The warlock dropped down as he felt himself teleport. His armour stopped working, cooling down before the metal melted. The smell of rotten flesh emanating from the warlock was replaced by the acrid smell of boiled ashes. His already fragile body was only held together by the several demons that drained away the warlock’s life-force. He pushed his hand forward, watching as his fingers extended one by one just so he could heal the man in black.

“Where did you teleport us?” The warlock asked after dropping his arm down.

“Our main guildhouse. Stay here, I’ll find someone to carry you in.” The warlock let his entire body drop down as the man in black ran into the guildhouse. He should’ve chosen a better guildhouse. France was almost entirely devoid of adventurers, and especially healers or smiths. The warlock was already thinking about the battle he had, and where he could’ve done better. The demons that blessed him with genius battle adaptation made sure he would know exactly what he did wrong given enough time, and how to correct his mistakes. The next fight he would have against the demon and paladin had to go in his favour. He couldn’t afford to lose another bounty.

Everyone else was sleeping as I kept the demoness busy. The demoness wanted to stay in the tavern all day, but the employees quickly reminded her that the place actually closed when everyone’s shift ended. The demoness, unphased by such a small inconvenience, brought me to the kitchen to cook with her.

“You know I don’t know how to cook right? I’m a war robot. I don’t have data on recipes.” I said in a vain attempt to escape having to cook with her.

“Bullshit! Every robot knows how to cook. Like… don’t you just need to set something on fire to cook it?” The demoness said.

“You can do that if you’re okay with eating burnt food.” She smiled after I said that.

“Burnt food is the best food! It’s like pain but for your mouth.” Why wasn’t I shocked that the demon princess of pain was a masochist? I didn’t want to replace my taste pallet again so I could eat whatever she’d deem as tasty, so I had to intervene.

“How about we make something that isn’t painful to eat? I personally don’t like pain.” The demoness looked at me with a look of suspicion before opening the freezer. It was surprisingly cold considering how low tech it was. A giant block of ice was stored above, and it cooled down the air while insulation kept the wood from leaking the coldness out.

“What can we even make? They only got potatoes and meat.” I looked over her shoulder and she was entirely right. The fridge was tiny because this tavern didn’t sell much food. No tavern mainly sold food though.

“Get the meat and a bag of potatoes out. The waxy ones. I’ve got an idea.” I said. If I had to praise french food on something, it would be that it manages to make something simplistic good. Other cultures have way better food, but they actually spice it. We didn’t have the luxury of spice, so we had to fall back on French cooking. We were missing one ingredient though.

“Before you ask, I cannot create an onion.” Said the nano-chatte. The nano-chatte could revive people but not create an onion? No. That didn’t make sense. It probably said it because it wanted to laze around after reviving one person and healing three others from the brink of death.

“Why would you need to make an onion? Just steal it.” Said the demoness.

“If you can steal an onion without getting noticed, I’ll allow it.” The demoness quickly rushed out the door leaving me alone. I got a pot out and threw longs into the pit of ashes below the slab of stone, before lighting it up with my flamethrower hand. I quickly put the pot on the slab and chopped up the beef into chunks before throwing them into the pot.

“I got it!” The demoness screamed before I put my finger up to her mouth to shush her.

“People are sleeping, dumbass. Don’t scream.” I went back to the pot, letting the fond build up. “Alright, chop the onion. It doesn’t matter how you do it.” She cut the onion into quarters before chopping at random. Some onion chunks were big, some were flat and long, but most were tiny. I chopped the potatoes into same sized chunks, with most of them being cut into eighths.

“I know this one. We put it in and stir.” She went to put the onions into the same pot as the beef before I stopped her.

“Not this one. Another pan.” She got a pan and put it right next to the pot on the hot stone. The onions sizzled furiously as she put them in the pan. I stopped chopping to drop some oil in, and went right back.

“Isn’t the beef getting burnt?” I looked over and stirred a little bit. The fond wasn’t built up fully yet.

“No. Don’t worry. Keep stirring the onions by the way.” I finished chopping the potatoes and grabbed some wine to deglaze the fond with, before filling it up close to the brim with water. I got inpatient after a minute and tossed the onions and potatoes in. “Alright, we just gotta wait now.”

“What are we even making?” She asked.

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“Roast beef, or some bastardised version of it.” She grabbed a spoon to get a taste. Normally I’d stop anyone stupid enough to taste a spoonful of boiling sauce, but she could probably take it.

“Huh… Is beef some earth exclusive thing?” Has she never tasted beef before? What a horrible existence she’s lived.

“Have you never tasted beef before?” She crossed her arms and pouted.

“No? I only eat monsters or adventurers that get in my way.” I sighed as she got right up in my face. “But they were really good tasting monsters! I bet you haven’t eaten a gryphon before.”

“Do they get tastier the stronger they are?” I said.

“Obviously. The stronger it is the better.” She said while puffing herself up.

“So you’re tastier than me? Since you’re stronger.” She thought for a bit, and then nodded. “And your father is even tastier than you.” She immediately shook her head.

“Nevermind. Everything tastes the same anyway. They either taste like humans or like dragons.” She had two odd examples, but she was right. Everything either tasted like chicken or pork.

“Do you have something against your dad? Other than him not saving you from slavery.” I said.

“That’s not even the main problem. He couldn’t destroy the entire Scarlet Emporium to get me. I also wouldn’t have gotten to meet you if he did get me back. The problem is that he’s just too paranoid!” She leaned into the wall, only to be stopped by the still very present chains in her back. “I need to take these out one day.”

“Hold on, so your problem with him is his paranoia?” She nodded.

“Well, yea? He wants to know everything. I couldn’t even take a step without him knowing I did it. I’m kinda surprised he hasn’t sent someone to try and kill you yet.”

“You can’t just say that and not elaborate.” I said.

“Why? Can’t you search it up in your robot brain?” The nano-chatte couldn’t be bothered doing anything right now, so no, I couldn’t.

“I like it better when it’s your voice explaining it.” She grinned as I said that.

“You like my voice?” She finally let out the laugh she was keeping in. “You’re joking right?” Did she know something I didn’t? Sure, her voice did sound a bit raspy, but it wasn’t anything egregious.

“What’s the problem with your voice?” She raised her eyebrow after I said that.

“There’s no problem with it. It’s just not good.” I put my finger on her lips to shush her again.

“Shush. It’s perfect. Even if it isn’t, I’d rather listen to it rather than my robotic internal monologue.” I said.

“If you like it so much, then why did you shush me?” She swats my hand away.

“Just tell me already.”

“Fine. When a demon fights a non-demon, and the non-demon manages to satisfy the demon, they are forced to marry. My dad wouldn’t want some nobody from a nowhere world to marry his daughter, so he’d try to kill you. I mean, we’re not married anyway since the other girl owns you.” My eyes widened as she said that.

“How do you know that?” I said.

“It’s obvious. She was the one that gave me permission to do whatever I wanted with you after we repay back the emporium.” She was smarter than she looked.

“Do the non-demons have a choice?” The demoness shrugs.

“I don’t know. Dad didn’t tell me much other than that, and every guy he wanted me to fall for was a pushover, so I didn’t get to see what’d happen. I swear, everyone that doesn't experience the pain of being challenged is the same. They always use their special ability on you, and then crumble when it fails.” That was blatantly false. You just needed someone will-full and good enough to be powerful and they’d end up as a superman figure. They wouldn’t need to be challenged everyday just to try their hardest to defeat someone.

“It’s not all of them. You haven’t searched hard enough. Your dad wants you to marry someone who’s ‘respectable’, and his definition of respectable probably excludes people who fight all day or that aren’t pompous.” I said.

“And that’s the problem! They never fight someone on their level, so they’re boring to fight. Like, you’re way weaker than them. I could crush you with enough effort, but you’d fight like hell the entire time. You’d blow me up a thousand different ways and always surprise me.” I genuinely felt touched by the compliments. They weren’t like the ones the Revifier gave, which were disingenuous at best. She was entirely honest.

“Thanks?” I said before she chuckled.

“Do robots get flustered? Don’t answer that. Whatever you made is done.” She grabbed the pot and placed it on the wooden table before I tossed two bowls at her which she managed to catch. She just scooped up a bunch of the roast beef with the bowls and tossed one of them right back at me.

“If it’s not good, blame the French.” I said before taking a spoonful and… It’s wonderful. Comfort incarnate. Like a blanket on a cold winter day. Like the hot chocolate in your hand after coming out of a blizzard. Like the… do I need to keep going? It’s good.

“Huh. It’s ok. I’ve gotta get back at these ‘French’ for making such a bland dish.” And then you have this masochist who can’t even enjoy the best of things.