Seasons had come and gone.
Spring had returned to the forests of Britain, but Ector's cabin remained thick with an ominous tension.
Six-year-old Kay.
Over the past year, he had changed a lot. Hardened by countless hunts, his muscular build hardly looked like it belonged to a six-year-old.
"Food! Food! Food!"
"Meat! Meat! Meat!"
He fed the eight baby beasts.
The children were now walking and even running around. It made no sense for their age, but then again, they weren't ordinary bloodlines.
With their increased activity came an exponentially larger appetite. A single bear that lasted two days? A tale that now seemed like a dream. These days, one bear was gone in a day without breaking a sweat.
"Food expenses… food expenses…"
With hollow eyes, Kay muttered as he wandered through the woods.
Ector was living and working at the forge full-time, so all the daytime hunting and childcare fell entirely on Kay.
In his hand was a dilapidated sword—its blade long worn dull, more a club than a weapon.
A new weapon? He would've had to sell it, so there was no choice.
It was then—
From a clearing in the woods came a grotesque cry.
Cock-a-doodle-doooo!
A roar that shook heaven and earth.
Kay's eyes snapped. That sound could only belong to a Bopal Chicken, known colloquially as the Murderous Fighting Rooster.
Two meters tall, a beak like steel, and a kick that could shatter stone—this monstrous bird.
But to Kay, it looked like an oversized chicken.
"Chicken… today's a chicken feast. Your big brother will pack up chicken for you—if I survive, that is."
Kay swallowed hard and pushed through the bushes.
In the center of the clearing stood a giant rooster, its red comb like a medal on its head. Its eyes gleamed with ferocity, and its leg muscles were as solid as tree trunks.
"Hey, birdbrain."
Kay called out.
The rooster turned its head. A six-year-old kid stood there wielding a club-like sword.
The rooster sneered. How dare a human child challenge me? The creature had already felled many humans.
It beat its wings and charged at Kay.
Flap! Flap! Flap!
Incredibly fast, its sharp beak lunged for the crown of Kay's head.
But Kay didn't dodge—he didn't need to. His body and eye reflexes, honed over a year fending off eight hungry siblings charging for food, had long since surpassed human limits.
"Too slow."
He tilted his head and sidestepped the beak.
Then he swung his sword at the rooster's neck.
Kaaang!
A metallic clang. Its feathers were harder than steel. The sword couldn't withstand the shock and snapped in two.
"…Damn."
Kay stared blankly at the broken hilt.
The rooster laughed mockingly.
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
It charged again, this time kicking with a sound that tore the air.
Wham!
Kay crossed his arms to block, but the impact sent him stumbling backward. His arm bones throbbed. Yet Kay's gaze didn't falter—instead, it blazed brighter.
"No weapon? Don't make me laugh."
He tossed the broken hilt aside and clenched his fists.
Over the past year, he'd hewn dozens of kilos of meat, smashed bones, changed diapers, and dealt with eight little King Arthurs—his six-year-old strength was ironclad.
And above all, the desperation of a boy who knew that if he failed, his home would vanish today.
"I have… an obligation to feed eighty servings!!"
He let out a battle cry and leapt into the rooster's grasp.
A bare-knuckle fight.
Every time the rooster pecked, Kay's shoulder and back splattered with blood. His clothes were shredded by its claws.
But Kay didn't stop; he grabbed the comb and climbed up.
"Tonight's dinner is chicken!"
Kay grabbed its back and rained down punches on its skull.
Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!
The rooster flailed wildly, jumping and rolling. Kay was thrown into mud and slammed into trees, but he never let go of the comb.
It was like a rodeo—no, a fight for survival.
"Die! Die! Die!"
The rooster's movements slowed.
That was his chance. Kay landed on the ground and drove between its legs.
With all his weight, the six-year-old unleashed a furious kick.
"Eat this! Head-of-household weight kick!!"
Crack!
It landed squarely on the rooster's breast.
The giant bird let out a shriek and collapsed.
Cock-a-doodle-doooo… cluck.
Silence.
Kay panted hard and sat atop the fallen bird. His body was soaked with blood and mud, but his face shone with triumph.
"…Got you."
He grabbed the giant leg and began dragging it.
A six-year-old pulling a monster chicken four times his size.
A strange aura curled from his back.
Watching from afar on solid ground was the magician in a white robe, Merlin.
"Hooh…"
He propped his chin on his hand, looking amused.
"He would have been fit for a mere knight under normal circumstances. But they say environment shapes a person—he's turning into a monster, isn't he?"
Ector's blood and the brutal childcare environment combined, and Kay was growing beyond his destined fate.
Merlin grinned, saying he was eager to see how strong the boy could become.
"I'm looking forward to it. I wonder just how powerful that child will get."
If Kay saw this, he'd tell Merlin to shut up and send more childcare money. After that thin pouch of gold on day one, Merlin hadn't sent a single coin.
Back at the cabin, Kay had no time to rest.
The instant he dumped the chicken in the yard, he grabbed a kukri-like kitchen knife.
"All right, time for prep."
Slice!
His feather-plucking was anything but amateurish—more like a pro's. He gutted it, separated the edible gizzard and liver, carefully removing the gallbladder without bursting it.
A dissection show separating bone and flesh. He cut the meat into large chunks for the pot and piled the bones separately.
"Bones are for tomorrow's stock. Today, let's fry just the meat and innards."
The fire roared, and the smell of fried chicken wafted up.
The scent was like a magical flute.
The cabin door flung open, and the eight children tumbled out in a herd.
"Meat! Meat!"
"I'm hungry! It's all mine!"
"Brother! Smells good!"
One by one, Artoria, Artoria Alter, Lily, Artoria Lancer, Artoria Lancer Alter, Artoria Caster, Artoria X, and Artoria X Alter filed in.
In a year, they'd grown by leaps and bounds. No longer crawling—they ran. With that came more noise and more destruction.
"Line up! No soup if you don't!"
At Kay's shout, they tentatively formed a line. The pecking order was clear—whoever serves is the king. Because they didn't know how to cook.
Kay placed well-fried chicken thigh meat and chewy gizzards into bowls.
Nom nom nom.
Gobble gobble—before he knew it, the two-meter chicken was gone.
Full bellies, the kids began running around the yard.
"Brother! Play with me!"
Lily grabbed Kay's arm and tugged. No rest in sight—after feeding came digestion time.
But the 'play' was no ordinary game of tag.
"If you get caught, you die!!"
The one 'it' was Artoria Lancer. She charged at them with a wooden stick as a spear, her eyes deadly serious.
"Hahaha!"
The children scattered. And Kay? He was judge, lifeguard, and impromptu bodyguard.
When Artoria leapt onto a tree, Artoria Alter tried to kick it down.
"Hey! Don't break that tree! It's firewood!"
Kay raced over and scooped Alter into his arms. Alter thrashed in his grip.
"Let go! I'm winning! I'm going to knock that blue one down!"
"Quiet. Fight among yourselves and you'll skip dinner."
At the threat of no dinner, Alter quieted—though she pinched Kay's cheek in protest.
Then Artoria X leapt from behind a tree and latched onto Kay's back.
"Get off! You're heavy!"
Kay tried to shake X off, but she hung on like a leech.
At that moment, Artoria Caster swung her staff.
"Wind!"
Whooosh—
A weak gust blew, but it missed its mark and sent the laundry—diapers and clothes—flying into the air.
"Aagh! My laundry!!"
Kay screamed and ran after the flying diapers.
The children, finding it hilarious, giggled as they chased him.
"Run, brother! Faster!"
The sun setting over the forests of Britain.
A six-year-old boy in bloodied clothes chased diapers, followed by eight superhuman toddlers—a bizarre scene.
Kay's lungs burned. His body felt like it would shatter. But those laughs behind him.
Those voices calling him 'brother.'
"…Damn. Is this what life's about?"
Kay let out a wry smile and picked up a diaper from the ground.
His shadow stretched long behind him—bigger and stronger than before.
That night.
After the children were all asleep, Kay came out to the yard and sharpened the broken sword on a whetstone. Since the long sword was busted, he'd repurpose it into a dagger.
Under the moonlight, Kay's muscles twitched subtly. His mana was nothing special—just average. He didn't wield an Excalibur-level weapon.
But he was growing stronger.
To survive this hellish childcare—and to protect this noisy family.