While the kids were off to school, James wasn't idle. He had his applicant interviews in the morning, something that was a bizarre hybrid of mundane and odd that he would be delighted to see out of his routine, but his afternoon was far more eventful.

Right after noon, he had his training with Mesker. Past his initial session to judge his abilities and behavior, their meetings had become true lessons. They did not always involve testing in the field, with some of those dedicated to talking about potential strategies and exploring James' current abilities at rest being some of the more fruitful.

As the demonologist had put it during one of those encounters, fighting may have helped to learn how to better battle, but some things had to be learned in the quietude of a study. James had superpowers, but he had learned to use them like a street urchin learning how to fight. It was all about desperate survival, there was no proper technique. James was relying on his natural overwhelming force and some bits of psychological warfare, leaving him struggling against braver foes with enough strength to fight back.

Looking back, had James undergone those lessons far earlier, he wouldn't have struggled so much against Runar. The runemaster was perfectly suited to counter James at the time: he was calm and calculated, using his runes to control and set the pace of the battle, denying James' power. Had James not learned about runes and found Karadok's runebreaker, he wasn't certain he would have won that day - if his enemy fleeing and James compromising his means of escape could truly be counted as a victory. Runar was far from defeated, only his hair had been corrupted and he had enough stamina left in him to fight a while longer. Had the mage been less of a worrywart...

But James had grown since then. In multiple ways. Each day that passed his powers grew stronger. He was gaining more and more mass, usually safely negated in shadow form, and even his transformative powers had grown more efficient. It was hard to measure precisely since he usually restrained himself to small items, but the rate of conversion had quickened, and even the bonds in his soul space felt stronger. But while the increase in sheer power was welcome if a little concerning as to what he might become in the future, it's the control Mesker helped him with that truly changed things.

For starters, a proper magic teacher rather than a simplistic glorified pamphlet did wonders. Not because Mesker taught him new spells, but because he showed him how to properly shape magic. As the old wizard had put it in the past, magical schools could be compared to schools of martial arts, and while developing a unique style was encouraged to reach the greatest heights, learning tried and true techniques was a necessary step to a proper foundation. You couldn't forge a new path if you were lost and far from the crossroads.

But even outside of spellwork and tactics, Mesker helped James understand more about his new body, to get more familiar with it. Though he had by now gotten used to fighting as immaterially as possible, making sure not to have a proper body for opponents to target as much as he could, Mesker had been the one to help him start spreading his consciousness more. He had to be more than just one big blob, he had to be the ever-shifting darkness and the nightmares it hosted. A black wolf was scary, yes, but being lost alone at night in the woods surrounded by unknown threats was far more unsettling.

After his training was over, James still had to manage his operations. He trusted his subordinate to handle the day-to-day, but he still had to check in every now and then. Especially since they had begun a new expansion campaign, both above and below ground. As Shades Of Penumbra was growing as a business, so was Silhouette's empire. This new wave of growth was slower than his initial push to reach a path to the city, in part due to the lack of trusted personnel to cover so much territory but mostly because of the lack of urgency this time around. James had access to the civilized Zalcien now and his veins spread through the foundation of the city to quickly wherever he pleased, this set of expansion was purely for the sake of growing his influence rather than a real need.

Well, to grow his influence and reinforce security. Monsters crafted by the Hivines still appeared now and then, nothing close to the rampage that threatened the orphanage but still dangerous enough to warrant having Infused stationed throughout his domain at all times. Truth be told though the Hivines didn't scare James quite as much as they once did. He wouldn't dismiss them, they were still one of the three greatest Villainous factions in the city, but by this point, he had a feeling the Biflora wouldn't risk anything more. They were both public figures, and should any of his worshippers go too far without being discreet enough, the people of Zalcien would know, and the legality of the cult might be put in jeopardy. Not to mention, there was a much juicier target known as Wicked Witchcraft, the illegal cabal falling deeper into disarray as Abrakaboom's absence grew increasingly obvious. The wizards had lost their scarecrow, and the vultures were ready to feast.

No, what James truly feared were the others. The Empress' forces had yet to antagonize him - to this day the small drone that had killed the ratlings' original parents was the only thing of the faction James had ever faced - but he wasn't blind. He was a growing power, and as soon as the situation with Wicked Witchcraft stabilized, all those opportunistic eyes would turn to him. He didn't have anything to the level of the demented pyromaniac that would deter them. Not yet. Techlord and the Elite Infused were still his greatest fighters, and while they had improved since their fight with the Runarian Knights, they still were far from the level of the powerhouses of the other factions. They were still improving, but not fast enough. It wasn't as though James could just recruit someone new to fill the role either, both because these sorts were rare and because he couldn't trust them, not to the level he trusted his current crew.

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There was one possibility, one James refused to entertain. Hiring the Patcher to craft a monster and then transforming it, hopefully breaking whatever hold the butcher had over his transformed victims. He would rather die than go through with that.

There was also the matter of Greenheld. The undead... Dryad? Treant? Whatever plant-based lifeform she was, she had proven to be strong. If they could find some way to grant her back means of locomotion, she could act as another agent. Again, James was dissatisfied with the idea. While powerful, the old undead was not a fighter at heart. It was also clear she much preferred to guard the old grounds and children she cared for, dead or alive. No, she was better left where she was.

The Marked, perhaps? The white crocodile had proven very intelligent, clever enough to choose to ally with him to chase off others from their shared territory and to express her tolerance of his presence in her waters. Yet, he had a feeling she would prefer to remain a free creature, even if offered the boons of transformation.

Even if they had agreed, none of those possibilities would be at the level James wanted. In a duel, he had a feeling Techlord would still best each of them. A willing transformation might change things, and even then he wouldn't be surprised to see the youngster stay victorious. He was that talented and spiteful.

All that to say that if James couldn't find his own scarecrow, he would need to become the boogeyman himself. He didn't need to rival monsters like Sunburn, just to be stronger than the average Villain and prove to be too much of a challenge to be worth risking for those major powers. They couldn't risk getting injured or losing enough time for the Union Heroes to arrive. Villains were notorious for breaking out of jail, but for them to be captured required a heavy beating they would need to recover from beforehand. Not to mention, not everyone could launch a prison break, and escaping was a little harder than just punching through some walls. Those things cost resources. Those people weren't stupid, they would much rather avoid net losses.

This train of thought was partially responsible for James' return to the slums. He wasn't flamboyantly exposing himself, but rather discreetly observing something he had wanted to deal with for a little now. An old abandoned hospital, a no man's land in the slums, a small place of unnerving peace. Grounds haunted by monstrous creations and their even more abominable maker.

The Patcher. He wasn't the strongest or most dangerous of the criminal elements in Zalcien, but he was without a doubt the most infamous. The demented elf owed his continuing freedom to the work he did for the major gangs, proving too valuable to kill, letting him amass all he needed to craft stronger creatures to take care of those who would end his sick acts, as well as his habit of staying hidden in this piece of the slums, a place deemed too dangerous for the Hero Union to attack. To reach these grounds, deeper in the slums than the Black Border James was used to, the Heroes would need to traverse hostile territory, whether on or below ground or risk the anti-aerial defenses of the gangsters on the way. No, the risk wasn't worth the effort, particularly when the Patcher usually chose to abduct his victims from this lawless land rather than the proper city. Usually.

James wouldn't forget what The Silence had shared in their online chatroom.

The maniac had assisted Runar on a purely professional basis, but later on showed interest in James, to the point he had addressed the invisible spy James had sent to observe him to send him a message, to invite him to contact him directly. Afterward, according to Guy's network, word was that the Patcher offered a discount to any commission so long as it involved Silhouette with the added condition that James would be captured and sent to him. That alone hadn't been enough to prompt James to move, though he had kept an eye on things.

Yesterday, one of his creatures attacked.

James and the folks of the orphanage knew it wasn't one of the Hivines'. The monsters of the Biflora were mindless, puppets obeying orders and following rudimentary instincts, composed seemingly of plants and animals combined. The man-made horror of twisted men who attacked was screaming, begging for death at every step, even as it tried to eviscerate all who met its path. It made no victim thankfully, easily put down by Techlord cutting apart and burning what was left, but the implications were clear.

To make matters worse, from what Guy knew, no one had picked up the Patcher on his offer yet. This was a direct attack orchestrated by the maniac himself.

James couldn't just gather his fighters and rush in to bulldoze the hospital and purge the horrors haunting it, though. The Patcher's location wasn't the only thing protecting him. The services he provided to the various factions made him too valuable. Any Vigilante who tried their luck would be met with defenders from the gangs. He was an untouchable, and he had the self-control to keep his hands off those he was ordered to ignore to preserve that title.

James couldn't attack openly. Not unless he wanted to make an enemy out of most of the major criminal elements of the city.

No. He had to do things discreetly. Because he would do something. The Patcher was a loose end that James had had to ignore, unable to act. A loose end that had been growing increasingly bold. There had been another attack this morning. Even now, observing him silently, Solvent reported yet another monster trying to break into the rune workshop. Those were lone creatures, for now, attacking well-defended positions, but how long would that last? How long until they came in hordes? How long until they began to strike at less armed targets?

What if they found his children?

He would put an end to this now. He just needed to make sure no one could connect him to what would happen next.

As a shadow discreetly slithered closer to the nest of terrors, crows flew in circles in the sky.

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