Felix doesn't know whether this Lord Ares really believes he's a god or whether he's just that full of himself, but it doesn't really matter what he is. All that matter is his skill with a blade. Felix arches a brow at 'myrmidon' - he has studied the myrmidon class, but it's pretty basic and he mastered it long ago.

He watches the blood disintegrate in the air; at the very least, Ares has some kind of magic, that's for sure. He's not angry at the reminder - far from it. He does frown, though, mulish and annoyed.

"Of course there's always someone better. Especially here, with people from multiple worlds. If you're as good as you say you are, that only makes me want to duel you more. I learn nothing from fighting with an unworthy opponent." He keeps the sword held out, expectant.