Set feels some sympathy for the lynx before her. That sense of smug orange superiority oozing off of her is so strong. Set understands, sympathizes even. Isn't that something like what the Phantom Thieves themselves are trying to create? That mystique of just [i]being better[/i] than everybody else. That turns heads, tugs on hearts. Little Annunaki thinking "maybe I want to be like that." The lynx feels that superiority over humans, and so it clouds her judgment and causes her to strike with abandon, secure in the belief that she's just better because nobody without a spinal mane could possibly see through the choking incense to react in time. 

It's just that the lynx is wrong. She's underestimated the little goddess in front of her. That orange smugness shines off her like a torch in the night and so she's easy to predict. 

She leaps. There's a swish of colorful linen. Set sinks into the floor. Lynx claws brush a swirl of dress that flutters aside leaving only air to rend. Then there's a light tug on her chest, a hand that's grabbed her from below. It's not that hard, even for a weak, small human, to grab the armor so the lynx's own momentum rips a chunk of her protective mesh off her chest, and then a new blast curls around the wrist of that hand. Just a light one, not too wide, a pinpoint strike of lapis energy that feels like a bull just kicked her right in the ribs. 

[Directly engage with Littlest Space Bandit: 2+2+3=7. We trade blows, but Set selects the resist or avoid their blows option. Mra'al probably marks a condition.]