[center][img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/dHRmLjcyLjAwMDAwMC5WR1ZqYUdGa2IyNGdWMkZ5WkhKdmJtVS4z/strasua.regular.webp[/img][/center] [b]Reaction:[/b] Cyrus [@Randomness]. [hr][hr] Sadly, getting both Techadons was a pipe dream; due to their sheer size, and the concentrated nature of the Flamethrower, it only managed to strike the one closer to Cyrus, the one that had attempted to strike him before a well-timed Protect had secured him. Still, it didn't mean this wasn't successful. Far from it. As the top-end of the Wardrone was engulfed in intense flames, it tried to push back with the one arm it could raise in time, and indeed the Galactic Boss could see the figure slowly pushing through the inferno. However, the closer it got to the source of heat, the worse it became. While there wasn't external damage growing beyond soft burn marks, the internal effects did not go unnoticed by the machine. The metal menace lacked anything of a cooling system, and was getting cooked from the inside, its thick outer armor only serving to make this effect worse. It was all this Techadon could do, in its final moments of activity, to wrench off one of its arms, chucking it off to the wayside; one could see steam and a slight ooze of molten metals coming from the removed limb, but even still, it was reforming into a new one. Slower than the rest, but it would manage. This sacrifice would cost the original everything, as scorching heat now sweltered unfettered through its internal circuitry. Once the attack finally ended, the fairly charred metal-clad monstrosity, looking surprisingly unscathed on the outside....Clunked harshly to the ground, the first of the Techadons properly ended, the vital internal workings cooked beyond repairs. The other one, the spared progeny of the cooked scrap-heap on the ground, had barely managed to reform to about half its mass; the legs and left arm were fully intact, as were its head, but most of its chest and the entirety of its second arm were naught but dense forests of huge metal wires and coils, incomprehensible messes of machinery. Still, it rose to its newfound feet and stared toward Cyrus and his hound. They had chosen a new method of assault. Its one proper arm began to shift, and where its lower arm had been now had some sort of cannon design; four barrels, each one oversized enough to make most weary of the payload it would be delivering. It aimed, and after a brief period of whirring, as the whole lower arm began to rotate at high speeds, a hailstorm of laser blasts began to pelt the area near Cyrus. Each blast on their own were not powerful, but the Techadon had done the calculations; an attack like this was far more likely to succeed against the canine's defense tactic.