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

Not a hit. Not a [i]good[/i] hit, that is. It was enough of one. And now, to his defense. He turns in the air, and his hand sings out - the string of his bow does not cease even for a moment. An attack like this is not so bad, he reasons. After all, these are barely more than men. What are men to him? They're nothing. This is nothing. His body twists in the air - fifty isn't enough. Hundred isn't enough. A thousand - well, you might get somewhere with a thousand, to be fair. His quiver does not empty, and his hands do not still. The arrows meet arrows, and his win out every time. Of course they would. Entering a contest of archery with an Archer is only bound for failure. The sky is clear before he even touches the ground. Ah, yes, the ground. His body turns again, and again he works.

He doesn't need to kill all a hundred of them before he touches the ground. Only those near where he's landing. Watching their movements makes it easy. They're preparing to attack, so he'll just anticipate each and every of their strikes on the way down. He'll watch to see which plan to stab him as he falls. Which plan to bind his limbs when he lands. Which plan to defend their allies from his lethal arrows. All this taken in but a second as he falls back to Earth. His bow sings out again. Half a dozen arrows, with exacting aim. He'll take them through gaps in their armor, through weak points in their defenses to assure they each fall with a singular arrow. Of course, that's all but assured - after all, they aren't even as durable as he is.

... But, all that said, 'surrounded' still isn't a place he wants to be. If only because it means his arrows can't reach his true opponent as well as he'd like. It would be harder for him to kill the man. So, he steps around and through, ducking, rolling, and maneuvering around them. It's like shifting through a shifting maze of knives. It's essentially impossible, at least from his position, to get out of it without being cut and stabbed, navigating away from the worst of it, even while he drills into them with arrows from just a foot away. He bleeds, but does not slow, leaping away from the trap he found on the ground.

He's pretty sure he could kill him, if he wanted it. As far as he's concerned, the battle is going in his favor. But he doesn't notch another arrow, once he's free. Instead, he looks past the army, at the man.

[color=fff200]"Hmm. I think not, no. I've been told to leave. Tonight just isn't my night... First, that woman, and now this."[/color] Even that said, he doesn't turn his back on him. Or his army. He fights best when he can see his opponents, after all.

[color=fff200]"I'll be going now. You can chase me if you want. Just know that you'll die if you do."[/color]

It isn't a threat, and he says it with plenty of levity. But it's a warning. They can break the fight now, or he can continue to fight. He isn't maintaining soldiers, or using any Noble Phantasm. And what he does have isn't taxing. Even with the damage he's taken, he still feels like he's better off, right now.

He does not bow, or anything in supplication, before he turns his back on the man and his army, and starts moving away. Rooftop to rooftop. It isn't that he's opposed to being someone's soldier, and the vanguard of their army. It's that he just doesn't like the look of that man or his army. Something smells off is the only explanation he could give, if asked.

[@Reflection]