Of golden eye

And a certain desire

The Bright Lord sets the tone…

Through trial by fire

And trial by steel

The unblooded stands alone…

The Rudis's commanding voice resonates through the coliseum stands, demanding attention from the restless spectators. "Your attention, lords and ladies! The next battle is upon us. Give a warm welcome to Delphius, the Challenger!"

Stepping forth from the chilling confines of his cell, Delphius emerges with a steadfast air. His intense gaze locks onto the massive gate concealing his adversary.

"And lo, what do we have here?" Rudis taunts with a hint of cunning. "Our challenger dares to wield a weapon this time? Perhaps the previous skirmish has shaken his confidence."

Delphius shoots a sharp, disdained look at the announcer that goes unnoticed amidst the Rudis’s oration.

"But make no mistake, my lords and ladies, the true test awaits him now. Behold our reigning champion: T’kt-T’kt of Temetria!"

The colossal portcullis grinds open, unveiling a cloaked figure gripping an ancient tome. A foreboding black band binds tight the mage's eyes as he strides with an emboldened grace into the eerie arena, keeping a calculated distance from his adversary. Discarding his cloak, he reveals a cascade of raven-dark hair pouring down his back, sprawling out onto the arena floor.

Delphius mutters under his breath, "Damn mages..."

Tk’t-Tk’t smirks in response, relishing Delphius's discomfort. "Not fond of the arcane arts, I presume?"

Startled that his mutterings are audible, Delphius tenses up. Noticing his foe's shift in body language, T'kt-T'kt offers a slight smirk.

"Fear not, noble paladin. Once your body lies in ashes, you'll have eternity to repent your transgressions against both magic and the realm of Eltias," T'kt-T'kt proclaims, reveling in the cheers from the crowd.

Amidst the spectators, Gethrum lets out a vociferous cheer, earning stern looks from the noblewomen seated nearby.

"Ha! Tell him, Temetria!" Gethrum crows with a wicked glint in his eyes, oblivious to the discomfort he is causing.

Intruding upon Maelaezel's presence, Gethrum leans in, his tone darker than the abyss. "I fear your boy stands no chance. Tekit-tekit is one of Temetria's most formidable sorcerers. Sastrugian arrows may prove futile, but can that fancy armor withstand the merciless sorcery of–"

Before he can finish his sentence, Maelaezel interjects with an icy threat that chills the air between the two highborn. "Gethrum, should the crudity of your voice assault my ears any longer, I'll ensure that the kingdom of Eltias is left without its noble lineage."

Gethrum, shocked and silent, struggles to find a retort to combat the pale mistress. Finding none, he slinks back into his seat in palpable fear.

T'kt-T'kt continues to taunt Delphius with smug determination, taking note of the gleaming armament stowed on the warrior’s backside. "I see you have a spear with you this time. Did you anticipate that you’d be facing a foe of higher caliber? Do you fear for your life, Sir Delphius?"

Delphius dismisses T'kt-T'kt's provocations with a discarding "Tch."

"It’s funny really.” T'kt-T'kt assumes a casting stance, his left foot aligning with Delphius’s every move. “You seem to hold such distaste for us scholars, yet you’ve graciously given me the time to weave my mana for combat."

With a flick of the wrist, two enchanted flames dance in his palms. As Delphius advances, T'kt-T'kt mirrors the warrior's every step, ready to unleash his hellfire at a moment's notice.

Brimming with arrogance, T'kt-T'kt continues his verbose deluge, hoping to strike a nerve within his stalwart foe. "Either your arrogance rivals that of Lord Gethrum himself–"

The audience erupts into a wave of laughter, including Gethrum, whose guffaw quickly converts into silence as he feels Maelaezel's colorless leer upon him.

"Or you have absolutely no idea what you’re up against," he finishes, smiling, noticing the smallest shift in Delphius’s stance.

With audacious resolve, Delphius charges forth, met by T'kt-T'kt's blazing fireball aimed at his chest. The impact sends Delphius sliding backward, forcing him to dig his gauntlets into the dirt to quell his momentum. Centering himself, he re-engages the headstrong magus.

"Perhaps it's some combination of the two?" T'kt-T'kt offers a derisive grin, conjuring a flurry of fireballs that Delphius dodges deftly, closing the gap between them.

Anticipating Delphius’s movements, T'kt-T'kt leads his next shot, striking true once more. Awestruck gasps fill the coliseum as Delphius reveals an adept deflection of the fireball, followed by a decisive lunge at the pyromancer.

T'kt-T'kt responds by blasting himself backward in a feeble attempt to establish distance between the two.

"You're faster than you look, paladin," T'kt-T'kt marvels.

"So it would seem."

"Unfortunately, you'll need much more than physical prowess to subdue a mage of my caliber. Observe.”

The audience offers a series of delayed claps as the mage rises into the air, levitating many feet above Delphius’s head, well out of his striking distance.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"I suggest you start running again, paladin. This time, my magical might shall not falter until your fate is sealed." T'kt-T'kt warns.

Undaunted, Delphius stands resolute, his eyes darting towards Maelaezel whose unblemished countenance whispers a similar portent.

“Don't you dare…”

He draws a deep breath, steeling himself for the impending confrontation. In a display of conviction, he casts aside his jacket and removes his gauntlets, laying them neatly on the ground.

The crowd, stirred by the drama unfolding before them, turns their attention to the ever-watchful announcer, Rudis. His voice echoes through the stone walls as he ponders aloud, "What's this? Delphius, the challenger appears to be disrobing in front of his opponent! What could he be plotting?"

Amidst the crackling of flames that maintain T'kt-T'kt’s levitation, he begins to mock Delphius once again. "Feeling tired already? Is this your way of admitting defeat, hmm Delphius? Can't stand the heat–"

"I'm beginning to understand that, despite your Decibelian nature, you're intent on assaulting both of our senses with the sound of your own voice," Delphius interjects.

T'kt-T'kt's spine shivers at the mention of his people, revealing a hint of vulnerability. Sensing this chink in his opponent's armor, Delphius presses on. "You think that your heightened senses will protect you from what you perceive as some errant knight when in reality it is your own arrogance that blinds you from a simple truth: you are way out of your depth."

Bracing his spear, Delphius lowers his guard to speak candidly. "I'll give you this one chance to come down and face an honorable death by my hand, lest I subject this abhorrent assemblage to inhaling your ashen remains."

Infuriated by Delphius's words, T'kt-T'kt can no longer restrain his rage. He seethes with fury and invokes his most potent spell, "You pompous paladin! You know nothing of me or my people. Be cleansed in the flame of all Creation: Ifriar Exthumaira!"

A wellspring of fury and hatred boils inside of the mage, bursting forth in a stream of flame that swallows the warrior whole. A collective gasp is expelled by the enraptured onlookers, fearing the worst for the unblooded challenger.

Gethrum's doubts about Delphius’s survival are apparent as he addresses Maelaezel. "I don’t see how your boy could’ve made it out of that one, I’m afraid. Not a person alive could’ve survived an attack like that."

“Patience, sweet Gethrum. Wait and see what happens next…” Maelaezel suggests with a hint of omniscience.

T'kt-T'kt descends to the ground, his mana drained from the fiery assault. The flames dissipating, Gethrum nearly throws himself out of his chair in utter disbelief at the sight displayed before him.

Unperturbed by the intensity of the flames, Delphius stands resolute, whipping the last traces of fire from his gleaming spear with a final flourish.

"H– How?” T'kt-T'kt questions, seeking an explanation for Delphius’s seeming imperviousness. “Th– that was one of the strongest spells in my arsenal. How could you have possibly survived that!?"

Delphius offers no direct response, but instead commences a slow, deliberate advance towards T'kt-T'kt.

Searching in desperation for a way out of his grim circumstance, T'kt-T'kt bites the soft fletch of his palm. Dabbing his fingertips in the blood, he draws an intricate sigil into the ground accompanied by a forlorn chant of a primeval incantation.

"Blood of Ifrit, Prominence Wyrm. Let this world’s corruption burn…"

All too familiar with the danger of this opening stanza, Gethrum signals his understanding to the coliseum's announcer. With a confident gesture, the Rudis brings forth a shimmering white barrier, shielding the spectators from the imminent danger.

“Burn away thy fear and shame.” T'kt-T'kt continues. The black cloth on his face burns away revealing a pair of charred cavities where his eyes once sat. “Cleanse this foe with the sacred flame: Armagatria!”

T'kt-T'kt unleashes a bloodcurdling shriek as his smoldering hands loose a gargantuan mass of flame and malice twice the size of his foe. Making a quick assessment of the situation, Delphius stands firm, holding his spear out in front of him to brace for the impending apocalypse.

As the meteor makes contact, Delphius deftly balances the molten manetic concoction on the shaft of his spear. With a masterful flourish, he dances with the deadly combination, whirling the arcs of red and white flame around his body, before hurling both magic and metal back at T'kt-T'kt with a mighty thrust.

The spearhead finds its mark, sending T'kt-T'kt flying backward, impaling him to the coliseum walls several feet behind where he once stood. A ripple of white cracks shoots up his body from the wound, encompassing his hollowing visage in moments. Coughing up ash and ichor, T'kt-T'kt raises his head with a smile, ready to embrace the flames of fate hurtling towards him.

In an instant, Armagatria devours T'kt-T'kt, engulfing the arena floor in a torrent of pyroclast and cinders, veiling everything in a blanket of opaque black smoke. Ash and dust pepper the awestruck onlookers trying to grasp the resolution of the conflict, save for one pale-skinned beauty, who sits with absolute serenity, taking a sip from her wine chalice.

With the smoke dissipating, Delphius emerges from the battlefield, his hands singed but spirit untamed. He locks with Maelaezel, who watches the scene unfold from the stands with an unreadable expression belied only by a glint of admiration in her gaze.

Noticing Gethrum’s shock, Maelaezel doesn’t hesitate to prod at the commander's pride. “It would seem that your eyes are beginning to fail you in your old age, Gethrum. It would appear that my vassal is completely unharmed.”

Gethrum, fuming with anger, snaps, "Th-th-that is it! I have had it with you and your 'knight's' antics!”

“Telamon, begin the next match immediately!" he barks at the Rudis.

“But- but sire–”

“This instant, Telamon!”

“Yes, of course, your Grace…”

Rudis, reluctant but obedient, announces, "Your attention, lords and ladies! Our most gracious host, Lord Gethrum of Eltias, has requested the immediate commencement of the next match. Without further ado, please welcome our sixth and final Champion: Eltias's very own Sir Caladin Aelthun!"

Maelaezel's cool demeanor remains unfazed at Gethrum’s sudden bending of the rules. "Perhaps you should've listened to your attendant, Lord Gethrum. Even I wouldn't be so callous as to send my own child running towards their death."

Gethrum takes a seat, silently seething with pride and anger as the crowd erupts into a clamor of applause and cheers watching the palisade rise for the final time.

Wielding a mighty two-handed claymore, Caladin, donned in a black and white tabard and large black boots, meets Delphius’s steely gaze amidst the smog enveloping the battlefield. A deafening silence ensnares the crowd as an eternity plays out in the stillness before them.

With a rush of adrenaline, Caladin charges forward, his claymore aiming for Delphius's head.

The skilled warrior, quick as a vyderwing, evades the blade with a duck; the tip of the blade trimming his bangs ever so slightly.

Seizing the opening, Delphius retaliates, striking Caladin with the butt of his spear, forcing him to stagger back.

Now on the offensive, Delphius surges forward with ferocious speed, leaving cracks in the ground where he once stood.

He closes the distance in a heartbeat, but Caladin manages to deflect the lunge, knocking the spear aside just in time.

With a swift spin, Delphius realigns his stance, unleashing a flurry of strikes upon Caladin, whose agility proves uncanny as he seemingly evades every blow. The intense exchange leaves Caladin wounded, blood trickling from his chest, and several cuts adorning his face.

As the battle rages on, Hylidia, watching from the stands, gasps with worry. Her hand reaches to cover her mouth, eyes wide with both concern and awe.

"Come on, Caladin! Show him the power of your Eltian blood!" Gethrum exclaims after noticing the wounds on his body.

Maelaezel, sitting nearby, can't help but suppress a chuckle at the familial display.

Unyielding, Caladin rips off his shirt, the blood from his wounds fueling his determination. He adjusts his stance, one hand positioned behind his back, lowering his center of gravity. The white aura of Eltian lineage begins to envelop him, and in an instant, he vanishes from sight, leaving Delphius bewildered, unsure of his foe's whereabouts.

Suddenly, Caladin reappears from above, screaming with all his might, his sword descending upon Delphius with a furious blow. The impact creates a massive cloud of dust, blinding the spectators in the stands.

As the dust settles, an astonishing sight unfolds before their eyes. Delphius's hand is impaled through Caladin's chest, and the same white cracks that adorned T'kt-T'kt's form begin to spread across Caladin's body. The young warrior's sword falls to the ground with a resounding crash that signifies this battle has reached its conclusion.

Gethrum's heart sinks as his Lady seeks desperate respite in his embrace, her tearful sobs echoing through the coliseum's grandeur.

Addressing the devastated pair, Maelaezel stands with a regal air, "Six contestants, six victories. Your champion fought well, Gethrum. I'm sure we both learned a lot from this experience."

In his anguish, Gethrum struggles to find words. "I-... How-..."

"I suggest you begin arrangements for your funeral process. We will be taking our leave now."

"Wait..." the broken old man pleads.

She turns away from the disheveled couple, leaving them to their anguish.

“Put that corpse down, Delphius. We’re leaving.

With a forceful flick, Delphius flings the sullen warrior’s body off of his arm across the coliseum floor.

A faint white wisp emanates from Caladin's form, and with a glimmer of ethereal light, it makes its way into Maelaezel's sword-spear.

Like a seraph, she descends from the stands into the arena, finding her place beside Delphius and opening a portal to the marble castle. However, before they depart, she turns back to Gethrum taunting him with one final remark.

"Worry not, Gethrum. Their Eltian blood will not have been spilled in vain," she declares, as she leaves Eltais behind with a laugh and final flash of white light.