"Mr. Patch Mavis."
Melinda called out Patch's name, her expression cold. "I have to say, your lying skills are terrible. But there's no need to keep pretending—we already know who you are."
"Even if you don't plan on telling us the truth, how do you explain this strange and dangerous doll beside you?"
As she spoke, Melinda pointed at the silver-white doll next to Patch. When her eyes passed over those razor-sharp fingers, she couldn't help but shudder slightly.
After all, that feeling of standing at death's edge had been too terrifying. Even now, the memory still lingered vividly.
"Master, the magic doll is angry."
At Melinda's words, the metal sphere above the doll's head began to spin slowly as it spoke.
"Orianna, calm down. You almost killed our two experienced agent guests just now."
Patch turned his head toward the silver doll—Orianna—and called out to her before turning back to Melinda with a faint smile.
"Miss May, Orianna isn't the 'doll' you're talking about. She's the first humanoid construct I personally created, a magical spirit. She possesses her own independent personality. Aside from her outer appearance, she's no different from us."
"So, please address her by her name—Orianna, alright?"
"Orianna? A humanoid construct with an independent personality?" Coulson exclaimed, half agape as he pointed at her. "Mr. Mavis, you're not saying she's actually alive, are you?"
From ancient times to now, the power of creation had always belonged only to God. Yet, seeing a lifelike doll standing before him—and hearing she was created by Patch—even Coulson, an atheist, couldn't help feeling deeply shocked.
"What's wrong, Mr. Coulson? You seem surprised," Patch said with a faint smile.
"Yes, Mr. Mavis, I am. Before coming here, I thought you might be a mutant. But now, I've completely ruled that out," Coulson replied seriously.
"Mutant?"
Patch's face twisted into a mocking smile.
"You dare compare me to such inferior creatures? Mr. Coulson, you're openly insulting me."
Patch's expression darkened, his tone carrying suppressed laughter.
"Mr. Mavis, I didn't mean any offense. I was only making an analogy," Coulson quickly explained, raising his hands.
He couldn't understand why Patch suddenly grew angry, but seeing his face, Coulson knew it wasn't a joke. He hurriedly clarified, speaking as calmly and carefully as he could.
Patch wasn't someone ordinary, and that doll beside him—who called him "master"—was lethally dangerous. If Patch were provoked, Coulson could imagine the consequences.
Just that doll alone had been enough to render them powerless. And now there was also her creator, Patch Mavis.
Coulson wasn't a fool, nor did he wish to experience that feeling of near-death again.
But unfortunately, Melinda chose this exact moment to speak up.
"Mr. Mavis, since you look down on those mutants so much, do you consider yourself above them?" she asked, stepping forward and meeting his gaze directly.
"Mel, you—"
Coulson called out in panic, but it was too late. Her words were already out. He could only turn nervously to Patch, dreading what would follow.
Yet, instead of anger, Patch's lips curved slightly. His blue eyes glimmered with amusement.
"Miss May, I have to admit—you're very brave."
"It's nothing. I'm just doing my duty," Melinda replied coolly.
"Since you're so honest, I suppose I can explain a little."
Patch stood up, leaning lightly against the desk. His deep, magnetic voice filled the room.
"Mutants—creatures of low order and chaotic abilities—perhaps they were simply mistakes in God's creation. In my eyes, they're merely mortals enslaved by higher powers. They know nothing about true strength, unable even to control their own abilities. How could such beings ever hope to uncover the deeper essence of power?"
He gave a quiet laugh. "In front of me, they're not even qualified to polish my shoes."
These weren't words meant to show off—they were Patch's genuine thoughts.
After studying the True Interpretation of the Sorcerer for over four years, mastering his power completely, Patch had every right to think so.
Over those years, in his quest to collect supernatural energy for the Main God Space's exchange panel, he had encountered many of the so-called mutants Coulson spoke of.
At first, those seemingly powerful mutants had caused him trouble. But as his understanding of the True Interpretation deepened—along with his grasp of nature's laws—Patch gradually saw through their essence.
They were nothing more than pitiful beings enslaved by forces beyond their understanding.
Their control over power was laughable, their desires amplified to extremes by sudden strength. Some mutants, in Patch's eyes, could no longer even be called human.
The deeper he delved into the mysteries of power, the more obvious their flaws became.
And because of that, Patch's disdain for them only grew stronger.
That was why he had no hesitation speaking such outrageous words before Coulson and Melinda.
"Then…" Melinda asked again, "Mr. Mavis, what are you exactly?"
"I…"
Patch chuckled softly. "If I told you I'm actually a god, would you believe me?"