Perhaps it simply corresponds to no longer requiring subtlety.  Diana's not taking the risk of assuming that whatever she's about to stumble into, as she jimmies the lock open on this abandoned house, is stupid.  That way lies cheap deaths.

The door swings open easily; the lock has already been broken. The first floor shows the tell-tale signs of someone having moved into an abandoned building; footprints in dust, a backpack propped by the door, a pile of empty cup-noodle packages, and the locked door on the basement door cut open and the door left swinging in the breeze, just like the front door. No sign of an actual person, and the bangs are getting louder. That last one was ear-damage threatening, at this range. 

Good thing she could fit proper hearing protection in her absolute abomination of a hacked-together protective helmet!

It started off as a football helmet, and kept going from there, mostly.

Still, thinking about her gear doesn't help any.  It's not like she's MacGuyver.  She has to work with what she has, which is almost tautology, really - but that's also irrelevant.

Where's the booming coming from?

The basement. Which is not a good sign! Nothing good happens when people take the magic into basements. It means they're trying to bend the rules. 

Oh, great.  At least that means she can bend the rules right back.  Probably.  Maybe.

She'd better hurry up, regardless.

If nothing else, dragging the horrible magic stuff back the the surface usually gets it back to normal. Usually. 

There is an unfinished mundane basement, which is bad enough, and seems to have been used as an improvised workshop by whoever is down here; there are some plastic containers full of reagents and piles of paper that appear to be photocopies of prints of scans of ancient tomes. Then, beyond that, some damn fool seems to have kept digging, creating a rough tunnel that wends its way into the dark, lit by a handful of battery-powered lanterns. The banging continues apace, each blast a little louder than the last. 

A quick riffle; she's no expert in Deep theory, but...Oh, great.  Even if it wasn't shitty copies, this stuff seems generally bad.  Nothing to do but keep delving; she's recording this for later at least, she can get that data off her body cam's memory.

Deep theory is a bit of an oxymoron, and tends to drive those who study it to strange places, both physically and mentally, but at least as many of these books are about arcane magic, which, while given to heterodoxy and edge cases, is at least internally consistent. At least when it's not mixed with The Deep. The meat of it seems to be about the binding and unbinding of spells. 

The tunnel continues down into the dark for an ambiguous amount of time and distance, as tunnels are wont to do, and then, in the next chamber, she hears chanting. Each verse is punctuated by a bang, and then maniacal laughter in two voices, one tinny and hazy, as though it has been put through an extremely low bit-rate compression. 

"Good evening, fellow citizens!  What, may I ask, the fuck?"

Only way out is through.

...Well.  Not literally out.  She could leave if she wanted.  But she doesn't, with this being a thing that's happening.

"Well, you see - " 

"Soon, I will be free!" shouts the tinny voice, which appears to be coming from a sword, sheathed in a case enamelled with fine runes, in the centre of a circle that appears to be drawn in goat-blood. if the exsanguinated goat in one corner of the rough-stone chamber is anything to go by. The swords emits another explosion. 

"I really don't think so."

Time to grab a sword!

The man (a skinny college student type of no real physical skill), will attempt to prevent this, by grabbing the sword first. 

Unfortunately for him, the techniques she knows for getting out of the way of blows work just as well to get in the way of blows (or, in this case, grappling attempts)!

It doesn't take any special techniques to defeat this man in straight-up combat, as out of shape as he is, but it does enlighten him to the fact that Diana is a trained martial artist. He yields with a sign of resignation. 

"To loose all of my hard work to some thug at the last second... I can't believe it.", he mutters to himself. 

"I'm hardly 'some thug'.  Why are you trying to release a plausibly sapient explosion spell?"

"Those fools at the college had me on a three-year research project trying to find uses for a taste-based illusion spell! I was never going to earn the rights to any useful spells that way! Now, I can show them all!" 

"I told him that I'd blow them up if he let me free! But he's not a good enough person to let the binding off properly." Says the sword. It punctuates this sentence with a bone-rattling burst of concussive force, presumably in an attempt to make Diana let go of it. 

"...you know, there are ways to get personal power that aren't this bloody stupid.  Go join a damn supernatural arts dojo.  Maybe it'll knock the megalomania out of you, even."

Diana drops the sword, then catches the sword, then ties it to her belt.  "-- Nice try, buddy, but still no."

"Says you, not everyone is some talented young master." 

"Talent.  Talent is a filthy lie.  I worked for this.  You worked for this, and you worked quite hard!  Perhaps you could turn that fervor on something that does not end in uncontrolled explosions everywhere?  Something to think about, I'd say.  I'll be going now."

And she starts walking out.

The sword explodes again! This time, causing a section of the unsupported stone wall to collapse. 

"...oh, for -"

And then a monster comes out of the wall! It resembles a millipede in ways, except it has mole's claws instead of insect-feet, and they're arranged around its body in a spiral running down it's length instead of in two regular rows. And it has a grasping, gaping maw surrounded by a circle of chelicerae-like fangs. It surges towards the man on the ground, perhaps sensing easy prey, and he screams. 

"No."

And in another space-bending step, Diana stands between the mole thing and its prey, space twisting as she brushes it aside and also electrocutes it with the tasers in her gloves!

The mole-millipede will writhe and spin and curl and then leap forwards to strike again. It is dangerously hard to tell the writhing as a result of being tased from the writhing as a result of being a giant millipede-mole whose movement is wholly unalike to that of any natural thing, but it certainly isn't out of the fight. 

"Hey. Hey! You should use me!" 

"Why."

Diana can do this all day, and she has a lot more combat options for e.g. slamming the darn thing into a wall if the arcanist is fleeing like he really should be.

If not...well, she has good batteries.  Hopefully they'll hold.  Hopefully they're actually doing anything.

Or -

Hi mole-monster!  Do you like high-pressure capsaicin?  Diana hopes not!

"This is a really good sword! And I can blow stuff up!" 

The arcanist is indeed fleeing for his life. The mole-monster is indeed rather put off by the high-pressure capcasicn, which is lingering in the air just a little more than it should. It doesn't take many more punches before it decides it has had enough of this and burrows out through another wall. 

Well, Diana would trend more towards grapples and utilizing warped space-and-therefore-gravity as leverage for throws, but yes, she can punch.  Or more accurately palm strike, what with having taser gloves.

"Ahh, good ol' bear spray.  Works on 95% of gribblies!"

Now where'd that arcanist go?  He probably needs someone's help, regardless of whether it's hers.  She should make sure he ends up getting something suitable.

Grappling a thing with several dozen clawed legs arranged around it's body in a spiral is a complicated matter, but it can be managed. 

The arcanist is upstairs, desperately filling a backpack with his photocopies. 

"Hey.  No harm no foul, okay?  Take your time.  And clean up the mess.  But what I am going to recommend is that you find literally anything other than what you're doing, to, y'know, do, day-to-day, because you are clearly desperately unhappy with your job.  Take a week off or something.  You clearly need one."

"It's not my work that's the problem, it's all those war-mages and spell-hunters, lording their superiority over me because they've been given real combat spells! If I can bring in a new spell, one with real power, they'll have to respect me!"

He hurries with his packing. A lot of stuff is getting left behind. 

"...would they, though?  Like...seriously, would they actually be - socially obliged - to respect you, then."

"... Yes? I'd be a real wizard, then! A real contributor to the college! They'd have to!" 

"...The way spells work sucks, and I don't think you'll be happy even if you get what you're searching for.  You should probably just - take a breath, for a moment.  I know you have no reason to listen to me short of 'I can beat you up' but...dude.  You look like death warmed over.  Seriously, take a fucking break."  And she heads on out.

He doesn't acknowledge her leaving in any particular way. 

The sword tries to make an explosion as she leaves, but only manages "the noise of a gunshot played through your laptop speakers" loud. 

"Dammit, I'm fully bound again. Can you help? You seem like the sort of person who could break the binding!" 

"...I'm not really inclined to do that if I can't be sure that I will not in turn be exploded."

"I'm pretty good at keeping my wielder from getting blown up, that was really annoying, back when I had sorcerers, so I tried to avoid it. And then I got put in a sword! I almost never blow up the sword." 

"I see.  I'm also not generally inclined to blow most other things up."

"Oh that's good, maybe? The binding is pretty clever! I can only be unbound by someone who genuinely thinks it'll be good for the world to do that! Which is why that kid was trying to ritual, he was trying to make it so things only had to be good for him, instead." 

"Well, I kind of don't think it's actually good for the world to unbind a spell that can just explode whatever, whenever...but maybe I can go kaiju hunting sometime.  ...Feel kinda bad for that dude.  He's - really not in a healthy state of mind."

"He seemed fine to me? Was pretty good at writing the proper words." 

"People don't normally become that devoted to showing them all, without something being very wrong."

"Huh. I figured most people wanted to show someone something. You're all so social." 

"I mean, yes, but also, no.  Becoming obsessed with dominance is not a usual human state-of-mind."

"If you say so? Where are we going anyway?" 

"...Mostly, away from there, as of yet.  Haven't actually decided.  Might go home.  This is certainly very much a thing enough that I can justify calling this whatever-this-is quits tonight."

"Ah, you have fulfilled your quota of foes defeated. Very sensible." 

"Not exactly, but close enough.  It's more that you're so out-of-the-ordinary that I --- Hey!  You!"

...That sure looks like a mugging happening in that alleyway.

A nondescriptly-dressed man with a long jagged-edged knife is looming over a exhausted-looking office-worker! The latter is taking out his wallet, slowly in order to avoid provoking violence. 

"Ahem."

Menacing knife guy can find his target has suddenly become an armored figure.  With a sword.

(Not a drawn sword.)

"That really the best use of your time, buddy?"

"Ah, um. That is- Maybe not." He turns and runs. 

The office worker has a dead-eyed 'this may as well happen' look in his eyes. 

"...Hey.  You alright, there?  I know I'd be terrified if I was in your shoes."

"Ah, what, oh yeah. Terrified. Thank you?" He mostly looks exhausted. It is very late at night, after all. 

"It was no trouble, really.  Where are you headed?  Probably can't walk you there myself, because I'm still mortal enough to need sleep too, but if you're spooked out of walking tonight, I can stick around at least until your ride's here."

"It's only another two blocks, I'll be fine. I think. You don't have to walk me there." He honestly does not seem like a fan of the idea at all.

"Alright.  Be safe."

And Diana continues on her walk home.

Her apartment building is as it always is, lights shining from windows in the gloom of the city, the multicoloured glass idol of the apartment-god sitting in pride of place in the lobby, surrounded by wilting flowers and half-empty packages of junk-food. 

She gives a bow to the apartment-god, as she always does.  Thank you for keeping the building safe, friend, and adding your splash of color to this dreary city.

She also puts some loose change down in the god upkeep and community event funding lockbox, which - well, she'll just end up collecting it later, as CEO and locus-point of the "buy the building out as a church" fund, but it's the principle of the thing.  And it serves as prayer.

Really, it's the everyday rituals, graven into your very instincts, that she thinks are the most important of them all.

It's well-established practical theology that money given as a donation does double-duty as a source of essence for the god and also as funding for the god's operations.

The idol won't speak back, but it will glitter pleasingly. This apartment hasn't suffered a single burglary since the buyout, which is impressive given the general state of the city. 

Diana gives the god's representative a smile, and heads up to her room.

(The installation of prayer-token washing machines, instead of coin-operated ones, in the laundry, is paying dividends, in her opinion.)

The interior walls are colorful, they're painted as brightly as the stained glass of the apartment's idol, in a reflection or a refraction of the glass itself that the whole community painted, even if some did only a symbolic brushstroke or three; individual apartments' doors are sometimes painted themselves.  Diana's is a starscape.

(The poor state of the front lobby is partly camouflage, though unfortunately only partly, yet.  She's working on it, though.)