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.