At this range, the true purpose of an all-disintegrating energy beam were for naught, if but a successful distraction. At a closer range, the molecular level erosion would easily devour gems, and magical barriers alike. The failure of an attack served to fuel a knowledge tank, however flashy the display, not many could parry such a blast; Myron gauged his new opponent's skillset, and readied a countermeasure.

Curiosity arose, and Myron would be bequeathed questions he had no answers for, else he humor the foe in to false precedence. What confused even the scholar, was how his foe, although attacked with what could've been a lethal blow, hadn't attempted to fight back, or show harboring of any ill will whatsoever. There was little fun in killing neutral parties, Myron would have to convince himself over and over again that his actions were for the greater good. In the mean time, there was no harm in a little story telling.

"Yep! From a society. Probably not the same society, though!" Myron meant to amuse his opponent, at the very least. A flick of his wrist would pop off the corks of several ink vials around his waist. Two, each at his hips, would pour their black contents out upon the floor beneath him, whilst the others would form floating hoops of silver around his body, gradually growing in size, and maximizing at three, one horizontal, and two at opposite diagonals. "I suppose you could call me something of a justice assassin! Or something less cheesy sounding... Your nosing about here is a big no no! I've been sent to make sure you go away! Now uhhh... pretty please? Pleeaase go away?" It wasn't too hard to talk a bit whilst preparing spells, with the exception of cantos. Myron hoped he might not even have to shed a tear or blood-drop, if his opponent would just retract such curiosities.

Corban's analytic eyes might notice the strange formation of sludge veiling the ground under Myron's feet, the runes that tainted the earth encompassed fifteen feet in diameter, and halted at that point, whilst within grafted lettering of an archaic form. A rune engraving of this size required a little bit of time to prepare, so stalling with words might continue to help in this situation. No need to activate it just yet, but a barrier would be very important later on. Myron's floating book served to veil sight of his right hand, the wrist shifting and swaying, his wand pointed downward, his motion unmistakably that of writing, which the feather or his quill revealed. His left hand wasn't idle, with an open palm it swayed through the air as if swimming through water.