For a moment it is perfect. The possibility space condensed to a single shining thread. The rhythm of war entirely condensed to solved possibilities. Risks and checks and escalation, everything known and accounted for. There is quiet enough in this moment to for Solarel to speak.

But what she has to say is twisted and toxic. It is only in these moments of stillness that you can see how far from calm she is, how intense and boiling her micro-motions are, the isolation and confusion and inferiority and pride and jealousy. A soul cut off from connection for so long, hidden behind so many barriers, unable to believe that anyone was capable of crossing them. Even the act of being a hero is itself a blow against someone who only ever knew themselves as the villain.

But for a moment you're getting through. For a moment that trembling blade calms. For a moment the absolute intensity of the battle stills those compounding wicked voices, the pit of despair and negativity fills with gentle rainwater. For a moment she has mind enough to think, and peace enough to be free of thinking. For a moment you reach her.

And then you're not fighting Solarel any more.

The Aeteline steps into your blade, opening its chest up to you. You have the finishing strike - directly into Solarel's cockpit. Every variable is accounted for: there's no way to take advantage of the move without hurting Solarel. It learned this technique from its last two battles. The Kathresis and the Supernova had both fought this way, forcing Solarel to rescue their pilots from their machines. The Aeteline had long contemplated afterwards the tactical ramifications of biological morality: How to identify when it was a limiting factor, and how to apply it for maximum impact.

Your blade stops short. The Aeteline's doesn't. The cursed sword of the cursed armor tears through the Emberlight's torso, carving off a third of its mass. Stepping into the breach, the Aeteline fires its sniper rifle point-blank into the shattered metal. Explosive penetrator rounds tear through metal and electronics, gutting the rival machine. 

It spares your life. It does not need to take it to confirm this victory. It can save that card for a future battle.

In its remorseless violence, already stepping away from your ruined chassis, you hear it speak instead. [i]"You may not like it,"[/i] it says, [i]"but this is what peak performance looks like."[/i]