Really making them work for it, huh?

The pressure continued to build within Thrones. Simulated as it was, utilizing her Arts didn't give her any release, and she was beginning to feel her thoughts scatter against her skull, like pinballs against wood walls. Wasn't going to stop though. Had to maintain focus. Keep it together. Up, they just had to go up somehow.

Mule's shield gave the Sankta Caster time necessary to do a proper count. Ten droids equipped with firearms; absolutely disgusting that Retra would blaspheme the art of the controlled Originium explosion with mere machinery. No questioning the destructive power of them though; it was mercy enough that the gatling guns didn't shred what paltry furniture they had. Voices crawled into her mind. Her blood ran hot. Stop wasting time; she couldn't keep this up forever.

Translucent rings hardened over her palms.

[b]"Ten seconds, ten droids."[/b] Thrones said to the others, one eye squinted as plaster dust burst above her. [b]"The floor is lava."[/b]

Her heart accelerated as she dammed the building up of her Arts against her will, increasing the pressure so that it would [i]explode[/i].

[b]"Carry me after this, Vlad."[/b]

And like that, Thrones stood up, thrusting both palms downwards. Her blood surged out, Arts crackling outwards as the air itself darkened from the density of her power. Immediately, the ten armed droids dropped prone, their guns unable to do anything but lay upon the ground, spraying bullets low. Even the VTOL staggered, though it had only been clipped by Thrones's Arts usage. In twenty heartbeats, she'll have to stop. In twenty heartbeats, the droids would be able to move again.

Hopefully, in twenty heartbeats, her squad of almost exclusively melee-focused operators could get the job done.