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[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/aExv3Zs.png[/img][/center]
[h1][center]In The Woods, Church Outskirts[/center][/h1]

Loser king.

Defeated king.

A rain of arrows that could not harm him splintered before they could even reach him in the wake of his speed. A dozen soldiers were scattered like toys in his wake, not even having the chance to disperse into magical energy as Achilles passed through them.

The sound of bugs and the forest disappeared as the army of Persia swarmed. 

Strange weapons were brought upon achilles. A storm of lightning raining down upon him as various skeletons fired guns that shot echoes of the Archer of Lightning’s own shots. Spraying across the ground, only part of them actually were aimed for the heel. The distinction was clear. The truth of his heel was known, yet in madness it was not an overwhelming truth that the heel must be struck no matter what. It was a piece that shifted the flow of a river, but it could not dictate the entire flow.

There was no hero of the bow who were behind these volleys. Yet it was as much of a danger of not more. Even to Achilles the blows that rained down upon him had a small risk out of sheer volume. The emperor held the yolk of madness, and yet his army still wove together as a singular unit worthy of the title of the legendary immortals. 

A blast of lightning struck his thigh uselessly, a blow that he did not need to parry or block.

Yet every once in a while even that great hero would have his hand forced to block, to dodge, to acknowledge the blows of the anathanoi.

No matter how mad he was not the berserk hero who charged in with only himself. Darius ran, as he often did in the face of overwhelming odds. Yet it was not a matter of simply running away. Using his disengage skill he retreated, all the while more and more soldiers emerged between Achilles and Darius.

Balls and wheels of skeletons rolled out, faster than any car of the modern day, with weight and power to strike fear in any army of chariots. Of course he outsped them, but he was one comet surrounded by an army. Crowding him, surrounding him. They both struck at him and funneled him, both directing his attention towards Darius and slowing him down so that he could not simply reach the king. Egging him on, distracting him. It was inviting the recklessness of Achilles, a costly attempt to invoke in him the small errors that could be capitalized upon made by him in such a state.

A trio of worm-like monstrosities rose from the ground, hundreds clinging together, magical energy and arms both overflowing from them as they crashed into Achilles to bear the strength to attempt and force past the protection of the armor, not satisfied with just stopping his charge.
Even as Darius retreated more of his army gathered up, preparing for clash after clash with Achilles.

If there was one thing that Darius could pride himself upon without any hesitation, then it was his ability to survive and return. His battle was not that of a single climatic clash.

No.

To face him would be an entire campaign, even for the fastfooted.