Perhaps this is Marcina Villajero’s way of admitting that she had actually been expecting Smokeless Jade Fires here, after measuring their matches against each other. Or perhaps it was more that, now that she was staring down the barrels of the Nine-Tails in person -- no. Not that. Phrase the thought with less arrogance. Less self centered. Remember the immanent possibility of your own defeat. This is a superior opponent. With a superior loadoat. 

So. What, then? Ascertain nature of confession. An all powerful generalist with omnipotent fundamentals, now matched against a technique specialist using piloting prowess as a cloak to cover a frankly atrocious battle form. A realization about the nature of the match up, then? A taunt from someone who had seen through her vaunted "one layer of defense" mantra? Unlikely. Acknowledgment of the difficulty of the dance that had been woven, then. A declaration of lust. If not outright love.

That, she could respond to. That matched her hopes. That made this a meal worth savoring, and not just a chore she had to swallow to keep Slate or someone like her from yelling. Acknowledgment. Recognition. Desire. She'd scoffed at the Priestess and her Goddess when they'd told her as much but in truth Mirror's hunger for these things was even more voracious than theirs. Nothing this close to Solarel should feel fun or exciting. Certainly not tantalizing.

But here she is, licking her lips in view of the camera she had broadcasting herself to her opponent. And not performatively, either. She feels her heartbeat accelerate and her fur ripple with such obvious desire she almost chokes on it. That's another fact about herself she'd have to learn to live with, eventually.

"Assessment: index on ballistic weaponry considered ideal for current terrain conditions. High concentrations of water make diffusion of beam weaponry likely; range reductions a fact of life. Missiles, cannons, rifles subject to none of this. Addendum: observable design philosophy present in the Jormungar prior to current engagement. Tactical application likely not related."

She grins, knowing Marcina Villajero is listening directly. Knowing she is watching. Knowing that she is getting this as a response to admitting her passions, and her dazzling display of the results of her research into the culture of Hybrasil. It is a wicked sort of teasing, to test her like this. Did your books have anything to say outside of mainland culture? Did your personal research turn up nothing, or merely enough to frustrate you?

"Destructive potential of kinetic firearms places minimal strain on Crystal Fire Drive. Primary power draws from firing mechanism and targeting systems, plus movement considerations for excessive weight. Observation: design philosophy of enemy mecha compatible with emphasis on physical capabilities over power of armaments. Shadow of the blade: if worn down at range and ammunition depleted, opponent will become [i]more[/i] powerful. Preference for cqc obvious. Therefore, tactically advisable solution is to finish fight prior to expenditure. Here. I. Come~"

At the start of every fight save one, Mirror's God-Smiting Whip has entered into a crouch and shot off into the sky to rain beam weaponry down on the opponent as cover for a charge with a melee weapon. She is armed with a knight's sword now instead of her traditional trident, but her stance is unchanged. Her thrusters flare and her attack vector becomes obvious as soon as she lifts up from the water. 

Immediately, she deviates from her flight pattern. No sooner has she lifted off toward the sky than does her thrust vector shift suddenly and violently forward instead of upward. The Whip's shoulder rolls forward into a charge while both hands grip her comparatively smaller and lighter blade. Three tails fly up and cover the pointed shoulder with a triangle shield formation that covers the front of her mecha's body from the counter-offensive as she closes distance. 

The strain of the sudden shift on her body is brutal. The speed of her charge is not only faster than the strength of her shield suggests, it is borderline suicidal to begin with. She is in this moment less the pilot of a machine or a warrior than she is a comet, and one with dreams of becoming an extinction-level event at that. Hers is the smaller, lighter, and generally faster armor and she has chosen to treat it as the largest for the sake of her attack plan. The water warps underneath her as she passes, as if pooling around gravity.

The impact rattles bone, even through the finest dampening hardware and software in the galaxy. It sends both mecha threatening to topple over in the water from the outset of the fight, and it buries the arena in a shower of sparks and steam that buy the duelists a moment of privacy. The Gods-Smiting Whip slashes with its sword as it careens forward, aiming for center of mass where Mirror has the highest chance of causing generic systems damage without needing to guess where the precise best target will be. 

It is also the most likely vector along which she will be parried. And when she is, her tails seamlessly flick over from defense to offense. They envelop the sword and burn with a painfully bright blue cutting edge that slices and then dissipates like a burst of lightning. Her thrusters roar to life again having pivoted in the opposite direction, and her Whip manages to hover injuriously over the surface of the water inside the zone where ballistic retaliation is only possible (or at least safe for either of them) if Marcina Villajero reveals some of her new hidden attack vectors here and now.

"Nine Drive System, Partial Configuration. The First and Third Forms: Moonlight's Plunging Fang. Marcina Villajero. I acknowledge your desire. I return it, even. If you truly believe that knowing me is the path to defeating me, I ask you two questions: What is my name? And what is the secret of the Gods-Smiting Whip?"

[Fight: 6+3+3 = 12. Mirror takes a string, a superior position, and an opening for her tails to exploit later. Until she fights Solarel at the very least, she will never inflict a Condition in battle again]