Robilar was sick of this stalker. He was sick of conjured other-planar beings. He was sick (if not also a bit jealous) of the power magic-users had and wielded with such reckless abandon, and how often they wound up using it against him with reckless abandon. And, in that moment, he himself was filled with reckless abandon. With a single magic word he ended the magic of his levitating boots and dropped downwards to the newly web-shrouded street.
Only in the very last moment did it even occur to him that his flaming sword slashing through the magic web might have consequences.