Zane had seen plenty of horror movies. He knew never to split the group, that sounds in the dark of the night were probably ax murderers, and all mysterious metal coffins were definitely more trouble than they were worth. Especially the ones with something moving around inside of them.

Daisy was unaware of any such tropes. She wanted to eat whatever was inside the strangely shaped metal box. It reeked of light in a way that made her salivate. She started nibbling along the metal seam like a can opener.

To her disappointment, what she found inside was also made of metal. Daisy stomped off in a huff, shaking the ground as she went. A pair of skeletal metal hands grasped the sides of the coffin as the occupant slowly pulled themselves into a seated position.

The chef wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He watched as the steampunk skeleton checked itself over for damage. There was a mix of different metals, as well as a fair bit of wiring that looked awfully like veins and arteries. The skull was definitely humanoid.

It looked at him, but made no move to attack. Finally, the skeleton spoke. “Whose dick do I have to suck around here to get a quart of oil?” it asked.

There were many things Zane had expected to find that day. Foul mouthed knockoff terminators wasn't one of them.

He sighed. “Are you a friendly robot, or are you an abomination that, now awakened, will try and take over the world.”

“Baby, for a pint of oil, I'll be whoever you want.” the skeleton said with a leer. Someone had seen fit to give it eyebrows. It waggled them at him in a way that was incredibly lewd.

Zane shook his head. “Come on, Groucho. Let's get back to the restaurant so I can fix whatever is wrong with you.”

Groucho frowned. “There's nothing wrong with me. Besides a lack of lubrication and stimulation, I'm operating as intended.”

“What kind of class do you have?” Zane asked. He could use a builder bot. Though his money was on some kind of extremely deviant sex toy.

“I'm a bard,” Groucho replied with a touch of pride in his mechanical voice.

“Figures,” Zane said as he hopped up on his horse. “You can come back with us, but if you go all murderbot, I'll put your ball bearings in a vise.”

The skeleton shuddered. “Fine, I'll resist the urge to kill. For now.”

The young man decided to take what he could get. “That works for me. Now, let's get moving. I want to get home before dark.”

Groucho saluted and started to march forward. He wasn't sure what to make of Zane. The chef didn't seem particularly threatened by him, yet Zane had hinted that he knew what Groucho’s true purpose was.

The killbot continued to walk forward on squeaky knees. I really need to do something about that, he thought. It was really hard to sneak up on someone and steal their skin when your knees creaked.

***

They got halfway home before trouble reared its ugly head. Two cultivators in black robes were walking down the road towards them. Zane felt his nose twitch, usually they traveled in groups of three.

He didn't wait to be challenged, vaulting off his horse and running towards them at lightning speed instead. The unexpected movement saved his life as an arrow passed through where he had just been.

The cultivators were shouting, but he ignored them. Zane identified where the arrow had come from, and made a detour. With a burst of speed he drew on his lower core, and closed on the bowman.

“Oh shit!” called out the cultivator as a meat cleaver flew at him and embedded in his chest. He looked down at the weapon dumbly before it vanished, leaving a bleeding hole behind. A rush of essence told the chef that his quarry was finished.

Zane knew a bit about how to use a bow from his life before, but hadn't practiced in years. He plucked the weapon from the dead man’s unresisting hands, nocked an arrow, and took aim.

His attack went comically wide. The two remaining cultivators charged at him in an attempt to close the distance. He continued to nock arrows and shoot at the approaching cultivators. It seemed like a waste, but Zane didn't care if he actually hit them.

One of the cultivators dodged an arrow only to feel a cleaver thud into his chest. As he fell, he watched his companion experience Zane’s new technique. A cleaver covered in slick black shadows streaked towards his friend.

The cultivator threw up a shield, but it wasn't enough to stop the blade. It chewed through his feeble attempts at defense and went right for his essence core. There was a crack like sundered stone, then the man exploded.

Zane nodded to himself in appreciation as the cultivator became a crater. Using Death Siphon to attack an enemy’s core directly was incredibly effective. It cost him a decent amount of energy, and he missed out on absorbing any essence. But you couldn't argue with the results. He tossed the bowman's corpse into the road for Daisy to eat and rejoined his companions.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

The metal skeleton’s jaw was hanging open with shock. Groucho had never seen such a powerful dark technique. To sunder an enemy’s core with a single blow was the stuff of legends. The killbot got down on both knees and bowed before his new dark lord.

Zane watched in amusement as the skeleton touched his forehead to the ground, and stayed there. He waited, the seconds dragging out uncomfortably. “You can get up now,” Zane said.

“I'd love to,” Groucho informed him, “But I think my knees are stuck.”

***

Lily felt an ethereal shock wave ripple through the mountain. To her advanced senses it was like an earthquake spreading outward from the site of great destruction.

“A dark technique…” she whispered, eyes locked on a spot further up the mountain. Whatever had just happened, Lily was incredibly happy to not be involved. In fact, she made a beeline for Hero’s Step.

The cultivator had intended to explore the hills above the city. But if something was using dark techniques, she shuddered at the thought of being on the receiving end of such a thing. No, it was much better to stay in the city.

Maybe she could even get a bite to eat.

***

Zane wasn't sure how the city guards would handle a six foot tall metal skeleton, so he decided not to risk it. Groucho went inside the storage bracelet, and they passed through the checkpoint without a hitch.

The chef grabbed some fresh vegetables and meat for dinner. He wasn't sure if finding Groucho qualified as a win. Zane expected he would need to pound the robot into scrap metal when it inevitably malfunctioned and started killing people.

The way it had looked at the corpses with such longing made Zane feel slightly uneasy. But, he could understand the idea of a machine wanting to become flesh and blood. If that was indeed what was happening.

Pinky’s reaction to Groucho surprised Zane. Her eyes went wide as she poked and prodded the killbot. “Woah, this thing is old. Like, thousands of years old. We lost the technology to make them sometime around the Pato Dynasty.”

“I wasn't aware you were into robots,” Zane said.

“It's not that impressive. Everyone knows about the fall of the Pato Dynasty,” Pinky replied as she scrubbed at a brass plate welded to the back of Groucho’s skull, “Yep, this is a genuine pre-conquest shrine guardian. I'm amazed it didn't try and attack you.”

“I thought about it,” Groucho admitted, “But then I saw the Master sunder a cultivator’s core with a single strike. Something like that has a way of dissuading a person from violent behavior.”

Pinky looked at Zane with a raised eyebrow. He filled her in on the details of his brief encounter with the cultivators. She didn't blame Zane for making the first move. They had tried to ambush him, after all.

She turned her attention back to Groucho. Shrine guardians in working condition were incredibly rare. Most of them were locked in guard routines and attacked anyone they came across. But not this one.

“Why were you sealed in that casket?” Pinky asked.

“Um, well…” the killbot shifted uncomfortably, “I was an attempt by the creator to make constructs that seemed more human.”

“And?” Pinky pressed.

Groucho’s shoulders slouched. “It worked. But the creator thought I was annoying, so he put me on time out.”

Zane could sympathize. He was pretty sure his teachers would have locked him in a box, if they could get away with it. “Well, I'm sure we can find a place for you here, assuming you behave and don't cause too much trouble. Can you use a knife?”

Rainbow blades made of pure essence appeared at the tips of Groucho's fingers, then disappeared. The killbot looked at his hands with disappointment.

“It's alright,” Pinky assured him, “At your age, there are bound to be some ‘functional’ issues.”

Groucho looked about ready to murder someone. (But not with his claws, because they weren't working.)

“Actually,” Zane said as he went to grab the bottle of cleansing pills, “I might have something for that.”

***

They made the executive decision to put Groucho out in the stables before they gave him the pill. Zane also summoned a few appropriately sized tubs and filled them with warm water.

The killbot had a mouth and something that could pass for a stomach. In theory he could eat things besides the metal discs that his body used to repair itself. Groucho looked at the green tablet questioningly. “What exactly is going to happen if I take this?”

“Well,” Zane said, “At first you'll feel terrible, then you'll feel a whole lot better.”

Groucho took the pill and swallowed it. “If you meatbags can handle it, I can handle it,” he boasted, “After all, how bad can it be?”

***

“Groucho sure swears a lot,” Zane remarked as he cooked dinner. The food was almost done, now it had to simmer.

Pinky sidled over to him. “I've been meaning to ask, what kind of name is ‘Groucho’?”

“Oh, he was a famous old comedian back where I'm from,” Zane waggled his eyebrows, “I used to watch his movies for free online because they were out of copyright.”

The chef stopped and sniffed the air. His new nose was telling him all kinds of interesting things. For starters, Pinky had bathed herself in rose water before he came home.

“You smell delicious,” Zane said as he lifted her up onto the counter top, “Good enough to eat.”

Pinky gave him a mischievous look as she opened her robes. “That was my intention.”

Zane was torn. He had planned to serve dinner in a certain order, with strict timing, to maximize the enjoyment of every dish. He sighed and removed the simmering pot from the stove so it wouldn't burn.

The kitsune smiled at Zane's idiosyncrasies. He was always so poised. The chef never seemed to lose control, even when he was killing people. She both loved, and hated that about him. It was too easy to assume that he didn't care about anything.

But Zane had stopped what he was doing and made time for her. That meant he cared, even if he didn't always express it in the ways she liked. Pinky leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead. She knew he cared, and that was enough for her.