Lancelot's eyes swept the ruined field, his senses sharp, searching for the boy who dared wound his pride. Then, without warning, shafts of light began to form in the air around him. Dozens of them, spheres that pulsed like miniature suns.
His eyes widened.
The orbs detonated into a storm of beams. Pew. Pew. Pew. The blasts tore through the ground, the force shaking the earth as dust and rubble filled the air. For a moment, the battlefield disappeared beneath the violent barrage.
When the barrage ceased, silence lingered. The dust swirled, thick and suffocating.
Then came a single motion.
Lancelot's arm swept outward. Black aura erupted in a crushing wave, shredding the dust cloud and flattening everything within a hundred meters. The ground cracked and crumbled beneath the force, the air itself trembling. His blue eyes burned, veins bulging with rage.
But Leon was nowhere to be seen.
