Not long after dawn, Kyle returned.
He carried a crude wooden cage on his shoulder, packed with twelve live chickens.
They were clucking and squawking chaotically, and one even let out a piercing crow that instantly jolted several people awake.
“What’s this?” Marcus asked, leaning in curiously.
“Chickens.”
“I know they’re chickens.
I’m asking why you bought them.”
“The boss wanted them last night.
He specified they had to be alive.”
Tom squatted in front of the cage and poked a finger through the slats.
A rooster lunged forward to peck him, and he jerked his hand back just in time.
“Why buy chickens?
To make stew?”
“No idea,” Kyle shrugged.
“The boss ordered them, so I bought them.
He said something about ‘Winner winner, chicken for breakfast.'” Kyle repeated Ivan’s words as best as he could.
“He also made a point of saying he wanted to kill them himself.”
“Kill them himself?” Tom was baffled.
“Yes, himself!”
Just then, Ivan appeared at the top of the stairs, with Remus Lupin following behind him.
“Kyle, you’re back.”
“Yes, boss!
Look, should I take care of the rest?
Killing chickens isn’t really the kind of work for someone like you.”
“No need.
There are some things you can only understand the answer to if you do them yourself,” Ivan said, his words thick with hidden meaning.
He pulled the small knife he had kept under his pillow earlier from his robe.
The blade glinted coldly in the morning light.
He walked over to the cage, reached in to grab a chicken, and pinned it against a wooden table.
With one clean, decisive stroke, the chicken’s head rolled away.
Blood sprayed out, splattering the table and Ivan’s hands.
The bird’s body continued to twitch, its wings flapping twice before going completely still.
Ivan ignored the blood splashing everywhere.
He was staring at the interface that only he could see.
A dim grey bar lit up slightly, shimmering with flecks of blue starlight.
Numbers appeared above it: [5/100]
“It really is an experience bar!”
Ivan burst into a happy laugh.
In the quiet morning, his laughter sounded distinctly manic.
“Hahaha!
I knew it!
I knew it!
Killing mobs to level up—the classics never go out of style!”
The onlookers were stunned.
What was wrong with their…
benefactor?
Are you sure they aren’t cursed?” Marcus whispered.
Kyle was also dumbfounded.
“What are you talking about?
How could my chickens be abnormal?
They were clearly priced at the Diagon Alley market.
Sixteen silver Sickles for the twelve of them—what kind of curse could they have?”
Ivan ignored them.
He tossed the dead chicken aside and reached for the second one.
The blade fell.
[10/100]
The third one—down went the knife.
[15/100]
The fourth, the fifth, the sixth!
He was on a killing spree.
His movements became faster and faster: grab the chicken, pin it down, strike, toss.
The entire process was as smooth as flowing water, practiced with a level of skill that didn’t look like a first-timer’s work at all.
Blood splattered onto his clothes and face, but he merely wiped it away with a casual swipe and moved on to the next one.
The others watched silently from behind him.
At first, it was curiosity, then confusion, and finally, a faint sense of dread.
This eleven-year-old boy didn’t even blink while slaughtering the birds.
A smile remained on his lips, and blood flowed down his wrists onto the floor, pooling into a dark puddle.
Tom swallowed hard.
He had worked as a laborer in Knockturn Alley for twelve years.
He had seen tough guys and he had seen lunatics, but he had never seen a child like this.
So young, yet his strikes were cleaner than any black-market thug he had ever encountered.
Grip and Greyback’s brother exchanged a secret glance.
Their werewolf instincts warned them of danger.
It wasn’t the pressure of raw strength, but something harder to define.
It was like seeing a cub whose eyes, while hunting, were already identical to those of an adult predator.
Lupin stood where he was, unmoving and silent.
He looked at Ivan’s back and the blood-stained floor, his mind flashing back to those empty potion bottles.
What exactly was this child going through?
And what path was he heading down?
Twelve chickens.
Ivan finished them all in less than five minutes.
He flicked the blood off his blade and looked at the experience bar: [60/100]
“Tsk, still too little,” he clicked his tongue, sounding disappointed.
Turning around, he saw the complex expressions on the faces of his subordinates—shock, confusion, and a newly surfaced layer of awe.
“What’s wrong?” Ivan tucked the knife back into his belt and flashed an innocent smile.
“Chicken for breakfast.
I’m a man of my word.”
No one responded.
Breakfast was a chicken feast.
Tom had volunteered to cook, but the resulting stewed chicken was salty and tough, while the roast chicken was half-burnt, lying on the plates like black charcoal.
He stood by the table with his head bowed, twisting his apron in his fingers.
“I’m sorry…
I’ve seen it done before, but I’ve never actually cooked…”
He tore off a piece of edible chicken, stuffed it into his mouth, chewed for a while, and then spat it out.
“Buy a cookbook next time.
Or…
do any of you know how to cook?”
The group looked at each other and shook their heads in unison.
“Alright then, let’s get down to business!” Ivan put the piece of meat back on the plate and clapped his hands.
Everyone immediately dropped their “charcoal.”
“In addition to continuing the purchase of potions and exchanging Galleons, we have a new task today: buying livestock.”
“Boss, do you want us to buy more chickens?” Kyle asked.
“Yes and no.
I don’t just want chickens.
I want ducks, fish, rabbits…
anything living that you can buy.
Doesn’t Knockturn Alley have black-market pet shops?
Buy everything they have that’s unwanted, dying, or just meant for food.”
Lupin’s brow furrowed.
“Boss, what do you need all that livestock for?”
“To improve our diet, of course.” Ivan’s smile was exceptionally sincere.
“Look at you all, you’re thin as sticks.
Former Aurors?
Werewolves?
Squibs?
None of you knew where your next meal was coming from before this.
From now on, we eat meat.
I’m going to nourish you properly.”
The excuse was blatant nonsense, but no one argued.
“Understood.
I’ll arrange it,” Lupin nodded.
“Also…
if you see any magical creatures, like Doxies or Gnomes, buy those too.
Price doesn’t matter,” Ivan added.
“Magical creatures?
Some of them can be dangerous,” Lupin warned, staring at him.
“That’s why we’re buying them.
Otherwise, how could we call it ‘improving our diet’?”
With that, Ivan turned and headed upstairs, leaving everyone staring at one another.
Marcus lowered his voice.
“Is the boss trying to open a slaughterhouse?”
“Shut it,” Kyle said, smacking the back of his head.
“If he tells you to buy, you buy.
Why so many questions?”
After breakfast, Lupin led the group out.
Ivan took a magic book he had pinched from his family’s collection out of his backpack and flipped through it lazily.
On his left, he had placed various delicious snacks he had bought earlier.
Since the main meal was inedible, he would just have to make do with snacks for now.