That was what it meant to be a Guardian. To maintain ones ground even in the most explosive of environs. When you are expected to hold a choke point on your own, you had to be a fortress: Immovable.  Perhaps that explains Corban's penchant for charging into attacks instead of evading them. He was also borderline suicidal. Whether that effects his decisions or not is for the reader to interpret. 

Corban was prepared for the explosive monsoon the moment his star-plasma missed its target. Again, it seemed Jett realized his mistake in charging a guardian head on, and would try for explosive force  to compensate for his losses. Luckily, Corban could defend himself with less than Jett put out. Explosions were incredibly wasteful, especially when trying to carpet bomb a single enemy. Imagine all the wasted energy put into the exploding droplets that wouldn't land anywhere near Corban!

"And this is the second time you've failed to commit to close combat and opted to try and explode me, instead. I think I've got a pin on your style now. That will make ablating the armor that much easier."

Two fingers traced an arc across the sky as a shell of ice deeper than a starless night appeared over him. All of the light, motion, and energy of the few explosions unfortunate enough to diffuse around him were drawn into a nigh infinite sink, like a Newton's Cradle into oblivion. The explosions also kicked up a hell of a lot of debris and dust, which Corban would make work in his favor. As the exploding rain faded(unless it's a continuous effect), his iced shell of oxygen collapsed. The carboniferous mist thickened preternaturally, particles of dust morphing and ovulating to better obscure vision. Jett's backward push would also become the nail in his coffin.

If he'd recall earlier, when he deflected a greater portion of Corban's molecular buckshot, the diamonds were not destroyed, given the force applied was only enough to reapply force instead of powderize. The way they landed formed a rudimentary spell circle several feet across, and Jett would leap right into it. With a snap the rhinestones pockmarking the earth lit up with curtains of light not unlike the tails of an aurora. With Jett in the center, he'd feel his power being dampened. [i]something[/i] was plugging his ability to build any form of external magical force. Like the magnetosphere, the powerful dispel circle acted as a magical deterrent.

His pseudo-magic plugged, therefore so too his versatility, he'd have no fancy tricks to escape his doom. Yet again in the middle of the street, this time blinded by his own destruction, he would never see the grass-hued beam come until it was too late and exploded through his sternum like a tank buster. 

"My antimagic works [i]fine[/i]."