of muscle clean off. The other punched through his right side, just below the ribs, and exited through his back.

He hit the ground behind a concrete divider and stayed low.

’That was fast.’

Not an exaggeration. Just a clean assessment.

He pressed two fingers against the exit wound and focused. The bleeding slowed as his tissue began responding, knitting inward.

Next, he used his Parasite Eyes and extended one past the corner at ground level, keeping them flat against the dirt.

Three figures stood in a loose triangle formation near the barn entrance.

The one in the center carried two heavy machine guns, one in each hand as if they were toys.

Blue lights ran along each weapon, marking them as Gamma Standard Weapons.

No wonder Francis reacted late.

The shooter stood at least six and a half feet tall, his body looking less like a person and more like a tank. The recoil that would normally send a human stumbling backward did nothing to him.

To his left stood a woman in formal wear. Dark braces ran along her body, and at her waist was a blade that didn’t match her appearance.

To the right stood a man in black suit. No visible weapon except for a pair of brass knuckles fitted over both hands.

His stance was the lowest of the three, weight distributed forward, ready to close distance the moment an opening appeared.

"Which organization sent you here?" she asked, tucking her brown hair behind her ear.

Francis did not reply. Conversation was not even on his mind. He was already calculating how many points they would be worth.

However, his silence was mistaken for weakness. The man with the machine guns opened fire.

BRRRRRRRT

The bullets tore into the walls, sending fragments flying and shaking the structure itself, forcing Francis to move.

He might be physically strong, but he was not indestructible.

’This is getting annoying,’ he muttered, picking up speed just enough to stay ahead of the hail of fire.

Then, right as they thought a shot had landed, his pace skyrocketed. The sudden burst caught all three off guard.

"SHIT!"

The woman drew her blade. It trembled as she swung, but it was stopped before it could build any momentum.

He caught her wrist, twisted it hard, and turned her own weapon against the gunner, slitting his throat in a single arc.

"Let go of her!" the man with knuckles shouted, throwing rapid punches. His fists blurred, hissing through the air as they came down.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

Each punch carried enough force to break through walls.

But to both of their shock, every strike was blocked with a single hand. Francis other hand stayed locked on the woman’s wrist, forcing her down onto her knees.

"Well, this is disappointing. I thought you were a big deal. Turns out all three of you are just nobodies."