[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/gR6oFps.png[/img] [h2][b]"Hercules"[/b][/h2] [i]Banquet of Kings, Academy[/i] 
Directly Addressing: [@Phonic]
Indirectly Addressing: [@ReallyDumb][@SSW][@Froppy][@wug][@Yankee][@BB][@Crusader Lord][@Phlogistinator][@Aoko Aozaki][/center]
"Well met. Let us see who can endure for longer, Monster-"

In the same moment that those blades were loosed, [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MfJruaNzMaE]Commodus fired his bow.[/url]

There was no doubt, these hundreds of blades were not trivial tools of war. Each and every single one of them would be enough to smash one's spiritual foundation into pieces. It was a swarm of steel that would have eradicated any ordinary Heroic Spirit. 

And yet, the barrage of arrows that he fired were downing those blades by matching them shot by shot. Each arrow shot down multiple swords, but surpassing their force was the speed of the barrage- Commodus was nocking multiple arrows at once, and drawing his bow too fast for the eye to follow. And that was not all. His arrows changed trajectory in midair as if each shaft had a will of its own, precisely shooting down those blades.

Even with this, there were those he could not completely evade. Some simply fell or shattered off of his skin, but not all of them. And so, steel stole his flesh. He felt a pressure try to pull on him as those swords pierced him, only to grasp at air.

A sword plunged into his midsection, but still he fired. 

A sword tore through his leg, but still he fired. 

A sword buried itself into his shoulder, but still he fired. 

A sword pierced his heart-

[u]-And, Commodus stopped.[/u]

Yes, there was no doubt. Even if he had the capability to endure and battle with grievous wounds, having one's heart pierced was a decisively fatal blow. The steel rent that node of his spiritual core apart, blood burst out of his form, and the onslaught of swords continued forwards to mow his corpse down.

Space bent.

[b]"---"[/b]

Dead eyes flared to life. His body writhed. Chunks of flesh, slashed-open muscles, ruined heart, all of them were mended in a mere moment, as though they had never existed. The fallen man was raised again, swords that had impaled him breaking off and dissipating away without a moment's warning.

Scarcely missing a beat, his arrows shot out once again, with the same strength that they had held moments ago.

...no, were they stronger now?

[b]"Not enough."[/b]

The precision, the rate of fire, each aspect of his archery was improving as the fight drew on. He was learning the patterns, learning how to account for the speed of those blades' travel, waiting for an opening. The instincts of Hercules guided him- he would not let himself fall to a tactless storm such as this.

An opening would not come, of course. A master of war such as his enemy would show no weakness. There were moments when there were fewer swords approaching, but there was no opening, no room to breathe when he would not be disemboweled before he could take that breath.

In spite of that, he saw something, his expression tightening. 

The Faker drew his bow back, and just as it seemed it was about to snap, a blade snuck past his own offensive and met his skin. The time needed to prepare himself had been too much, he could not hope to prepare a trump card to break through with this unceasing barrage bearing down on him-

-And yet, that sword, despite having the quality to pierce his immortal body, stopped after just piercing his skin, unable to penetrate any further. Yes, because in the first place, [i]the same strategy would not work twice against this body[/i].

A smirk.

"...Nine Lives."

[center][b][Twelve Labors -> Shooting the Hundred Heads][/b][/center]
That bow was released, and something took form in the sky above the academy.

It was nine arrows shrouded in pure divinity. A culmination of skill and heroism, clad in dragons. It was not the secret art of a legacy, but a myth that the great hero had created and perfected alone.

The dragons roared, the air shattering under their scream as they streaked forward. Devouring the swords, devouring the air, devouring the space itself that laid between the two, the legendary technique ran forwards to take his opponent's life.

And yet, he did not lower his guard for a moment. Even using that great technique, his instincts cautioned him- his foe would not be felled so easily. This was not an enemy he could underestimate. 

"You wouldn't fall to something like this, would you?"

Even he knew not why he was smiling.