Corban watched scrutinously as the man ate his diamond-fullerene storm, not missing the fact he'd drawn blood. How peculiar that he could even still book at his current speed! Corban thought to himself. Each of the decomposed munitions unloaded a small squall of hyper-sharp edges that would flay flesh and tear apart muscle. His wounds may have been small, but in biology depth is more important than surface area. Every nick, cut, and scratch would be more like puncture wounds, and the larger ones would leave ghastly bleeding holes like someone had bitten chunks out of him. Compared to Corban, whom was in prime condition and hermetically sealed within his verdure cocoon, he was quite sluggish.

The familiar feeling of converging energies centered upon Corban, and then those suspicions made reality by the panels and vectors of information displayed from his visor. 

-Metamagnetic disturbance detected.-
-Kinetic Dispersal Initiated-
-Phase Complete-

A burst of kinetic force radiated from Corban's shield, which was attached vertically to his back. Conservation of momentum applied here, and the two pushing forces would cancel one another out, or at least almost did. Corban himself was a fulcrum, oddly staying grounded the entire time. Calibrations and quantities of force could easily be ascertained from this distance, so Corban would deflect a majority of Jett's magical push, but allowed just enough through to kickstart a deadly experiment in physics. The free energy was cycled through haptic  contact, and funneled into the head of Ishtalle's swiftly icing scabbard. As Corban spun on his heel from a low center, he gripped her hilt with his right hand, Ishtalle appearing as she did before in the imaginative space within his visor.

<Target Acquired.>
<Kinetic Drain Initiated.>
<Bose-Einstein condensate detected.>

Just as he would reach the crux of his spin, with the butt of Ishtalle's scabbard facing Jett it would swivel at an upward angle before being fired with all of the energy that could be gathered from the heat in the area, aimed for his chest. With him in mid-charge, inertia and momentum would work against him as the wooden bullet would crash into him like a ton of bricks. It would not pierce, but stop him dead in his tracks and launch him off his feet several dozen inches and do more than knock all of the wind out of him.... Only a few feet or so away from Corban. For all intents and purposes, it's never safe to be within fourteen feet of Corban at any given time.

Even in the case he deflected the sheathe-turned-weapon, the upward angle and force would knock him into the air regardless, due to those pesky laws of physics. Good thing Corban was good at juggling. Following the shot, he rose from out of his spin, Ishtalle's eutactically smooth mirror-face convected wind and ozone in a star-plasma arc that would tear apart the earth at his feet, and strike Jett from his bottom right to his top left.

Corban held the superior ground with Jett limited in the air, and Ishtalle's chigirized edge would cut any makeshift defense into ribbons, and grind any enchantment into dust. Of course, there was always still the beam-rifle, which was aimed and primed in the likelihood he'd try to pull a fast one.