Thermite plasma only singes her

This was what I…what Siegfried had been waiting for. The blast of flames that had singed my cheek was probably at a temperature approaching that of something like thermite plasma, and the body of the monster across from me was finally durable enough not to be cut to ribbons with casual ease. This was actually a fight, now, not a one-sided slaughter. My victory might still have been a forgone conclusion, but —