"BOOM!!!"
The impact of the meteors against the shield was apocalyptic. The leading spearhead meteor, a mountain-sized spear of crimson and black, hit the shield first.
For a fraction of a second, it seemed it would punch through. The shield dimmed at the point of contact, the interwoven golden light compressing like a bruise. Then the meteor simply... stopped.
An arcane chant that resembled the songs of Angels emerged from the shield, and the meteor that was the size of a mountain was simply… unmade.
If this process had been slowed down, it would have been possible to see the crimson surface of the meteor flare once, then fold inward into itself, layers peeling away into threads of violet plasma that spiraled back toward the crack they had come from.
The smaller meteors followed in the same fate, each one meeting the shield and simply ceasing to be, their momentum, their heat, their very existence absorbed and returned to nothing.
