She did not turn to face it, but dove away instead. Going to flicker about like a poppinjay? Unless he'd go to the effort of spreading himself across all the images enough to solidify them, she could stay on the defensive. They didn't move the air, they didn't move the sand, if he dropped back and started bombarding her with projectiles again she'd need to change her plan, but for now, while he danced about her with physical strikes she could wait until he gave her something to react to, a true sense of motion to parry or dodge. She'd fought endlessly for years under the inhibitors, enough so that she was stronger under their influence than she had been on Earth. Released from them, she was more than quick enough to react while he refused to truly commit to any of his strikes. Of course, there were contingencies for either way he chose to end this part of the dance. A flame always yearns for more to consume.

And if he kept up this dance of strike and counterstrike... well, it seemed he had not yet noticed the truth of the ritual he had invaded back on the campus. When we know you, we will break you. With every image that dissolved under a counter he blinked away from, she exposed herself to a little more of his magic, a little more of his power, his energy. It was a net of sorts she had been casting that day, and while he had not been the intended target, and she not strong enough there to capitolize upon it... he had stepped into it.

He had not realized what he had stumbled into that day. A student bent on fighting a monster? His dander was put up almost immediately though he had not realized what she was doing because it had not interested him. Just the fight that he had focused on.

But now as she moved away, as he played this cautiously his third eye told him he was being mislead in a way though he had yet to see how. The feints stop and he reverts back to projectiles though he cannot fathom this nagging sensation.

You are doing something … offense disguised as defense … hm.

He studies her for a moment. She had picked up on the fact that the Shadow Images did not disturb the air. Nor did they make noise or cause footprints. Sand would pass through them revealing a fake for what it was.

New tactic. He was still playing it cautious given his first defeat with a student he was over confident with. He moved behind a pillar and went invisible. A moment later he dismissed all but one of the images, all save for one that he could see. He chanted softly enhancing the Shadow with the essence of the others as it became quasi real in a sense. It still could not kill but he did not need it too.

Now what is it that you're attempting to do ... He thinks as the image boldly strides forward, two hands gripping the hilt of his acidic blade as the point is directed at her as he cautiously steps forth.

"Attempting, Prince Charming?"Kite laughs, stepping towards this image. Yes, image. Caught the feel of this spell by now, but he doesn't need to know that. "i am as ever the most transparent of creatures. My goal is to spill blood. Yours, for preference at the moment, but i'm not picky. All that really matters is quantity."

Acid isn't instant. If it really acts like acid, she ought to be able to parry that sword of his for a fair while. So she charged, knife in hand. She only needs to parry him once to drive another knife into his armpit and get at all those juict organ meats. If it does destroy her knife instantly, well, she still wants him to show cards more often than she does, but there's always other options. And this dance would continue until he came out to face her himself.

The invisible Gersham, the real Gersham circles around Kite. Something still does not feel right so he watches. His third eye only telling him that there was something miss with the situation though he simply watches on for the moment as the sole illusion left moves in with that double handed grip on the blade he swings it at her as she uses a knife to collect against the blade enough to deflect it from it's mark.

The spell makes the acid only quasi real at this stage though it does not cause the weapon to instantly dissolve. Actually the acid seems to have no effect on the metal. Metal, stone, glass … all exempt from it's corrosion.

She discovers this as she swings back at the image that has a slower recovery time then the smaller blade though it is the other blade that comes up beneath his armpit.

It embeds itself in the flesh as he glares at her.

I hope you can do better than that. He seems annoyed though in truth she was dealing with the combined six remaining images, now five as she snuffed some of his power out with the attack even if it looked as if she had no effect.

Do you know what I will like most, Sally? Having an audience watching s your fucked senseless. I'll give you ten minutes. You should be an interesting fight.

Quasi real the image could speak though he backs up a little if she let's him. If not well he'd try to keep her at bay with a quick lunge at her chest.

She wanted to spill blood unfortunately for her Gersham was only intending for hers to soak the sands of the arena.

"Of course i can. i've been doing this dance for decades, prince charming. This might be your castle, but it's my ball!"

Lunging at someone at point blank range when they're already got an anchor point in your side can best be described as futile. Twisting away from the lunge and carrying oneself around to the lunger's backside is the simple physics of leverage. And really, who wouldn't take a broad, chiseled, muscular back like that and ram a knife into it just under the ribcage, angled upwards, that's where all the good parts to stab are. She puts her weight behind the thrust to make him stagger forward, making him movie is immaterial, but it gives her the moment needed to pull out and stab him again.

"Oh, they'll have their show. But you haven't even come close to winning yet. Are you so very sure that show won't be them watching as i carve the blood eagle on your chest?"

The Shadow Gersham chuckled at her words, his lips curling back slightly as he makes that move forward. Five becomes four then four becomes three as he is cut once more, those shadowy duplicates fade quick though it was time to take this seriously as he turns to face her, a sneer on his face as he looks her over. Invisibly the real Gersham watches. He is amused by Sally's words but does not chuckle … barely … to keep himself hidden better.

He's still weary as to what her plans are and if he can get her to tip her hand as to what it is then all the better. Right now this was like watching a movie though the double was limited. It could do an illusion of what he could do but the effects were going to be unreal. What good was a defensive spell that couldn't take effect?

I do not care if the audience watches while you do that while watching the show my dear. What's a little blood, Sally? He chuckles then steps forward though with two feints and not one. It might look as if he were throwing a punch at he with that mailed gauntlet so that she moves into the path o the sword.

The true attack though was a boot to the solar plexus. If she moved straight back he would toss a quasi real Shadow Dart at her once black fire formed up in the palm of his mailed hand. Of course his magical attacks were only quasi real but still stung, just as some of his defenses had a little bit though not much of one to be worthwhile.

Still the demon watched on studying Sally's movements and her timing with her knives.

If there was one thing that could be counted on, even under the inhibitors of the island, it was that the wild animal in human skin known as Kite was confident in her ability to take a licking and keep on kicking. The boot strikes true, and she doubles over in the impact, but with only a snarly of hate rather than a cry of pain. And in the moment of impact one arm curls tightly around his ankle and shin as she only then jumps backward, yanking on his leg, taking him off balance so that lovely little knife can go straight for his lovely little balls.

Doesn't care, huh? Obviously doesn't know what 'carving the blood eagle' means. But then again, if she actually did get to shatter his sternum, rip open his ribcage, and stake his organs to the sands, well, by that point he'd surely care, but she herself would be having a Very Good Day.

The kick comes up and the real Gersham notices that it does little to his opponent. In part it was the fact that the opponent she faced now was only quasi real. She jerks it off balance rather than remaining doubled over, something that he would expect from an opponent like Iria that is use to this sort of fighting but she showed her wits for a student seeking to capitalize on this opening that was now made.

The fake rolled from the path of the knife, loosing his sword in the process though once on his back again he sends a stream of black miasma up at her if she followed, using it as a covering action until he got upright. Hopeful he could get up into a crouch first as if she sprang forward he was all to willing to dive forward with his shoulder in the lead to spear her back and follow her to the ground. She'd probably get a good knife shot in though he still had the power of three images fueling him and could afford to loose another if he could just take advantage of the fact that her weapon hand would be busy for it's task was not to win but to soften her up for the real show.

Kite hesitates only briefly to duck past the hastily aimed stream of darkness, and keeps charging, as she has always done, and the false Gersham's lunge takes her in the chest with a strangled cry of pain, but he has made one crucial error. Both of Kite's hands are weapon hands, and she is covered in spare knives. One hand is in front of her as he strikes her, its knife sinking into his stomach as he bears her to the ground. The other comes around with another deft little blade, sinking it into his throat and wrenching sideways, trying to decapitate the image that grapples with her. She could feel the mannekin losing strength, and she did know it to be such, trying, but not yet succeeding, to trace the energy that fuelled it back to its source. But it would not be long. "Not much of you left, little puppet... does your master always hide behind toy soldiers? Or am i just special enough to be scary?"

It was a calculated gambit, not that he was making foolish errors. His hands grapple with her forearms leaving her daggers in place as he turns and bits at her neck with a mouth full of fangs though the images could not kill a fraction of the damage they committed had been real.

The image either couldn't or out right refused to answer her question her question though the dagger in it's throat may have had something to due with that.

And that was when the real Gersham appeared as the image grappled her with claws and fang, he appeared while the image was holding her, the image being quasi real made it necessary for her to struggle against it as he thrust his wavy black acidic sword with a thrust at her shoulder seeking to make the limb useless.