“You filthy rats!” It roared, a deep and feminine voice, very capable of being understood by even the common men in the party. They felt fear freeze them bodies in place, cold sweat dripping down their backs. This manticore had come from nowhere, there shouldn't be such a powerful monster so near the city. To them, she was pure wrath and animal instinct, but Tyr knew otherwise.

This creature had a great deal of intelligence in its bright eyes. No beast, this was an awakened magical creature far beyond his ability to handle. Even an archmage would find it difficult. This was a monster they could not slay. One that could strike them all down without moving a muscle.

“My child... You've killed my young! Why!? He did not bear threat to you. We do not wish to communicate with humans, let alone be hunted by them!” There was a great deal of sorrow in her voice. Not a monster. Not some evil creature, just a grieving mother. They were feelings Tyr could relate to. He'd woken screaming a thousand times with that same question on his lips.

Why?

And she was powerful enough to force him to understand how she felt, radiating all her feelings like a miniature sun. Killing intent, but... Different? An empath...? Incredibly rare magic, Tyr had never heard of one before – but it was so strong that he knew instantly what it was. She wanted them to feel all of her sadness and wrath before sending them to their hells screaming.

There was only one problem, for her. Tyr was unaffected by the pressure. He could feel it, but he had not collapsed to his knees like the others. Even Benny, who was fairly strong in comparison, was impotent before her rage.

First, she tried clawing at him. Biting him. Breathing a long tongue of emerald flame and striking at him with the snake on her tail. Each and every attempt to harm Tyr was frozen just inches from her mark. Leaving the others as astounded as Tyr was. All around him was starlight, setting his features into radiance as bright as the apex of day.

“Oi...” Benny struggled against the force pressing down on him before falling back to his knees, it felt like a ton of bricks rested on his shoulders. “You better not mess with us! He can... Uh... Glow! Watch out. He's glowin'! Better watch out.” With a flick of the manticores massive paw, all of the men and women present collapsed into unconsciousness. Unharmed, but only temporarily. Tyr knew the look in her eyes. She wanted to torture them. Like he had to so many in his life.

“Of course. It has been a while, but you. You... Nephilim...” She growled in her own language, the language of beasts and forests. It sounded like wind blowing, trees creaking, the whisper of green shoots bursting from loamy soil. “Little broken thing. Why have you done this to us?” She tempered herself, shaking with barely controlled anger. Staring at him with an incredibly complex look in her eye. All of that rage, anguish, regret, and... Fear? Tyr wasn't sure why, but he could smell her fear on the air. Not fear. Terror, something more powerful than that. She was terrified of him, shaking at the realization of what he was.

“I killed your son, great one. Why? Because he was a threat to nearby humans. He fought well and committed himself honorably. That's all I can say. These men have just arrived and had nothing to do with our battle.”

“A lie.” 'She' snarled. “But a noble one. Or perhaps not, perhaps you know that I cannot harm you unless you accept the challenge. Your lessers are full of lies, each and every one of you wears two faces, but you smell different than the others.” She sighed, saying no more, returning to the corpse of her child and nuzzling it gently before letting out a wail of mourning.

“Why can't you harm me?” Tyr asked. He could understand her feelings, but that didn't mean he would join her in melancholy. Things fought, things died. This was the way, and this scorpicore in particular was blood maddened and out of control. If it had wanted to leave, Tyr would've let it. And now it was a part of him, a massive influx of spira to bolster his own.

“Because the father wished us created so, always so concerned with protecting your kind. I and my line are of the third shaping. The children of Solomon.”

It wasn't as shocking as one might expect. Solomon was a master of anima. He had practically invented the concept of modern blood magic – and had discovered the existence of that energy force and how to use it. He was responsible for the creation of all chimera whether they be by his hands or others, forbidden magic. To take many creatures and create one from their remains, breathing new life and purpose into it.

Biological alchemy resulting in things like haemonculi came later, imperfect attempts to replicate his mastery over life.

“Solomon killed two primus'. What do you mean he didn't want to harm us?” Tyr protested, slowly dragging the regenerating corpse of Kirk from beneath her. His shell cracked and splintered until a much smaller crab emerged, huffing before keeling over with a squeak under the pressure she was releasing. Still alive, it would've been funny if not for the situation... There seemed to be a lot of situations like that, these days. “He even killed a god!”

“A god.” She snorted. “What a strange word for the cretin he struck down from the sky. Regardless, my kind are not permitted to harm your own. In my grief I did not recognize you, but now I see. You've done a grim deed this day and though I cannot make you suffer, do not think yourself forgiven.”

“Chimera fight primus' all the time. My father said no such thing about your inability to harm us. You are some of the most dangerous creatures on the continent. I...” I can't let you leave. That's what he wanted to say, but despite his inability to be harmed by her – without this deus machina – he was well aware that she was the strongest being he'd ever seen except for his own father and perhaps Abaddon. Maybe strong enough to offer him a true death.

“Do not confuse us with those monstrosities. The father gave us life and thought, the ability to live and feel. We are not like them, and neither was...” Her son, but she could feel something inside of him. Something different. It was so blatantly obvious, something she hadn't noticed in her grief. “I see, now. You have my apologies, then, and my thanks.”

“Apologies?” The change of heart and abrupt shift in her tone shocked him. The anguish was still there, but tempered by something else. A need for revenge. Thoughts rapidly flicking through the spira until she made him understand rather than responding.

Inside of the scorpicore lay the sign of a hand. Something or someone had taken him, chained him, and changed him. Declared a failure and discarded. Eventually traveling the lands of men, chased by an unending pain and the biting of steel from a score of hunters until he'd found some peace slightly north of here. Peace, but mostly just food.

“Do you see?” She asked.

“I see. And I'm sorry. I don't know who did this.”

“One who has found the legacy of the father and twisted it to his own ends. So? What'll it be?”

“What will what be?” Tyr asked, tilting his head in confusion.

Again, there were thoughts. They invaded his mind. Something akin to the soul bond he shared with Okami but infinitely more visceral. Clarity to them that he did not get from his partner. Her life, her purpose, and the words of her own mother that had done the same to pass down her legacy and who she was upon awakening. Most importantly, the oath taken by all those shaped by the 'father' – Solomon.

“Wait...” Tyr's head was spinning with all the flickering thoughts flying through it. “If I ask you to die... You'll just... Die? I can just tell you to kill yourself and you'll do it? What kind of half assed agreement is that!?”

“If a high one requests it, I must obey. You can order me to do anything. Be anything...” She was no longer a bestial manticore, but a peerless beauty of buxom form and full lips. If he didn't have the sense to feel her incredible strength, she'd look like something between beastkin and human. With slit irises and very slight animal features. Still, mostly humans. “We cannot deny the request of a high one. It's why we were made. We exist to serve you, to live for you in all ways requested of us.”

“Made to be slaves?” Tyr felt sick to his stomach at the idea. “Who would order such a thing?”

She shook her head. “Not quite. The father listened, and followed. Giving us our great gift, the ability to love and feel as the lesser parts of us could not. In respect to this, we were bound to an eternal oath. Even my children are held to this, and yet – as you can see.” She nodded sadly at the corpse of her child. “Some evil hand has broken his oath and mind along with it. Tearing the intelligence from one of my kin through the anima and denying him his right to live as a thinking being. You think us evil, but we just live. Whether by the hand of your petty gods or the father, does it really matter?”

“I suppose not.”

“So...?” She asked in anticipation.

“You can just leave. I have no interest in a slave.” The very concept disgusted him. The more he saw, the less he considered the authors of the black books 'evil'. They were just mages, extremely talented ones caught up in some folly or another. But this... Tyr could not comprehend why Solomon would do such a thing. This was evil. “Or, if not a slave, a living weapon. We can either fight, or you can take what's left of your son and go home. Your will is your own.”

“Interesting...” She seemed surprised by this, still in her bipedal form.

“First, though.” Tyr sighed. “I need... A favor. Basically, you're going to disappear with that corpse and this whole guild is going to be up my ass about it. As you might be well aware, humans are singularly greedy creatures. First – there are recording artifacts all around us. My magic is weak, and you are strong. Can you destroy them?”

“You say 'can'. Can I?” The chimera smiled gently. “To compel me, you must order – not request. You can feel however you'd like, I don't care, but you are projecting your own values and considering them superior to the very reason I exist. Do you see how foul this is, in context?”

Tyr shrugged. “I don't care how offended you are. I'm asking, not telling. In my culture, consent is extremely important. You are a hypocrite by claiming I should forget that in lieu of your own values.”

She snorted in amusement, recovering bizarrely quickly considering her son was still dead at her feet. Doing what he'd asked with a flick of her wrist. Her magic was incredibly potent and formless. Like his, he could feel the reaction. She asked, and the mana did as she wished. It was almost ironic, that they operated on such a consensual relationship with the elements shaping reality, considering their brief dialog. And the more obvious thing...

“You can use shaper magic?” Tyr asked, astounded. Abaddon had indicated how rare it was, and how he should be the 'only one' on the continent capable of using it in its true form.

“Of course.” She sniffed at the air, destroying several nearby buildings and making the place look like a warzone. “They don't call it the shaping for nothing, child. Most magical beasts, too. I've gone ahead and made sure that the area looks like a struggle took place. Does that work? I don't care what you tell them, even if it insinuates that you heroically wrestled me to the ground and had your way with me before ending my life.”

There was a mischievous smile tacked onto her face, and the way her elongated canines peaked out from her split lips made Tyr uncomfortable.

“That works. Thank you.” Tyr bowed deep until his forehead was near parallel with the ground. Bowing. Offering as much respect as he could under his value system, this was the greatest honor he could offer, and it just... Felt right, even if he'd never thought to do it in any circumstance. “My lady.”

She chuckled, spirit lifting at the ridiculous sight of a high one bowing to a chimera. “You're a polite one. Your name?”

“Tyr Faeron.”

“Ah. Son of Jartor. Of Haran. I am Nala. I hope we meet again, Tyr Faeron. Thank you for giving my son an honorable death.”

“Mmm... Thank you for not... Murdering everyone?” Tyr raised an eyebrow, not sure how else to articulate his appreciation. “Ah, the man who did this. I can't prove it, but I'm pretty sure his name is Hastur Casterling and he's located somewhere in Baccia to the west. One more favor, if you don't mind?”

“I cannot refuse, but you have my gratitude once again for asking. Now that we've discussed it, I feel that it is... Appropriate, a great favor.” She nodded with a soft smile. The corpse of her child disappeared into one of the various rings on her fingers. It would seem that they were capable of using artifacts just as humans did – which was good to know. It gave Tyr the idea to outfit Okami with some of his own. Some day, he wasn't sure where to put them on a wolf, though.

“When you find that rat, promise me you'll let me know. We can kill him together.”

“As long as he suffers for his transgressions, I will do as you ask. What he has done is incredibly foul, even if you do not understand it. Father shaped, but this Hastur as you call him is one more intent to break and destroy.”

“It'll be slow.” Tyr let the sacred flame dance around his fingertips meaningfully. A hard glint in his eye, remembering the child and pile of similar failures Hastur had foisted on him. “I swear it.”

Nala nodded in grim satisfaction, leaving as fast as she'd come.