[center][h1][color=fff200]Archer - Parthenopeus[/color][/h1][/center]
[center]Buildings near the Academy[/center]

[color=f7941d]"I am still bored of you."[/color]

The words don't strike into him, or rattle him or anything like that. If anything, it's kind of funny. It's kind of funny that he would say something like that, and it's kind of funny that he thinks it has some kind of weight. Perhaps he's the king, and the man facing him the fool. That - it doesn't matter, really, does it. The line of thought is abandoned as quickly as it's had. He has much better things to be doing than listening to that kind of thing.

Like 'dodging everything in the world'. It's - in a word - utter triviality to shift and dance along the attacks of his soldiers. To step around the slash. To twirl away from the chain. Even a hundred isn't enough to pin down the boy, to force him to move in a way that ill-suits him. Attacking like this, they may as well not be there at all. They are, however, inconvenient in even one way. They make it harder to shoot the Rider with an arrow. They're in his way. Perhaps he could -- No, parish the thought. Hardly worth it, right now. He doesn't need a thing to defeat this oaf. At least, not yet.

His hands are never stopped, even during all this, arrows tearing through soldiers, piercing shields to kill more of his army. But even he knows, as fun as it is to kill these things, that it's a waste of energy. So, the endevor is abandoned nearly right away.

[color=fff200]"Ah, I see! Well, perhaps you can have enough fun as I take my own."[/color] His fun just happens to include killing Xerxes. The pleasure of murder. The thrill of a fight. Well, this is barely a fight for him, so far. The only thing on this field that interests his is the enemy Servant. Perhaps, if used differently, the soldiers would be a real problem for him, but thus far, they have not. Perhaps if it were more than 'from all angles', and was more like 'from all angles, at all times', he would be struck.

Alas.

He turns from a blow, and jumps. High. It's a good jump. Perhaps mother would be proud. No, likely not. He doesn't much mind that, though. He's high in the air, now. A target, surely, for spears and such. He'll deal with those when the time comes. Surely, they can't reach him before he's ready for them.

Draw.

He draws his bow. And then draws it further, the very picture of archery. It's somewhat slower, but to his speed and dexterity, this is fine. He takes aim, again, for the heart of that king. This arrow is not the same as the others. He locks eyes with the king, nothing but a playful smile on his lips, his eyes bright. The picture of youth and joy.

Loose.

The air [i]tears[/i] through the sky, a direct line for that king. And then, he turns, eyes checking his sides as he begins to fall, stringing arrows out towards more distant soldiers, and the ones near where he's to land.

[@Reflection]