After stealthily making his way into the old abandoned hospital and sneaking around the dozens of grotesque monsters that roamed its halls, James followed the instructions of his former Runarian Knight subordinate and successfully reached the operating room the maniac usually stayed in. The presence of a strange creature handing its master an old-timey phone did help confirm his destination, though it was more bothersome than it was worth. James was reluctant to attack the Patcher in the middle of the call, even if it involved him. The point of this operation was to be discreet and make sure no one would suspect Silhouette for what would happen next. Even ignoring the possibility of the Biflora theorizing that Silhouette may be the one interrupting the Patcher's intel, there was still the risk of him simply calling out for help.

So, James waited. He hated it, but he had to.

As soon as the Patcher hung up the phone, however, James struck.

James leaped from a shadow on the ceiling to become a deadly spike aimed at the madman's heart, only to harmlessly bounce off his back and land behind him. The elf chuckled as James quickly reshaped himself, launching volleys of spells as he did that all flickered out as soon as they touched their target, a smile on his face as he turned around. Only the monster holding the phone seemed to be panicking at what was happening.

"Ah, Silhouette. You've left me waiting for quite some time, hm?"

James ceased his volley of spells, blatantly useless at present, and tried to reposition himself, quickly rushing towards the door to take care of the monster holding the phone to ensure all lines of communication were cut.

"Leaving already? We can't have that. Glapissant, Kamelot, come here!"

James didn't bother correcting him on his intentions, instead creating bladed tendrils that tore the phone from the pale creature's enormous hand and crushed it as more limbs tore at the walls to gather materials to fight the two monsters he knew for a fact had been designed to fight him. Sure enough, a few seconds later, a familiar long-necked hound-like beast composed of skinned humans melted together appeared, its scream-like howls filling the air as its main pair of eyes looked at him hatefully. It seemed like it held a grudge for the time he plunged a sword into its skull.

Though, looking a little closer, there were some differences with the monster James once fought. It was the same entity without a doubt, but it had undergone a few transformations. The number of spot-like holes of ears, mouths, and even eyes had increased, spreading further than only its torso, and new bony growths ran along its neck, likely a way to fix the damage it endured last time.

"You know, Glapissant has been waiting for this moment for so long. It has been on a few odd jobs since you last met, but it only had you in mind. You were the reason for its birth, after all, and its failure to get you has been gnawing at it."

James could have given some banter on the fact the monster was likely more scared of its master's punishment for failure rather than James' escape, but he wouldn't give the madman the pleasure of playing into his game. The Patcher clearly was the sort of maniac who enjoyed the negativity of his audience, flourishing in their anger and fear. No, James answered by taking pieces of rubble and crashing together like cymbals on the creature's head, its bewildered look betraying the fact it hadn't expected him to fight.

An understandable mistake, really. James did spend quite some time running from it during their last encounter. Sadly for it, it wouldn't happen again.

The surprised look and widened eyes of the beast disappeared behind the fragments of cement crushing its head, a discomforting crunching sound and spurts of blood revealing it hadn't escaped unscathed. With that being said, James was genuinely surprised to see the thing slump forward and collapse on the ground afterward. He had expected some redundant organs and systems to keep it active even with a compromised head, not for it to go down in one hit. Even the elf who made it looked surprised, blinking in disbelief at the fate that belied his creation.

"Well, that was disappointing. Perhaps I underestimated the extent of Runar's influence on it."

"You are quick to shift the blame. Have you considered that your abominable work is worthless?"

"Oh oh, he speaks! But Silhouette, don't forget, we have a second guest."

Right on cue a new creature entered the room, this one's yelling closer to a rumbling more felt than heard. The ankylosaurus-like monster was the most down-to-earth design the Patcher had produced from what James had seen, with no stretched, disjointed, or eery anatomy to speak of. If anything, if James didn't focus too hard, it passed as a realistic reconstitution of the club-tailed dinosaur. Of course, such a pleasant thought quickly died with a deeper analysis.

Its color, to begin with. While the specifics of dinosaur coloration were largely a mystery back on Earth bar for the occasional piece of mummified epidermis, James had a feeling ankylosaurus wasn't an assortment of similar hues of human skin tones and the occasional green. It wasn't quite as mix-and-matched as some other monsters James got a glimpse of on his way to the operation room. If anything, it was somewhat tasteful, with the lighter tones placed on the underside and in the joints while the green spots were on the head and as stripes on the sides all the way until the end of the tail.

Yes, in a vacuum, this would have been a somewhat realistic choice and definitely pleasing choice, ignoring the ivory-yellow color of the armor on its back and its club. Knowing who its maker was ruined any possible doubt as to what it was composed of. There were also its eyes, those were not the eyes of an animal, not even a smart one, but those of a person. Speaking of, there was something familiar about them, and remembering Valker's report, he had a feeling he knew the reason why. It would also explain the green bits.

And again, knowing the Patcher, there were a lot more things that popped out as strange. Odd folds here and there, veins a little too visible, and the skin a little too stretched in some spots, as though it had undergone cosmetic surgery in the past. No doubt, there were even more "fun" surprises hidden in its flesh. James doubted a maniac like him would have simply made a human and orc dinosaur. It was horrible for the victims, but Glapissant had shown the more heavily designed Patchees were more complex than their "mass-produced" counterparts, as mass-produced as monsters composed of transformed victims could be.

The creature opened its beak as it spotted the mass of darkness that was James, revealing the human teeth and far too sharp fangs hiding in its mouth. From the glint in its eyes, it appeared to remember him. Something the Patcher found quite amusing judging by its grin.

"Silhouette, meet Kamelot. You may be familiar with its core component, Karadok. For as long as I knew him I wanted to experiment with his incredible body, and goodness, was it worth the wait. I have to thank you for that, our contract stipulated I would only get my hands on him when he no longer worked for Runar. Your intervention helped expedite the process. A shame you had to go and ruin his hands, though. I simply couldn't use them after you corrupted them, it presented far too much risk."

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Kamelot walked into the room, shaking the ground with every step, its tail swinging and breaking parts of the entrance as it did so. Its eyes widened when it realized the damage it had caused and it turned to look at the Patcher, worried about his reaction. The elf only shook his head with a sigh before beckoning the creature, encouraging it to continue. No longer fearing the wrath of its maker, the monster roared once more as it charged forward, the act revealing its front legs were closer to the arms of a gorilla than those of a large quadrupedal reptile.

Somehow, despite its weight, the ankylosaurus leaped into the air and turned to clobber the retreating James with its clubbed tail. James threw himself onto the ceiling to escape, leaving the fake dinosaur to continue its fall. The Patcher had calmly stepped back, leaving his tables to get closer to the walls and avoid the incoming strike, reaching the edge of the room right as the creature's body landed on his tables and crushed them, including the unfortunate victim who was being vivisected.

James took advantage of the short time it took for the beast to recuperate and gather its wits to attack, powerful tentacles coming down with as much strength as he could muster. The Patcher smiled at the act until he realized the shadowy appendages weren't aiming at his creation but the floor beneath, the already weakened ground creaking and cracking as it collapsed. Kamelot let out a pained moan as it fell into the newly created pit, only to realize too late that James had used sharper appendages to dig into the plaster ceiling and turn one of the beams inside into a stake.

Kamelot cried one last time as it was impaled by a beam as wide as its head right into the mouth, its sharpened tip emerging between its hindlegs.

The Patcher looked at his dying creature, trying to understand what had just happened.

"Well, that was unexpected. It appears I underestimated the extent of Runar's influence. Sigh, that man was surely cursed. Seeing all of the talents surrounding him and his own all fail like this almost brings a tear. Still, a beam? It should have survived that."

James didn't bother responding, instead dropping from his spot on the ceiling with dozens of tentacles each holding sharpened bits of rubble, glowing black runes on them.

"Ah, I see. You took more from Runar than his business. It must have been insulting for him to see runes be used against him. Ah, a shame to see him go. He had such wonderful talent. Given a few more decades he could have become so much more. Too bad he was a poor leader and planner, not to mention his choice of location. He would have flourished as a subordinate in a bigger city, but his pride wouldn't let him serve another, and he knew very well he would have been devoured out there."

James repeated his attack to kill Glapissant - he brought all of the rubble he gathered together where the Patcher's head was.

He tried to, anyway.

James suddenly found himself feeling stabbed by cold all over his body and found his limbs going out of control, merging or being slapped to the ground against his will. He barely caught the silvery glint of the madman's floating needle entering and exiting him countless times before he found himself forced to be in his Silhouette shape, kneeling on the ground in front of the grinning elf as his instrument returned to his side.

"You two are far more similar than you'd think, Silhouette. I do not share this flaw. I know my limits, what I can and cannot do. I am no grand king or bringer of change. No, I am a creative soul who is satisfied living in his little domain away from the frontline, sharing his art with those who bring him new materials. That does not mean I am weak, though."

The madman chuckled as his needle flew through his dark body once more, forcing Silhouette's head to the ground to the point yet somehow preventing James from melting to escape.

"How do you think I first sourced my materials, before the gangs and my first successful creations? I had to harvest them myself. And my dear creations! Yes, I know you call them all monsters and abominations, and while I find the choice of words distasteful, I am flabbergasted none of you ever wonder why 'monsters' would obey me. I am no fool, I am well aware they have no loyalty to their creator, none born out of love or thankfulness that is. No, my selfish and unappreciative projects only obey out of fear. Because they know what I can do."

The elf walked away to turn back on the gramophone on the other side of the room, the sound of a waltz returning.

"It's the family gift, we all have a talent for putting things together or taking them apart. There's a varying degree, of course. My great-grandfather couldn't make anything for the life of him, but one swing of his axe could cut a mountain in two. I have the luck of being one of the most balanced of the lot, possibly the best of the generation. I can dismantle and reassemble things with much greater precision, though I do lack the range and scale of some of my cousins. Not that I mind."

He returned to James, though not before crouching down next to the remains of his tables to pick up his scalpel.

"Any old idiot with enough sheer strength can make an ice castle that lasts for centuries. But it takes a genius to create living things, to give them bones of ice and flesh of snow, organs, and veins, to make them live as true creatures and not merely realistically sculpted golems. None in my family could do what I do, not with beings of flesh and bone."

"You are a pathetic little man, Patcher."

"Oh? Willing to talk again?"

"You are no artist. There is no art in what you do. As for your story of equaling nature rather than poorly mimicking it? I saw your work. Bones and organs do not work this way. Without your power, they would all be dead."

"Oh, rich words coming from someone with Transformation."

"Are you familiar with vitalism, Patcher?"

The elf looked taken aback by the shift in the conversation.

"What?"

"Vitalism. A philosophical current. It is not the origin of the 'more than the sum of its parts' quote, but it did help popularize it in its time. To roughly summarize, the idea is that a living being is more than the sum of its parts, as evidenced by the fact that if you take a bear, cut it apart, and sew it all back together, the bear won't magically start living again. Of course, vitalism has its fair share of flaws and isn't the main focus of my point, but related."

"Oh?"

"Your work is less than the sum of its parts. You destroy the sanctity of life all in the vain attempt to copy it. Even disregarding the morality of your acts, and only looking at facts, your work is a waste. Look at your Kamelot, and how easily it was defeated. Karadok wouldn't have fallen so easily. Yes, I defeated him before, and I have grown beyond who I was then, but he still would have proven more of a challenge. If you take a hundred people and transform them into thirty monsters twice as strong as the humans they were before, that is still only equivalent to sixty of those people. Your touch is a net loss. You consider Runar a failure, but at least his influence was a net improvement. So is my touch."

The Patcher's eyelid twitched before he raised a foot and stomped it down onto Silhouette's head, pressing it even more against the ground as he dug his heel in.

"What grand words for someone in your position. A pitiful shade given far too much power for his own good. Only now are you in your rightful place. We will see how your pride fares when I'm done. I pondered for a long time what to make out of you, and I'm starting to think it would be better to use you as material for other projects. As you can see, I can sew you with whatever I wish without an issue."

The maniac grinned at James, his malice fully exposed as he leaned down, scalpel in hand.

BANG.

The elf dropped his tool as he clutched his chest, blood flowing between his gloved fingers. He tried to look down but found himself falling forward, in the middle of James' black mass that shifted to hold him, restraining his arms and snatching the needle as it too fell. Encompassed by solid shadows, the man's gaze was drawn to the barrel still aimed at him.

"I must thank you for your love of monologue. It still takes too much time to pull off this trick to use reliably in active combat."

The elf tried to speak, but the blood pooling in his mouth stopped him.

"To answer your curiosity, let's simply call it shadow teleportation.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.