It was no normal attack. It wasn't simple fire or lava; it was something even hotter. Something like plasma, or extremely heated metal in its molten liquid form, or a burning soul itself. A skill, not a spell. Using a skill was the distinctive difference between a high-intelligence monster and a simple-minded raging beast.
The hellfire — Damian could only describe it as such — broke through his giant golden shield seconds after the clash and landed squarely on his wide steel chest. Damian could see the massive beam of molten hellfire landing right in front of his air shield armor-covered window, making his skin feel the burn inside the fireproof armor.
The thick air shield was somewhat holding up, melting and cracking all over in seconds but still intact. Damian had to supply it with over 200,000 points' worth of mana every second to keep regenerating it.
