"Higher, higher," Lancelot chanted, his expression the embodiment of battle frenzy. "I soar through fire."
Qi blew from Lancelot's back, igniting and transforming into fiery wings that flapped to send him into the air.
The crossbow-wielding automatons followed Lancelot's rise, and two fired at him while the other three targeted Isabel and Robert. The latter dodged, while Lancelot stretched his arms, his wrists joined, his open palms pointed at the metal group below.
The two white arrows kept flying toward Lancelot, only to tilt forward, affected by an ethereal force. The temperature between his palms and the area they pointed at rose sharply, creating a conical heat zone that exploded into something hotter.
Calling it a heat wave wouldn't do the spell justice. An all-scorching force blew from Lancelot's palms, twisting the air and melting anything it touched.
